“And myself,” God replied.
“You didn’t create us out of love,” Gigi said, feeling her cheeks burn, her hand tightening into a fist around the flower stems.
“You’re squishing them,” God said, pointing to the lilies.
Gigi eased her grip. She wanted to get them home in one piece.
“Why are we here then?”
God studied her fingernails. She looked up at Gigi. “I was lonely and frankly quite bored.”
Gigi’s jaw dropped. “You made us because you were bored! That’s just fucking great. I can’t believe this. All this shit that has come down in your name, and there’s no grand design. How can you walk past a church and not feel like a farce?”
“I do my best to avoid them. You see, much has happened out of something that was initially good. I call it the Law of Unintended Consequences. There seems to be a current that runs through the universe that allows for various consequences. A right action occurs from a wrong choice, a good thing goes bad, or a bad thing creates good.”
“But I thought you were responsible for that,” Gigi said, calming down as this bit of knowledge permeated her brain. The idea was big and she was not certain she liked knowing it.
“I can’t get involved anymore. Things don’t turn out right most of the time. So I’m forced to watch the travesty and sit on my hands. It’s not an easy thing to do,” God replied, lowering her head and looking suddenly sad.
Gigi felt for her. “You’re involved now.”
“But on a very limited scale, and this time I think I may have worked out the kinks.”
“You think if you downsize, your plan will go off better?” Gigi asked.
“I’m hoping so.”
“It had better. I don’t want to be part of another one of your botched attempts to save the human race. If I were you I’d let us alone.”
“Call me an optimist.”
“I think you’re more like an overindulgent parent.”
“You may be right.”
Later that afternoon at the office, Carmen, Helen’s receptionist, came to tell her that her new patient had arrived. Helen took out her pad and prepared herself to meet a new client. For as nervous as the clients were meeting the therapist for the first time so was the therapist, for it meant starting at the beginning. Beginnings were always difficult.
Carmen showed Ms. Goldie Jahweh into the doctor’s office. A thirty-something woman dressed in blue jeans and a Tommy Hilfinger polo shirt greeted her. Helen stood and shook her hand, then the new client took a seat on the brown leather couch.
“So what seems to be the problem?” Helen inquired, her pen poised to take notes.
“I want to know why you don’t think I exist.” She crossed her legs and peered intently at her.
Helen frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Perhaps, I should properly introduce myself. I’m God.”
Helen blinked rapidly and said, “Excuse me?”
“I’m God. And according to Gigi you think I’m a figment of her imagination. I find that objectionable.”
“You don’t look like God,” Helen ventured. She could feel her heart beginning to pound and wondered if she had a delusional schizophrenic on her hands or the real thing. There was no such thing as the real thing. She reminded herself of this fact daily.
“What should God look like? In your own scripture you were made in my image. I would think that as diverse as the human race is, I could be just as diverse.”
Helen sat silent. The woman had a point. Still, God did not walk into someone’s office and demand to be recognized. Helen waited, curious how the session would unfold.
Finally God said, “All right, I see there might be a need for some showmanship here. Let me see.” As Helen watched she morphed into an old man who looked something akin to Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments. He wore a long gray beard and flowing red robe. He zapped the jar full of pens into a bunch of swirling snakes. Helen jumped back as they slithered across her desk. This was scary and she couldn’t find a logical explanation for it. The next thing she knew an elderly Orthodox Jew with a black hat and long curls sat before her, patiently waiting for her response. The pens had resumed their original form.
“I think I prefer your original incarnation.” She reached over and gingerly fingered her pen jar to assure herself that they had become inanimate objects again.
God granted her request and assumed her original form. “Now, do you think I’m a figment of Gigi’s imagination?”
“No, now I’m wondering if you’re a figment of my imagination.”
“Don’t make me do more stuff. It’s so tedious.” God pouted.
“Please don’t. I meant no disrespect, but you know delusions are part of the parcel when it comes to patients.”
“Gigi’s not crazy. She’s confused and morally bereft. She is high-spirited, and that will come in handy for the task at hand.”
“Which is?”
“For me to know and you two to find out,” God said with a twinkle in her eye.
“So what can I help you with?” Helen asked, hoping this was something she could handle. Her mind was still boggled at having God in her office seeking counsel.
“I’m concerned with your lack of faith, or more specifically, everyone’s lack of faith. I think I might be having an identity crisis.”
“Perhaps we’re in need of guidance,” Helen suggested.
“I’m not falling for that one again.”
“What do you mean?”
“I gave guidance once and it turned into something horrific. I need something subtle this time, something more covert,” God said, picking up the small statue of Buddha that was sitting on the desk. She rubbed its belly. “I kind of miss the days of icons. He looks so happy.”
Helen refrained from mentioning that God’s icon was currently a tortured being hanging on every altar worldwide. “So what were you thinking might be a more covert way to get us all back on track?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a self-help book.”
“Are you going to self-publish or just zap it into bookstores?”
God laughed. “No, I plan on using an intermediary.”
“But a covert one.”
“Exactly. I don’t think the world is ready for a Second Coming. I just want to help.”
“Anything is worth a try.”
“Can I come back next week? I think I might benefit from some counseling.”
“I hardly think I would have anything to offer,” Dr. Kohlrabi replied, thinking she couldn’t possibly live up to this task.
“Why not?”
“You’re God, all things, all-knowing and all of that.”
“You’re not the agnostic Jew you pretend to be,” God replied smugly. “You see, I need someone objective to talk to.”
“And you think I might be that person.”
“You are a licensed therapist.”
“This is true.”
“We might learn some things from each other. Besides you don’t really have a choice.”
“So what do you want to discuss?” Helen glanced at the pen jar.
“I won’t do that again. You’re really freaked out, aren’t you?” God crossed her legs and folded her hands.
“Well, it’s not every day that the Almighty walks into your office and seeks counsel.”
“This is true. I just feel like people don’t understand me anymore. I feel like I’m absent from the picture. I’m part of it all, and yet I feel so disconnected.” God frowned.
“Maybe it’s time we all got to know you again. It’s been a while, you know.”
“I know. But I get so anxious every time I show up. Stuff happens I didn’t plan on.”
“Perhaps that’s where we should start. So your current crisis is one of disconnection and anxiety about becoming involved again. Correct?” Helen made a note.
“Yes.”
“Let’s sta
rt there.”
“I can do that,” God said, uncrossing her legs and standing up.
“I’ll see you next week then.”
“Great.”
After God left Helen went out to see Carmen. “How did she pay for her visit?” she asked, curious. The last hour had been one of the strangest in her entire career. The universe had suddenly and inexplicitly turned itself upside down and she was no longer certain of anything.
“With a credit card that was issued to God. I guess it’s some sort of corporation,” she replied.
Helen laughed. “I suppose they specialize in inspirational products.”
“Funny, that’s what she said.” Carmen shrugged, and then she went back to her typing, leaving Helen to muse on her own about what all this meant.
Chapter Five
Gigi sat on the couch looking intently into the eyes of the Buddha statue while she waited for Dr. Kohlrabi, who appeared to have gone missing for a moment. This was very unlike her, but Gigi didn’t mind because it afforded her the opportunity to reexamine all the trinkets that were placed throughout the office. Most of the objects were of religious origin. Gigi had yet to figure out why an agnostic Jew was so fascinated with other religions, considering she had little apparent interest in the profundity of her own. Gigi’s mother had collected religious artifacts, including shrines, but her Catholicism was never a question.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Kolhrabi said, entering the room and looking rather flustered.
“What happened to your hand?” Gigi asked, noting the taped- up piece of Kleenex on Dr. Kohlrabi’s palm. She’d just had a manicure, Gigi saw. Too bad.
“I must have gotten a paper cut or something, and it appears we don’t have a First Aid kit in the office. I intend to remedy that situation.” She took a seat behind her desk and got her notepad out.
“That’s kind of an odd place for a paper cut.”
“Yes, well, what’s going on with you?”
Gigi sensed Dr. Kohlrabi wasn’t telling her the truth but she let it go. Not being the most forthright person herself, who was she to judge a white lie on the good doctor’s part?
She said, “I’ve been playing racquetball with Mallory.” Gigi had purposefully neglected to make mention of this before. She didn’t think Dr. Kohlrabi would approve.
Dr. Kohlrabi raised an eyebrow.
“She kicked my ass. I don’t have very good hand-eye coordination. It’s still fun, though.”
“Interesting.”
“I’ve started working out so I’ll be better competition. I don’t want her to get bored with me. Caroline thinks I’ve gone nutty. Why are people so suspicious of change?”
“Because wild mood swings and quick changes in behavior usually indicate unsound states of mind. You probably came home with a highly elated mood and now you have a new habit.”
Gigi chortled. “Like I was ever sound to begin with.”
“Doesn’t Caroline have a right to be suspicious?”
“What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you doing all this and feeling this way because of Mallory?”
“Well, I guess so.”
“Guess so?” Dr. Kohlrabi repeated.
“All right, yes. Mallory has always been the one constant in my life. I can’t tell a story or think of anything in the past that doesn’t include her. Without her, it seems like half my life is missing.”
“My concern here is that you’re back to your clandestine ways and probably dragging Mallory into it with you. This is not a good idea for either one of you.”
“So if I come clean and tell Caroline that would make it all right?”
“Mending fences, as long as it’s done without injuring others, is perfectly acceptable and perhaps even admirable.” Dr. Kohlrabi stared at her with those impenetrable brown eyes.
“I get it. Being upstanding is almost as complex as hiding things.” Gigi pulled her shorts down. She needed to start wearing longer shorts so her legs wouldn’t stick to the leather couch. Plus her feet were sweating in the rubber rain boots she was wearing. She noticed Dr. Kohlrabi look at her unusual choice of footwear but she didn’t say anything. Gigi didn’t want to talk about it anyway. “It can be. I want you to be serious about this. Mallory has come a long way and mostly without you. It’s now up to you not to do anything that will hurt her in the future. Do I have your word?”
“I swear to God.”
“Next week then?”
“Yes. Your hand is still bleeding.” Gigi stood up to leave.
“I know.”
Gigi paused, feeling suddenly contrite. “You know, I want to do this right.”
“You are improving.”
“You shouldn’t tell me that.” Gigi shook her head.
“Why not?” Dr. Kohlrabi said. She wadded up another Kleenex and held it to her palm.
“Because then I’ll start to slack off again.”
“I’m not so sure. I think you’ve gone too far now.”
“You mean being decent could become a permanent state of mind.”
“Stranger things have happened.” Dr. Kohlrabi smiled.
Gigi smiled. “I’ll see you next week.”
Gigi opened the door to find God in the waiting room. “What are you doing here?” she screeched.
“Same thing you are, although usually I have my appointments in the morning, but today I had something else to do,” God said rather matter-of-factly.
“You know each other and you didn’t tell me,” Gigi said, glancing back at Dr. Kohlrabi, who was still seated at her desk.
“Patient-doctor confidentiality,” Dr. Kohlrabi replied. She had gotten up from behind her desk and walked toward Gigi.
“You can’t keep popping up like this,” Gigi said to God.
“Don’t tell me what to do, you little pipsqueak,” God said, walking into the office and taking a seat on the couch.
“I don’t see why you need therapy,” Gigi said.
“Higher beings have needs too. Besides, I don’t know why I’m explaining things to you anyway. You’re always raining on my parade.”
“I am not.”
“First the potluck and now this,” God countered. A small thunderbolt exited God’s forefinger and suddenly the sprinkler system began flooding the reception area.
“Are we going to behave?” Gigi was soaked. “Yes.”
“Promise?” God asked.
Gigi looked at Dr. Kohlrabi, who said nothing. She wasn’t wet at all. “Yes, I promise.”
“All right then,” God said.
“I’ll be right there.” Dr. Kohlrabi escorted Gigi to the door. There was a half-inch of water in the center of the waiting room.
“Now do you understand my life?” Gigi said once God was out of earshot.
“Yes and no. Perhaps, you shouldn’t argue with the Almighty. I get it about the rubber boots now.”
“I’m not trying to be antagonistic.”
“What happened here?” Carmen said, as she came around the corner from the ladies’ room.
“The sprinkler system must have malfunctioned,” Dr. Kohlrabi said, giving Gigi a pregnant look.
“Yeah, I was just standing here and next thing I knew the thing just drenched me.”
“I’ll call maintenance,” Carmen said, picking up the phone. “Tell them we need a mop,” Dr. Kohlrabi suggested.
Later that evening, Gigi came in the house dripping with sweat. She flopped down on the weight bench, which had now become a permanent fixture in the middle of the living room. Caroline looked up from her computer as Gigi mimicked the exercises from the chart she had hanging on the wall.
“What’s with the exercise craze?”
“It’s part of the new me,” Gigi replied. She wiped her face on the towel hanging on the weight bench.
“You should really wash that.”
Gigi gave it a sniff. “You’re right. It smells disgusting.”
Caroline followed her to the kitchen where she downed a prote
in shake from a can she had cooling in the fridge. It was the only way she could drink them.
“This stuff is disgusting,” Gigi said, wincing.
“Then why are you drinking it?”
“Because Mallory won’t play racquetball with me if I don’t have some stamina.” Gigi shrugged.
“So that’s what all this is about,” Caroline said.
Gigi saw the color rise in Caroline’s face and she knew she was in trouble. “I’m sure working out has other benefits. I’ve never really tried it before,” Gigi replied, squeezing her bicep.
“How long have you been seeing Mallory?”
“For a while,” Gigi said, hedging. “I saw her at the flower shop and then we started playing racquetball on Thursdays.”
“That’s all?”
“Well, yeah.”
Suddenly Caroline hit her hard in the arm and screamed, “I don’t understand you, her, this or us!” She slammed the door before Gigi had a chance to respond.
*
“I think I understand why clandestine is better,” Gigi told Mallory the next time they played. Caroline hadn’t spoken to her for a week.
“No, upfront is better but you have to have some social skills,” Mallory said. She served the ball hard. “And unfortunately, you have the social skills of a moron.”
“I am not a moron,” Gigi said, glaring at her. The ball bounced off the corner and hit her square in the forehead. A seething pain ran behind Gigi’s eyes. She never saw it coming. “Damn!” She rubbed her forehead.
Mallory laughed and when she had composed herself enough she asked, “Are you all right?”
“Not exactly. First you insult my dignity and then my body.”
Mallory came over to inspect the perfectly round welt in the center of Gigi’s forehead. “Wow, I really nailed you. It was an accident and you should have been watching the ball.”
“Gee, that makes me feel better.”
“I’m sorry. It’s really hard to have such a killer serve and have a moron for a partner.”
“I can’t believe how much better you’re making me feel. Now, since you’re so fucking smart, what did I do wrong and why is Caroline so mad at me?”
“You told her in an off-hand way. You should have discussed it with her and perhaps asked her advice.”
Talk of the Town Too Page 6