I was bored. It doesn't sound very good, does it? No, I thought not, I wasn't too happy about it either. I had even gone to the hair salon yesterday and listened to silly womanly gossip just to be around people. It didn't help my feelings of loneliness but my red hair was now curly and shiny. I guess that was good. I had been in Oregon for six months now. I had moved up here to get away from the San Francisco Bay area and an unfortunate set of circumstances which I won't bore you with.
I had been a moderately successful Psychologist in California but had retired when I moved to Portland. My sister said it was a nice place and very much like the Bay Area, "it doesn't get too hot up here." She was right about that. What she didn't tell me is that it rains all the friggin' time up here. Oh maybe, I exaggerate, but I can't get out as much as I had in San Francisco which was driving me crazy. I had been spending a lot of time at the gym trying to get my forty-five year old body in shape, so I was intrigued when my friend Dr. Marsha Feingold asked me to take on a patient of hers.
"Karen, I want you to take over Derrick Kitrick's treatment," she said as she sipped her martini in the fashionable fern bar near her office. "Lord knows I like the money, but he is not progressing at all and I think it's because he needs so much help. I just can't give it to him. He needs to see someone three times a week or else he just backslides. "
Marsha was really just looking after me. She knew I was bored and knew that was something that drove me nuts. Marsha had been a sorority sister of mine at the San Jose State and I loved her very much. I admit that when my sister suggested I move up here, Marsha was the deciding factor. Marsha was my exact opposite. She was small and dainty, I was tall and had been described as "big boned" by the most tactful of my friends. She was blond and vivacious. I had red hair and was not too sociable. That is a real problem for someone in my profession, but I got by.
"So what is his problem, Marsha?" I asked.
"Sexual deviations," Marsha said, knowing that would peak my interest.
"What sort of deviations are we talking about?"
"That's why I asked you down here. I want you to see him in my office this afternoon. You can tell me what you think." Marsha finished her second Martini and waved the waiter over for another.
"You mentioned money?" I asked.
Marsha smiled. She knew she had me. I'm not poor by any stretch of the imagination but Marsha knew I liked money.
She smiled at me. "Yes, there is money, Karen. Oodles of money. The Kitricks have tons of money and are willing to pay almost anything to get young Derrick fixed. I've been charging him two thousand a session." She giggled.
I gasped. It was unheard of to charge so much for an hour of what many times amounted to small talk. "How in the world did they agree to that?"
Marsha smiled at the waiter, who put the fresh martini she had ordered on the table and took away her empty glass. "Thank you Robert," she said and tucked a twenty in his apron. Robert grinned at her. "You are most welcome Dr. Feingold," he said and swished away.
Marsha watched him walk away. "There is another you might want to take on Karen. Queer as a three dollar bill and hard as a hammer." Marsha smiled at me. "I see him twice a month. He has very good insurance and his family wants him 'cured of his homosexuality'. I tried to tell them that it's not a disease, but the old man says he has to see me to keep his trust fund." She giggled again. "I've been giving him Hetro-therapy. It doesn't change his love of men, but it is marvelous for my libido." Marsha laughed out loud and sipped her drink.
"Marsha, it seems you have gotten mercenary in your advancing years. I remember you as being much more interested in the patient's welfare."
Marsha laughed and said, "Oh Karen I do have a lot of patients that I care a good deal for. Some of them I do pro bono so I have to make up for it by milking the others." She sipped her drink again and said, "Besides there are so many apple knocking farmers who have more money than sense up here, I just can't help myself."
I leaned back and sipped my Jamison's and soda. "I see Marsha, so why do you want to spin off such a lucrative client as Derrick Kitrick?"
Marsha put her glass down and looked at me seriously. "In spite of my rather frivolous manner, Karen, I am concerned for Derrick." She hiccupped and grinned at me in apology. "I can't be what he needs. You'll see when you meet him. Besides if you are only going to deal with a few patients you'll need ones that are a challenge and can pay you enough to make it worth the time."
"Well let's order lunch and sober you up a little before we go to your office," I said.
She grinned at me. "Sure Karen, you're the Doctor," she giggled.
I thought
"Physician heal thyself,"
but kept my mouth shut.
Marsha was almost sober when we breezed into her office. Her receptionist smiled and said, "Doctor Feingold, Mr. Kitrick is here, I had him wait down the hall." A uniformed man sat in the office reading a copy of Guns and Ammo.
Marsha smiled and caressed the girl's cheek. "Thank you Glenda. We wouldn't want him to smell up the reception area would we?" The uniformed man who everyone was ignoring snickered and turned the page of his magazine.
Glenda gave her small smile and said, "No Doctor, but since he's your last patient today, may I leave now? I have some shopping I want to do."
Marsha smiled and said, "Of course Glenda, I'll see you in the morning." Marsha turned to the uniformed man. "Albert, this is Doctor Karen Peters. I'm asking her to take over Derrick's case. Will you inform Mr. Kitrick we will be out to see him in a day or so?"
Albert looked up and nodded. "He's going to Brazil in the morning. You had better see him tonight."
Marsha said, "I'll call his office and make an appointment."
Glenda made a fast exit and Marsha took me into her office. The office was much like Marsha, delicate furnishings and tastefully decorated in a feminine manner. Marsha went to her desk and took out a blue jar, dipped her finger in it, and applied some of the contents under her nose. She turned and said, "Here Karen, you'll need this."
I looked at the jar. It was Vicks Vapo Rub, "What's this for?"
She sniffed and said, "Derrick is less than pleasant. The Vicks masks his odor." She looked at me, "Now Karen I want you to be very firm with Derrick from the outset. He needs a firm hand and he will try to intimidate you, so put on you dominatrix face and just listen to me talk to him for a minute. Okay?"
I wondered just how strange Derrick was going to be, but put a little of the pungent rub under my nose and followed Marsha down the hall.
Marsha opened the door to a small office and went in. I followed her in and saw a young man about 22-25 sitting in a chair. The office was small and other than two chairs was completely empty. Marsha went directly to the window and opened it. She turned and said, "Derrick you haven't washed this week have you?"
I only got a small whiff of him but it made my stomach roll, despite the Vicks under my nose. He was vile looking. His hair looked like he had cut it himself with nail scissors. He was wearing a pair of slacks that looked like they had once been very nice but now were dark with stains around the crotch, a ragged tee shirt also stained under his chin and looked like he had wiped his hands on it after wiping his ass after defecation.
Derrick grinned at Marsh and then looked quizzically at me. "And who have we here, Marsha?"
Marsha frowned at him and said, "Please sit down Derrick. I brought Dr. Peters to meet with you to see if she would take your case."
