What Looks Like Crazy Read online

  It was then that I noticed Nancy, the manicurist, standing in the doorway, her mouth agape.

  “I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving for the day,” she said, “and to tell you that the lady with the fat lips really enjoyed having her nails done. I’m going to give her a pedicure on Friday.”

  Mona looked annoyed. “That’s supposed to be for new patients only, Kate.”

  “Yeah, but I’m the boss,” I said, “and if Cynthia wants a pedicure on Friday, then she gets one.”

  Nancy mumbled something and hurried out.

  “Fine,” Mona said, getting testy. “We’ll give everybody a free manicure. We’ll have free manicures on Open House Day, how’s that? We’ll even offer them during the mental health fair.”

  I just looked at her. Some months back, Mona had come up with the idea to hold a mental health fair, despite my many attempts to discourage her. Just thinking what she might do filled me with a sense of dread. “I don’t want a mental health fair.”

  “It’ll be good for you. It’ll take your mind off you-know-who.”

  Mona had chosen to have the fair on the same Friday that my divorce was to become final. “Where are you going to hold a fair, Mona? In the parking lot?”

  “Yes, and I’ve already made it okay with many of the building tenants and asked them to pass the word.”

  “It’s going to be very inconvenient for a lot of people.”

  “They’ll get over it once they see all the free food and drinks, not to mention a live band. And just think, by the time it’s over, everybody will know who you are.”

  That’s what I was afraid of.

  “Like I said before, Kate, you’re going to have to trust me. I’ve got your career all mapped out. One day you’ll thank me.”

  I wondered what it would be like to have a normal family and a normal best friend. I heard the door to the reception room open, and a moment later a gorgeous hunk of a man stood in my doorway. He was young, with longish blond hair, and looked as though he belonged on the cover of GQ. I hoped he was a new patient who would take years to heal.

  “Liam, what a surprise!” Mona said, giving him a huge smile.

  I tried to hide my disappointment.

  “I came by to invite you to dinner,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s so sweet.” Mona introduced us.

  He smiled, hurried to my desk, and reached across to shake my hand. “You’re really young to be a psychologist,” he said.

  He flashed me the dimples Mona had mentioned so many times. Now I understood why she couldn’t bear the thought of getting naked in front of him. “I’m the same age as Mona,” I said for lack of anything more interesting to say.

  “You’re only twenty-eight, and you already have your own practice” he said. “That’s impressive.”

  I looked at Mona, who cut her eyes at me. “Well, you kids enjoy your evening,” I said. They started out the door. “And, Mona?” She paused and stuck her head through the doorway. “Don’t stay out past your curfew.”

  With my list of wholesome foods in hand, I drove to the grocery store and loaded my cart with fresh fruits and vegetables: cauliflower, broccoli, baby carrots, nice purplish asparagus spears that were ridiculously overpriced, and plump ripe tomatoes. I added bananas, a container of giant strawberries, Red Delicious apples, and a plastic bag filled with seedless grapes.

  I found a box of cereal that promised to lower my cholesterol, prevent heart disease and cancer, and provide me with enough nutrients that I would never again have to worry about taking my multivitamin tablet before I left for the office.

  At the meat counter, I turned my nose up at the steaks and tossed in a pack of boneless, skinless chicken breasts.

  I bought skim milk, whole wheat bread, and olive oil that wore a seal of approval from the American Heart Association. I figured that at this rate, I was going to live until age 110.

  I headed toward the front of the store to check out and skidded to a dead halt when I saw the “buy one, get one free” offer for Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. I gave myself a mental smack on the forehead. What was I thinking!

  It hadn’t occurred to me that the healthy new diet and lifestyle I’d planned might be a little extreme. Extremes don’t work, especially when it comes to diet and exercise. You can have the best intentions, but if you’re not at all flexible, you can sabotage your best efforts and set yourself up for one huge failure. Which leads only to low self-esteem, of course, and maybe even an eating disorder, I reminded myself.

  There are times when it helps to be an expert in human behavior. I promptly turned my cart around and headed for the freezer section.

  I arrived home to find the word “Jezebel” painted on my front door, which meant that either Bitsy Stout or her crazy friend with the lisp had paid a visit. And that really annoyed me, because I knew I had to take some kind of action, but I didn’t know what kind of action. And that annoyed me further because I was hungry, and I had two pints of Ben & Jerry’s chocolate fudge in my grocery bag, calling out to me.

  Fortunately I was hit with such a brilliant thought that I surprised even myself. I unlocked my door and carried in my groceries, then went to the upstairs guest room, where I still had boxes to unpack. It took ten minutes of devoted searching before I found my camera. Luckily there was still film left.

  I hurried downstairs and out the front door. I knew Bitsy was watching, which was why I made a production of taking pictures, treating it like a crime scene. Bitsy was probably gnawing her bottom lip and wondering what I was going to do next. She would probably wait until it was dark to wash the paint off. She’d want to know that I was asleep.

  With my proof caught on film, I turned toward Bitsy’s house and gave her the finger. It wasn’t my best moment, but it felt good. Sometimes you just have to do what feels really good.

  By the time I unloaded my groceries, I was too tired to cook; plus I’d forgotten to buy a vegetable steamer. I changed clothes and made myself a bowl of soup. I chose vegetable soup in keeping with my new eating plan. When the phone rang, I ignored it.

  My mother’s voice came on the answering machine. “Kate, pick up. I know you’re there.” A long pause. “Kate, I’ve been thinking about you and Jay. I just have one word of advice for you.”

  I pressed my fingers to my ears so that I didn’t have to hear it. I realized I was acting as if I were four years old, but I didn’t care. I was in crisis. It felt good to act four years old. Just as it had felt good to flip off Bitsy Stout.

  The answering machine beeped, and my mother was gone.

  I was finishing up my soup when the phone rang again.

  Jay’s voice came on. “We need to talk, Katie. Please pick up the phone.”

  I sighed. Why did everybody just assume I was spending a dull night at home? I really did need to reinvent myself.

  “Katie, we need to talk,” Jay said.

  “It’s been almost six months, you idiot,” I muttered. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Katie, I know you think I’m an idiot for not calling in almost six months,” Jay said, “but I really think it’s time we discussed a few things. You’ve got my number, so call me, okay?”

  He hung up.

  I tried not to think of how we’d spent the previous night; of how, while I was lying on my stomach in his bed, he’d run his tongue down the length of my spine and I’d shivered so hard, my teeth had rattled.

  I washed my dirty dishes. Instead of falling on the couch as I would normally have done, I decided to take a walk so it would look good on my progress sheet. I had gone only a couple of blocks before I realized a dog was following me, some kind of terrier mixed with something I didn’t recognize. I ignored it, even when it caught up with me and managed to meet my stride, despite its stubby legs.

  “Go away,” I said, but when I turned back for home, the dog followed. There was no collar, which meant the animal was probably a stray, but a well-fed stray, since its belly was plenty big enoug
h. He or she had probably been mooching off my neighbors.

  The dog followed me to my front door, but I continued to ignore it, mainly because I loved animals and could easily get sucked in by soft brown eyes. I let myself in and locked the door behind me. I grabbed a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a spoon, turned on The Movie Channel, and sat on the sofa. I was well into both the ice cream and the movie plot when I decided to check on the dog. He was curled on my stoop.

  The phone rang, and I picked up. No answer, but I could hear someone breathing. “I know who this is,” I said, “and I expect you to wash that stupid paint off my door or I’m going to take legal action.” I slammed down the phone.

  The movie ended, and I went to bed, thankful to have the day behind me. I awoke sometime later to the crash of thunder, and pouring rain. I remembered the dog and hurried downstairs. I cracked my front door open and saw the animal pressed against it, wet and shivering.

  Finally I let him in. His tail wagged as he gazed up at me like I was his new best friend. “Don’t get your hopes up,” I said, using my sternest voice. “You’re only staying for the night.” I studied him closely. “I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

  I opened a can of tuna fish and watched him devour it. I put water into a bowl and carried it to my laundry room. He followed and drank the water while I grabbed an old towel and put it on the floor. “Okay, this is where you’ll sleep,” I said, pointing. The dog immediately curled up on the towel. I could almost swear he smiled at me.

  “Good night,” I said. I paused and added, “Mike.” He looked like he should be named Mike.

  I only hoped Mike didn’t have fleas.

  Candles flickered around the bed. Hundreds of them, in an assortment of sizes and shapes, their flames repeated and made brighter by surrounding mirrors. They flickered on the sills of tall leaded-glass windows, adding a feeling of warmth and intimacy to the room, despite the great storm outside, beating against the castle.

  Castle? I had no idea what I was doing in a castle. I didn’t even know anyone who owned a castle.

  I gazed down at Jay, tanned and muscular and naked against white satin sheets. His blue eyes caressed my face as I leaned over him and nuzzled the dark hair on his chest. I splayed my fingers and watched the silken hairs curl around them, and I tongued one nipple. Jay’s breath was warm on my cheek and neck.

  I reached below, encircled him with my hand, found him hard.

  “I love you, Katie,” he said. “I’ll quit the fire department. I’ll go to work for Uncle Bump.”

  I rose slightly, guided Jay to my heat, and lowered my body. My head fell back as he filled me exquisitely. Our sighs mingled and hovered in the air, and Jay cupped my hips tightly, digging his nails deep in my flesh until I cried out. I rode him hard and the heat rose in my belly, hotter and hotter until…

  A clap of thunder woke me, and I sat bolt upright in the bed. It was dark. I felt the pillow beside me and was not surprised to find myself alone. Just another dream, one of many I’d had since leaving Jay.

  They always left me sad, but I preferred them to some of the other dreams I had. The bad ones. Those dreams consisted of tall burning buildings. Skyscrapers that loomed so high, they poked through the clouds. And like an idiot, I always found myself climbing the stairs to the top, even though I knew I was headed for disaster. I hated those dreams, but they’d been with me for more than twenty years.

  I reached to turn on the lamp beside my bed, but nothing happened. Obviously I’d lost power. I opened the drawer of my night table and pulled out a flashlight. I shone it on my battery-powered alarm clock. Five a.m.

  I got out of bed and looked out the window. Lightning flashed, followed closely by more thunder. The rain fell in sheets, and I was thankful I’d brought Mike the stray inside. I imagined him huddled and trembling from the noise of the storm.

  Still holding my flashlight, I carefully picked my way downstairs. I opened the door to the laundry room and found Mike standing there, his brown eyes pleading. “What is it, boy?”

  He grunted. I knelt on the floor, and my hand brushed something small and warm. It wiggled. I gave a shudder of horror, thinking I had a mouse in my laundry room. Even worse, I’d touched it! I had an attack of heebie-jeebies and came to my feet so fast that I made myself dizzy. Quickly, I shined the light on the floor. Holy hell, it was a puppy! Nearby, there were three more just like it.

  “You’re not a Mike,” I said. “You’re a girl! And you forgot to mention you were pregnant!”

  Despite her straining, she licked my foot. I bent over and stroked her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, because I’m clueless.”

  I hurried to the kitchen and dialed Mona. She answered sleepily. “There’s a dog in my laundry room having puppies,” I blurted, “and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Huh? When did you get a dog?”

  I gave Mona a brief summary of how I’d ended up with a stray. “I should probably put the puppies on a towel or something, but I’m scared to pick them up. Plus my power is out.”

  “Let me wake Mrs. Perez,” Mona said. “I’ll call you back.”

  I felt relieved as I hung up. Mrs. Perez was Mona’s housekeeper and the most capable woman I knew. I’d seen her get a red wine stain out of Mona’s white carpet.

  The phone rang ten minutes later. “Mrs. Perez will be there as soon as she can,” Mona said, “but it’ll take longer in this weather. She said you don’t need to do anything; the mama dog will know what to do. Oh, and try to stay out of the dog’s way so you don’t make her nervous. I’ll be over after I shower.”

  I hated that Mrs. Perez had to drive in bad weather, but I feared there would be a glitch in one of the puppy births, and I wouldn’t know how to help. “Could you please grab a can of dog food on the way over?” I asked Mona. “All I have is tuna fish.”

  I hung up and made my way to the laundry room door, but didn’t go in. I aimed the flashlight at Mike. She was busy licking the puppy she’d just expelled. “You’re doing great,” I said, thinking I should prod her on. I gave her a thumbs-up. Then, I paced the kitchen and waited.

  chapter 6

  Mrs. Perez arrived an hour later carrying a box, a heating pad, a stack of newspapers, and a couple of towels. The storm had blown over, and power had been restored. Mike had delivered yet another puppy. I’d managed to take a quick shower and put on minimal makeup, but I was still in my bathrobe.

  “Who painted your front door?” Mrs. Perez asked as she looked in on Mike, who seemed to be resting, her puppies still scattered about.

  I gave a mental sigh. Obviously Bitsy had not taken my warning seriously. “My neighbor doesn’t like me,” I said.

  Mrs. Perez immediately prepared the box, putting the heating pad beneath the towels and covering it all with newspaper. “You’ll want to keep the area warm for the puppies,” she said. I followed her inside the laundry room, where she placed the box in a corner to avoid drafts. I plugged in the heating pad as she petted Mike, then carefully placed the puppies in the box.

  Mike didn’t look concerned that Mrs. Perez was handling her newborns. She walked to her water bowl and began lapping greedily before heading to the back door. I let her out, and she was quick to do her business and come right back.

  “I don’t know if she’s finished having her litter, so we should stay out of her way,” Mrs. Perez said as Mike climbed in the box and began sniffing and nuzzling her new family as though wanting to make sure each was healthy and perfectly formed. We went back into the kitchen, and I poured Mrs. Perez a cup of coffee.

  “You’ll need to change the newspapers when they get soiled,” she said. “The mama must be fed several times a day so she’ll have plenty of milk for her babies.”

  “How do you know all of this?” I asked anxiously.

  “It’s not rocket science,” Mrs. Perez said. “Dogs have puppies all the time.”

  By the time Mona arrived with a bag containing several kinds of dog food, Mike was nursing
her brood and dozing. “I love what you’ve done with your front door,” Mona said.

  “Does the name Bitsy Stout mean anything to you?” I said dully.

  “Have you heard anything more from her henchman?” she asked.

  I told her about the late-night phone call.

  Mrs. Perez called me to the laundry room. “You’re going to have to keep an eye on the runt of the litter and make sure he nurses like the others,” she said, showing me how to guide the tiniest of the puppies to a nipple.

  “I can come home during lunch,” I said, “but other than that, I have appointments all day.”

  “I’ll stay with them this morning and look in on them from time to time over the next few days,” she offered. “You have cable TV, right?”

  I tried not to think about what I was going to do with a female dog and five puppies, as I greeted my first appointment of the day, a husband and wife who had decided to separate and were using me as a mediator. My first impulse had been to convince them to try to salvage their marriage, but their decision to divorce was a done deal.

  To their credit, they were trying very hard to keep things amicable for the sake of their two children, whom I was also seeing separately. Although everybody seemed to be handling the situation well, it was still sad to witness the dissolution of a family.

  Jay’s family had not made me feel less loved after I’d left their son. Jay’s father had worked at the same fire station and on the same shift as my dad. He had been there the night my father had not made it out of a burning building. While Jay’s parents and siblings were disappointed over the split, they seemed to understand.

  George Moss showed up at ten a.m. He did not look happy, but at least he wasn’t shoving vials in my face and threatening to blow up my office. I took that as a good sign, but I was cool to him as I invited him to sit down on my sofa.

  “I know you’re mad at me,” George said, “but I was upset last time, on account of my wife leaving me.”