To Love And Be Loved

Chapter 10

I

t was a typical office; white walls, book shelves, answering machine, light curtains and a leather chair. Victor ran his hand on the black leather chair, feeling the rough friction on his palm. Sunlight streamed from the window behind him, warming his neck. It gave the light curtain a warm golden glow.

She sat in an armchair facing him. Her legs were crossed and he estimated she was about thirty five and she was quite attractive.

"I understand that you collapsed," she said. "Were unable to breathe? Panic attack?"

Victor snorted. Panic attack?

"I collapsed, I was exhausted."

"What were you doing when you collapsed?"

"I was recording in the studio."

She nodded as if that explained something. "Do you feel depressed?"

"No, I don't feel depressed," he said. "What has that got to do with any of this?"

"Well, panic attacks are a legitimate psychiatric emergency. Most of the time, they are related to depression," she said. She gazed at him from behind her glasses and Victor stared back. He wasn't going to appear fidgety. "So let me rephrase. Have you being feeling sad or down lately?"

"Sadness is the second face of a coin. Everyone feels sad. To be happy you must first be sad. Its like a freaking rollercoaster ride."

She nodded. "You have strong feelings about this?"

Victor hated her eerie calmness. It felt as if he was a rippling pond and she was waiting for him to settle.

"Look," he said. "I know all about this Freud shit and all. You just write some Prozac and I'll be off." He gave her his bright smile, the kind he gave the cameras; all shiny teeth and dimples.

But his famous smile didn't work on her. "Unfortunately, I can't give you medications yet. You have to be clinically diagnosed with a threatening mental illness."

Victor leaned back on his chair and folded his arms behind his head. He had never seen a woman immune to his charms. "I'll probably need more than Prozac if the press get wind of this."

"Mr Victor, you have physician-patient privilege."

"Right." He knew of many celebrities whose careers had gone down for the worse after a seemingly innocent trip to the shrink.

"Have you experienced any tragic incident in your past? That you want to talk about."

Victor shook his head and laughed. He wouldn't have been here if Davies hadn't forced him to come. Something about being in the right state of mind.

The therapist still had that maddening stare on her face.

Tragic incident? Victor could have sworn she Googled him before this session.

"People have this impression that therapy fixes you, all those broken and tangled threads inside you would be neatly mended and woven back together. Isn't that what a therapist does? Fix you?"

"Yes," she said. "Fix is a close word"

"I don't need fixing."

"We all need some sort of fixing once in a while. We are all sails floating in the wind. We need something or someone to hold us down."

Someone. Victor's mind flashed to Cassie. She was the only girl he had met that he didn't want to get into bed with. He liked how he felt when he was around her. Being around her made him feel high, not dope high but a different kind of high. She was just...real.