All That Was Happy by M.M. Wilshire

myself!”
    The phone went dead in Beckie’s hand. The
doctor’s harsh words had extinguished her emotional inferno,
leaving her flat on her back in the ashes of her soul. There was no
strength flowing anywhere in her body.
    I cannot go on, Beckie thought.
    Yet somehow, she did, as was attested to by
the stares of the parking lot attendant, along with the various and
sundry persons in the hallways and elevators she passed on her way
to Black’s office, rational persons who stared at the loony lady in
the tattered bathrobe clutching a large straw beach bag--from the
top of which protruded the head of a tiny dog--as she shuffled past
them on her way to a place where, hopefully, she would be able to
draw from some source of natural power and replenish whatever had
been taken from her by the singularly evil actions of Bernie.
     
    Chapter
10
     
    “ I know when Bernie’s affair started,”
Beckie said. “It was over Christmas--that’s when he gave me the
roadster for an early Christmas present--he had it waiting in the
driveway for me one morning wrapped with a big red bow. It was a
guilt offering--he must have just started seeing Nolene and was
trying to salve his conscience.”
    “ People are like plants,” Dr. Black
said. “They come in a wide variety of emotional colors, sizes and
heights. Some are quite easy to dig up, because they have shallow
roots. That’s how I see you, Beckie, with your beautiful face and
figure, driving your exotic, fast car. You’re like a plant which
presents a beautiful flower, but you’re roots are shallow. Bernie’s
really not the issue here--what’s at stake is who you are and what
you’re going to become.”
    “ That’s a tad blunt,” Beckie said. “But
you may be right--I’m a neophyte as regards knowing myself. I guess
for most of my life, I’ve just wanted to be safe--even during the
‘60’s, I was never into doing drugs or trying new religions or any
of that. What I was after was security--I’ve always liked knowing
where everything is and where it would be tomorrow. That’s what
Bernie provided me for twenty-nine years. Bernie provided
security.”
    “ I’m not saying there isn’t some value
in a life spent just sitting around watching the paint dry on your
soul,” Black said. “But where did it leave you? When Bernie pulled
the rug out, you went into a free-fall. The problem is, you have
nothing to catch you--no religion, no inner reserves, no sense of
how to deal with evil, or bring meaning to that evil.”
    “ I guess it’s time to face the fact
that Cinderella, after her triumphant wedding to the prince, just
got kicked out of the castle,” Beckie said. “All my life, I thought
it was enough to simply have plenty of money and be a California
blonde with a good tan.”
    “ Is that why you want to kill
yourself?” Black said. “Because you think you’re not enough
anymore?”
    “ There’s so many reasons,” Beckie said.
“Part of it is to punish Bernie, part of it is feeling sorry for
myself, part of it is running away from the pain, part of it is
having no hope--the list seems endless. Or maybe it’s my way of
crying out for help.”
    “ No,” Black said. “That’s not why you
want to kill yourself--you want to kill yourself so you can remain
in control of Bernie’s life. You’re killing yourself --not because
you can’t face life anymore--but to boost your own ego. You know
that if you kill yourself, it will tie you to Bernie’s soul
forever, and destroy any chance he might have of living a happy
life without you. Your act of taking your own life is supremely
selfish--you are, in effect, a spoiled brat--you married Bernie
because you wanted security instead of love--for the past
twenty-nine years, you’ve never truly loved Bernie--he’s just been
someone you’ve used your beauty to imprison--like an insect--stuck
through with a pin to a cardboard while still alive. You have lived
a life of total, ruthless, manipulative selfishness,