Minutia (A 3-Day Novel)

Lawrence and Bonnie, Part 8

The city acted more swiftly this time around, and when the property was not dealt with, a summons was issued and Lawrence was forced to hire a lawyer.

The lawyer, Mr. King, advised them in their initial consultation that they should do the clean up right away, or make serious inroads with it to avoid jail time. It was not likely to be more than a week or two, but in that time the city could come and do what they wanted to the property and send him a bill for their services. Worse, and this thought made Bonnie whimper, they could come inside the home, assess the risks there, and choose to remove them from the home for their own safety.

He laid it all out for them in an orderly fashion, and though it sounded dire, Mr. King did not overdramatize the situation. These were the facts.

"Can you afford a junk removal company?"

Lawrence did not know. He did not know how such companies worked. Mr. King explained.

No, Lawrence did not think he could afford it. The couple had no credit cards or significant savings. They owned the house outright, but it wasn't worth much in its current state and a loan application would lead to inspections and further trouble.

The lawyer looked at them. "Okay, I think we should go to court and request more time. Say, six months. I'll plead financial hardship. I think it'll go better, though, if you both agree to counselling."

Bonnie and Lawrence stared at him.

"There are people who can help you with this. And if we can show that you have a problem with clutter and are seeking help for this problem, we can probably get the judge to go easy on you. And there are some excellent therapists who work on a sliding fee scale and would be quite affordable."

#

Bonnie shook all the way home, holding in her hands a piece of paper with the name and phone number of a good therapist who specialized in helping people like her and Lawrence. That was how Mr. King had put it. Collectors, like her and her husband, who just needed some assistance organizing their things.

The therapist was Dr. Linda Norton. She listened to Bonnie on the phone and made sympathetic noises and suggested a first meeting right away in their home. Bonnie covered up the mouthpiece and asked Lawrence if that was okay. He shrugged. Bonnie went back to the conversation and said yes, that was fine.

When Dr. Linda, as she liked to be called, arrived a few days later, she was dressed in a crisp grey suit and practical black running shoes. Lawrence had taken the day off work and stood with Bonnie in the drive as she pulled up and got out of her expensive sedan and looked around. She nodded at what she saw, like it was exactly what she had expected, and approached the couple with her hand out.

The three of them walked around the yard and discussed what the city had asked of them. Dr. Linda nodded thoughtfully when Lawrence explained his plan for doing the work.

"So why do you think you haven't done these things yet?" she asked.

He was taken aback. "These things take time," he said, and he tried to explain again. It had been exhausting to do this the first time; repeating it drained him.

"These are things you are planning to do," she replied after he'd finished. "And it sounds like you've been planning them for some time."

"Well, the winter came, and I had to stop for a while," he mumbled.

She nodded again and looked to Bonnie. "Will you take me on a tour of your home now?"

"Oh," squeaked Bonnie. "Can we do that later? Maybe next time?"

Meeting two brand new people inside of a week had been stressful enough; letting one inside her home was hard to contemplate.

"I'd like to go back to the office this afternoon and be able to draw up a plan of action for the two of you and come back next time to discuss it and implement it. I can't do that if I haven't seen the whole place."

Bonnie thought she might cry.

Dr. Linda was quick to reassure. "Now, there's nothing in there I haven't seen before," she promised. "And I am eager to see your collections," she added.

Before going inside, the therapist pulled plastic pull-over shoe covers from her pocket and slipped them over the runners. She smiled apologetically as she did so. "Just to be safe."

It was excruciating just opening the door. Bonnie realized that it had been decades since the last person besides the couple had entered the home. She could not even remember who it had been. A repairman? A colleague of Lawrence's? Who else could it have been?

Lawrence ducked down into the basement and left his wife to do the job of taking Dr. Linda through the house. It was not a long tour. There were so few places to go and stand. And the kitchen was crawling with cockroaches that Bonnie had never noticed until she stood there in the middle of the mess with another person.

They did spend some minutes in the rooms that held Bonnie's collections. The therapist asked about various things, why Bonnie was saving them and how she would feel if she threw something away.

"Throw it away?"

"Imagine you are taking this," she pointed at a figurine sitting on a shelf at about eye level, "and putting it in the garbage. Or donating it to someone. How would that make you feel?"

Bonnie blinked. "I can't throw this away. Lawrence got this for me at a garage sale the first year we were married." She picked it up. "It has a nice, soft felt piece on the bottom so that it won't scratch your furniture when you set it down."

She pressed the felt bottom of the figurine to her lips, just for a moment, and stopped when she saw the look on the therapists face.

"Okay. Let's go downstairs," suggested Dr. Norton.