Loneliness

Loneliness
Georgianna Klippert


He sat at his oversized Chippendale, mulling over the outline of his upcoming conference. He had little patience for the seminars, the speakers and numerous vendors. He despised the cacophony of voices that assaulted his senses whenever he found himself at the convention centers these events were inevitably held at.

His eyes left the outline and moved on to his true passion; the patient files on his desk. Here was where his attention was fixed. This is what kept his interest captive. It was his calling he thought nobly. He knew his many success cases, his kind and caring method of helping these sad, lonely people were proof that he was needed.

He looked through the files. The picture of his patients brought each one to his memory. He never forgot a session; and it wasn’t just because he videotaped them either. He nodded in agreement with himself that he remembered because each of his patients was special to him. He cherished his time with them, the help he gave them, the way he helped them work through their problems.

Yes, psychiatry was his true calling and helping people was not just his job, it was his pleasure and his first love. He raised his eyes to the picture of his wife, placed at a deliberate angle so that the patients, along with him, could see her. They had to see her, she was a part of his world, and he wanted them to know.

He had married her right out of residency. She was lovely, accomplished; a registered nurse interested in psychiatry. She was engaging, interesting, sophisticated. A classic beauty with large brown eyes, soft, chiseled features and silky brown hair; the fact that she came from an affluent influential family was just icing on the cake. She absolutely adored him and in twenty years of marriage, was never anything but understanding and supportive of his work. On the occasional night when work required him to stay late, she never complained or questioned his devotion to his vocation. She was, to put it simply the perfect wife.

His wife’s picture was as much to aid him in his work, as to remind him of her. Some patients had the misfortune of falling in love with their therapists. He was somber as he recalled that more than a few of his patients over the years had succumbed to their misguided emotions of love. His relationship with them was professional and he was always careful to point that out to them. His wife’s picture was an equalizer; a buffer between him and them.

Of course, he reminded himself with just a bit of pride, he did workout and had been told by more than a few people, he was rather good looking. Yes, he had to admit it; he was conceited. But he never let it dissuade him from helping those that needed his particular ability to work through their issues.

As he ruminated about it, he was interrupted by the buzz of the intercom on his desk. Sighing at having to leave his pleasant reveries, he depressed the button.  “Yes?”

“Sorry to disturb you Dr. Markum, but your late appointment is here.”

He smiled. “Yes, please give me a few minutes.”

As Cathy waited for the doctor to prepare himself, she considered the lady waiting to be seen. She was not at all what she was expecting. Of course, she didn’t really know what to expect. She was quite surprised when she received the call from her. A last minute appointment was not common, but not exactly unusual. However, an out-of-towner just wanting one session was. It was actually the first time they’d had such a patient. She hoped the doctor wouldn’t be too put off by it.

Looking her over as the woman sat waiting, she observed several things. She was impeccably dressed, wearing a Dolce business suit, with a skirt, blazer and matching overcoat. Her hands were gloved, and on her feet were impossibly tall Jimmy Choo Stilettos. Her oversized bag was Channel and her make-up and hair looked like she’d spent the day at Vidal Sassoon. She had no jewelry except for diamond studs in her ears. They had to be a karat each at least. She couldn’t be sure but she thought she’d seen a similar pair at Harry Winston. Her figure was shapely and her bosom was ample. She sat demurely and delicately, as though she were a duchess; everything about her screamed sophistication. Shaking her head, Cathy wondered how someone like her could be a … the phone rang interrupting her thoughts.

“Dr. Markum’s office, this is Cathy. How may I help you?

It was a patient canceling an appointment. Cathy made the appropriate changes in her appointment book and looked again at the stunning woman.
Feeling Cathy’s eyes on her, she smiled pleasantly.
As long as they’d made eye contact, Cathy took the opportunity to speak. “I … ah, I have that paperwork we discussed.”

“Yes, of course,” she answered. Her voice was pixie-like in its delicacy. “If you would be so kind as to keep it with you until I’m finished with the doctor?”

“Oh, yes that’s no problem. I will leave it on the desk here if it’s all right? As we discussed on the phone, I must be leaving.”
The woman nodded slowly, smiling again. Cathy looked at her, scrutinizing her face, her manner. She was an enigma to Cathy; almost mythological. She had never in her wildest dreams considered a person like her would ever walk through the door of the doctor’s office. Oh plenty of women had walked through that door. Most of them were affluent and well dressed, but also pathetic in their attempts to discover the root of their problems.
Cathy had a great respect for psychiatry. It had been the subject of many of her papers in school. But over the years she’d seen enough of whiny, bored socialites, looking for purpose. It was aggravating to her that they always seem to look for it in her husband’s office. Too many of his patients imagined themselves in love with him. His physique and his disarming good looks didn’t help matters.

He had placed her picture at a decided angle, so they could see he was happily married. Like that made any difference at all. She didn’t flatter herself to think that he kept it there to look at himself. Oh, he probably convinced himself he had, but she knew better.

When the intercom buzzed, she jumped back to reality, gasped, sucking in air, and knocking over her pencil holder, scrambled for the button.

“Steady,” the woman said, still smiling, but with a knowing look.

Cathy nodded, and composing herself, she answered, “Yes, Doctor?”

“Alright, I’m ready Cathy.”

“Yes of course, I’ll send her right in. Oh, one more thing Doctor. I have several errands to run this evening. So if it isn’t an inconvenience, I’d like to leave now.”

“Oh, not inconvenient at all Cathy, please feel free to leave as soon as you need to.”

Cathy looked up at the woman for a moment. She was still smiling, waiting.  “Please,” Cathy said, “Go in, the doctor is waiting.”

Cathy watched as the woman rose and walked through the office door. It was if she floated on the air. As she turned to close the door behind her, the woman looked Cathy in the eye, smiled and nodded.
After the door had closed, Cathy calmly gathered her purse, coat and car keys, and left a thick envelope on the desk. She turned off the lamp on her desk, and walked out to her car.

As he re-stacked the files on his desk, the doctor looked up to greet the woman. He stopped short for a few brief moments, taken back by her beauty and her manner. She was singularly lovely, and meticulously poised. After realizing his mouth was open, he quickly shut it and stood.
“Come in please, Ms, uh...I’m sorry Cathy didn’t tell me your name.”

“My name is Elizabeth, Dr. Markum. Why don’t we just start with that?”

“Fine.”

He was intrigued with her attitude. It seemed as though she would be a very worthwhile challenge; he could tell already.”

“Please,” he said motioning with his hand, “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the couch?”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said sitting, and crossing a shapely leg.

The action was not lost on the doctor. He donned his most cavalier smile and being careful to hold on to his professionalism, took out his pad and pen and asked, “So, Elizabeth, you’re a business woman?”

“Yes, I am.”

Taking detailed notes he went on. “And what business are you in?”

“Let’s just say I’m in collections,” she answered smiling.

He understood. She probably served influential public clients. She wouldn’t be able to give too much detail about her work. He had the same situation here in this office.

He nodded in understanding. “And you’re a visitor here in Chicago?

“Yes, that’s correct. I’m only in town for one night.”

“And what brings you to my office this evening, Elizabeth?”

“Well, it’s my work, Doctor,” she said, sounding slightly frustrated.

“Go on.”

“Well, I find I’m becoming depressed about it.” She looked pensively at him and continued. “I feel somewhat dissatisfied after a job and I’m trying to figure out why.”

As he wrote on the pad, he observed her as she uncrossed and switched her legs. He especially noticed how she lingered in the straddle position before re-crossing them.

“Are you unsatisfied with your work,” he asked, pulling his eyes back to a respectable position. “Have you received complaints from your customers?”

“Oh no, not at all,” she said. “In fact, my customers are always quite satisfied.”

“I see.” He wrote more notes and looked at her. She had such a look of vulnerability about her. He felt such a desire for her, to help her of course.

“Well, depression on the job can sometimes come from issues that aren’t really work related,” he offered.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

He put the pad down and said, “Perhaps the problem isn’t depression. Perhaps the problem is something else entirely.”

“I’m listening,” she said sedately.

“I take it that you work alone?”

“Very astute, Doctor.”

“You work long hours? You spend a good deal of time on the road?”

“Yes, that’s correct. You really are very intuitive, aren’t you?”

She seemed to understand his ability to read people well. It was flattering that a new patient was so attuned to his insight.
Of course, no need to be big headed about it. “Well, I like to help people,” he said humbly. “I suppose I’ve gotten rather skilled at it over the years.”

“Yes,” she said almost seductively, “Years of practice does make one proficient.”

He felt a stir through his body.

“So,” she asked, “If I’m not depressed, what am I?”

“Well,” he said getting up from his chair, “I would say you’re lonely.” He moved slowly towards the couch.

“Lonely” she repeated. It wasn’t so much a question, as an admission. She looked across the room, as though she were thinking carefully about the revelation.

As he sat next to her on the couch, she didn’t change her stare.
He kept the proper distance. No sense in moving her into therapy before she was ready. That was another of his talents; his ability to bring a woman to the realization that she needed help. Then they had to open themselves up to it; that was always the trickiest part, but the most crucial and ultimately the most fulfilling.

But looking at this sad, lonely woman; this gorgeous, sexy, perfect, lonely woman, he knew she was ripe for helping. She didn’t change her gaze as he observed her delicate gloved hands, resting in her lap.
He gently reached for her hand and took it in his. “I want to help you Elizabeth, if you’ll let me.”

As she looked at him, a single tear glistened in the corner of one of her large, vividly green eyes. “How can you help me?” Her voice was trembling, on the verge of breaking.

“You have to trust me,” he said in a low, firm voice.

“What does that mean, trust you?”

He inhaled deeply and said, “You must trust me with very intimate things that may be difficult and embarrassing for you. Are you willing to trust me to that extent?”

She nodded.

“Many times,” he began as delicately as he could, “the source of loneliness is sexual frustration.”

Her expression didn’t change, so he continued.  “We all want to connect, Elizabeth. We all want to be seen by others, we all want to be touched as well. Sometimes, when we go for long periods unseen and untouched, we feel an intense loneliness that can actually debilitate us. One of the most fulfilling ways to be seen and touched is through the sex act. Through the coming together of two people, tension, frustration and even loneliness can be eliminated. I can help you with your loneliness if you want it. But you must make the decision, Elizabeth, you.”

She looked thoughtfully into his eyes, searching he was certain, for what he had to offer; healing of the most intimate kind.
“Elizabeth, do you want my help?” He asked.
The tear finally left her eye, and trickled down her perfect porcelain cheek. He watched the tear caress her cheek, and he wanted to caress it too.
Finally she nodded.
“I’m glad,” he murmured. “Just relax.”

He wiped the tear from her chin where it stopped. He leaned in and kissed her full lips, very softly at first. She responded slowly, almost as if she were afraid. Then quite to his surprise, she crushed her lips to his, responding more than any other patient had during a first visit. Then quite abruptly, she pulled his hand to her breast and moaned in response. He began to lose himself in the encounter when the phone rang. Startled and brought to his senses, he let the machine get the call and decided it might be better if he poured a couple of drinks before they continued. And he’d forgotten to take her picture. He’d started the video camera before she’d come in. But there was just something about a picture, to be able to look at it, and touch it. Oh, he knew she wasn’t going to be a regular patient, but she might be coming in to town for business occasionally, and she might need more therapy. So having a file for her with her picture wouldn’t’ be uncalled for.

He got up and looked down on her. Her face was angelic, needy, and so incredibly beautiful. “Why don’t I pour us a couple of drinks? And if you don’t mind, might I take your picture for your file?”

“I would like a drink,” she said quietly. “It’s time for a drink.”

“Fine,” the doctor said lightly. “And the picture?”

She nodded as he poured to glasses of brandy. He walked over to hand her the drink. She stood up lithely, and ran her hands down his chest. At the same time she kissed him deeply and whispered in his ear, “I think your right, Doctor. I think I am lonely.”

She took the glass from his hand and softly inhaled the rich sweet aroma of the drink. Gracefully, she sat back down and looked up at him; she could see the avarice in his eyes. He began to lean down towards her. “The picture?” she reminded him.

He smiled, “Ah, yes.”

He turned to get his camera from the desk, while she fiddled for something in her purse; protection he imagined. Without turning, he smiled, glad that she was prepared. No sense in risking pregnancy. Finding the camera, he turned and stopped cold.

Elizabeth sat, demurely as ever, holding the brandy in one hand, a pistol in the other; pointed squarely at him. It was large, black, and had a cylindrical attachment on the barrel; a silencer.
He continued to stare as she slowly sipped the brandy, and then put the glass down. She rose slowly, and moved smoothly towards him.
“Elizabeth, what…?”

She put a delicate gloved finger in front of pursed lips and shushed him.

“I want to thank you, Doctor. You have actually helped me. I have to say you were right. I am lonely; I didn’t realize it, but I am. And were this not a professional situation, I might make use of your … ah … shall we say, charms?”

He looked at the gun, and couldn’t help wondering how such a small hand could so deftly maneuver the weapon pointed at him.
“Elizabeth,” he said very calmly, trying to remember his courses on the criminally insane.  “You don’t want to shoot me. I haven’t done you any harm, in fact, I’ve tried to help you. I still want to. Let me call and arrange for a safe environment for you tonight.” As he reached for the phone, he heard a muffled pop, and the phone instantly exploded into pieces.  He turned frantically, staring at Elizabeth’s face. She smiled and directed him away from the desk.

“I’m not insane, Doctor,” she said coolly. “I’m working.  I’m sorry for the deception, but it comes with the job sometimes. I am actually a great believer in psychiatry; however, I think it’s only fair that I tell you that I believe your particular method of psychiatry to be absolute bullshit.”

Despite the gun in his face, he was surprised to hear profanity come from her angelic lips.

“I’m not the only one who shares that opinion Doctor. Your lecherous activities under the guise of help are quite distasteful to your wife as well. She has decided to put an end to it and you.”

“Cathy put you up to this?" He was incredulous. Cathy adored him, he knew it. “She loves me; she wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Love?” She said emotionlessly. “You’ve never heard the saying, ‘It’s a fine line between love and hate?’”

He didn’t speak.

“Well,” she continued, “Cathy has stepped over that line. She does want you to know that she’ll find suitable therapists for your patients, so all your hard work won’t be wasted.”

“You won’t get away with this!” he warned. “The entire building is under video surveillance.”

“Not to worry,” she lightly. “Cathy has taken care of that. The cameras have been off since before I arrived.”

“I’ll pay you, double what she did.”

She smiled and said, “I really must go now, Doctor.”

She began to trim her aim, when he cried out, “Please!”

“Really, Doctor, don’t beg, it’s unprofessional.”

Again he cried, “Plea…”

His voice was cut short as the bullet pierced his heart. He slid to the floor without fanfare.

Elizabeth unscrewed the silencer from her pistol, and tucked both into her bag. She sat down, picked up the brandy snifter and slowly drained it. Looking at the dead psychiatrist on the floor, she thought for a moment at the idea that she was lonely. “Hmmm…”

She rose, put on her coat, grabbed her bag and quickly scanned the carpet. Finding the two spent shell casings, she picked them up and then went to the desk. Without much difficulty, she found the hidden video camera in one of the side cabinets. She removed the tape and placed in her bag with the gun. She walked out into the waiting room, and grabbing the thick envelope from Cathy’s desk headed for the door.

In the hall, as she waited for the elevator, she pulled out a small silver cell phone and punched in a number; she waited.

“Hello? She said sweetly. “Louis? Yes it’s Elizabeth. Listen, Louis, I’m lonely.”