All That Was Happy by M.M. Wilshire Page A

and now
Bernie’s finally called your number, and you have the nerve to make
him out to be the monster.”
    “ Dr. Black!”
    “ If you had any kind of compassion,”
Black continued, “you’d feel sorry for Bernie--do you really think
a man his age wants to take up with a younger woman, and go through
all that again? Can you imagine the guilt and remorse he feels for
abandoning you? His life is ruined. But he had to get out from your
smothering selfishness--you trapped him in his youth with your
fiery beauty, but after that, for the rest of his life, you never
gave him anything but lukewarm love--yet you demanded everything
from him. Bernie’s the victim here. You know what’s killing you?
Terminal selfishness, that’s what.”
    Beckie, her emotionally hammered pieces
scattered all over the floor of Black’s office, worked hard at
simply getting enough air in her lungs not to pass out. It was
awhile before she had anything to say, and during the silence, she
felt her mind attach itself to the white noise of the building hum,
keeping her seething emotions in check, keeping her urge to respond
violently to the Doctor’s lambasting to a minimum.
    “ My favorite flower is white
chrysanthemums,” Beckie finally said. “My mother used to keep them
fresh on her dining table every spring. She once painted an old
hotel dresser green and then stenciled it with white chrysanthemums
for my room when I was growing up. She said that the flowers were a
symbol of the warmth she felt towards those who entered her home. I
guess, somewhere along the way, I never picked up what my mother
was trying to impart. Somehow, I went in another direction--a
direction without passion.”
    “ It’s not too late,” Black
said.
    “ People used to laugh that Mom bought
old hotel furniture and then refinished it,” Beckie said. “But she
used to tell me not to be afraid to buy what I loved, no matter
what anybody else thought. When I met Bernie, he was a fat little
guy with a big square head and big thick glasses trying to grow his
hair long and be hip--it was obvious he wasn’t ever going to be
attractive. And I came along, with my scoop-neck Granny dresses and
my long blonde hair and my dynamite figure and I knew that I could
make Bernie do anything I wanted him to do--I was very cruel to him
at first. When we started dating, I used to call him up at his
parents late at night and make him stop whatever he was doing and
go fetch something for me. If it was summer, I made him get me
Rocky Road ice cream. If it was winter, he had to bring me a
thermos of hot chocolate. When he’d arrive, I’d take it from him at
the doorway and not even let him come in.”
    “ In other words, the exact opposite of
the warm friendship your mother had for people,” Black
said.
    “ My mother used to tell me that I
should never pass up something I loved,” Beckie said. “She used to
tell me that regret is a terrible thing. She said if I passed
something up, I’d never find it again. Now I realize that she was
right--I passed up love, I never loved Bernie--I liked his fat,
froggy little self--but I never had the kind of romantic love for
him that a woman should have for her man. Now that I’ve lost
him--I’m filled with regret over what might have been.”
    “ It’s always been your little party,”
Black said. “You’ve always been the center of attention in your
little world--well, now that the spotlight is off, what are you
going to do?”
    “ The first thing I’m going to do is
stop trying to kill myself,” Beckie said. “And I guess I’m through
vilifying Bernie for something that’s not his fault. But as far as
the rest goes, I can see that this is not a job for your average,
ordinary selfish, manipulating female--if you’ll agree, I’d like to
keep working on myself.”
    “ Once you seek a teacher,” Black said,
“you’ll find the Universe itself opening up to you--everything will
start to come into line.”
    “ I’m a woman