Uptown Girl

by Olivia Goldsmith

  ‘A what?’ Billy asked, indignant.

  ‘A repetition compulsion,’ Kate replied impatiently.

  ‘What’s that? Some jargon from the DSM 4?’

  Kate was surprised he knew about the DSM – the bible of mental dysfunctions that was compiled regularly for mental health professionals. Still, she didn’t show her surprise. ‘It’s not a DSM 4 construct. It’s an older Freudian theoretical position.’

  ‘I thought Freud was unpopular these days? Oedipus complex, penis envy. Isn’t that all pretty much out of date? After all, he was a guy who didn’t know what women wanted.’

  Once again, Kate was surprised by his casual familiarity with things she figured he had never heard of. ‘I think it’s still valid,’ she said. ‘Especially in your case. It roughly defines a compulsive neurotic behavior where a person repeats an altered version of traumatic events from their past. Once it starts, the compulsion requires the person to keep doing the maladaptive behavior.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Billy asked, and, as she hoped, he was definitely becoming belligerent. ‘And what maladaptive behavior would I be repeating?’

  ‘An attempt at intimacy that has to be followed by abandonment. And each time you pick an inappropriate partner to ensure the eventual split.’

  ‘And how do you know all of this about me?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I am a doctor,’ she said, ‘and I do know several of the inappropriate women you’ve played the pattern out with. I just thought Bina might be a real person, someone you could actually bond with. She isn’t one of your typical Brooklyn big haired Bitches. And she’s quite sad at the moment, with Jack away. Anyway, it didn’t work, and it doesn’t matter to me or to Bina. I’m just sorry I gave you an easy excuse not to conquer it.’

  ‘You didn’t give me anything but a headache,’ he shot back.

  ‘Well, we’re not really talking about me, are we? We’re talking about you. And you find it impossible to date a nice girl with any kind of commitment.’

  ‘That isn’t true,’ he told her.

  ‘I guess that isn’t why you have the nickname, then,’ she said.

  ‘I’d have no problem dating Bina. She’s a nice enough girl and she knows how to have a good time. Unlike some uptight, word-dropping psychologists I’ve met. And I don’t have a petition…whatever.’

  ‘Sure you don’t,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t,’ he insisted.

  ‘Great. Then prove it,’ she said. ‘Date her for a couple of months without dumping her and I will be proven totally and utterly wrong. Well, if you can manage a real relationship you might also lose the nickname. But I don’t think you can do it.’

  ‘Done,’ he declared. ‘And only because I want to. And because she’s a nice girl. Not my type, but nice. And I’ll see her as long as I want to. I don’t need a shrink to manage it, or to psychoanalyze me later.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Kate smiled, and picked up her purse and headed to the door. She put her hand on the knob, but before she turned it, she looked back at Billy.

  ‘I can give you Bina’s number,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks, but I already have it. Bina Horowitz, 378–143. 1742 Ocean Parkway.’ He looked at her with a glint of triumph in his eye. ‘I had thought of looking her up myself. She gave me her number, you know.’ And Kate, for some reason she didn’t quite understand, was annoyed.

  Well, her feelings didn’t matter in this ridiculous escapade. She’d accomplished what she’d promised to do. So she simply opened the door, exited and slammed it behind her.

  27

  Kate was almost a quarter of an hour early at LaMarca on Wednesday evening because she didn’t want to be late. The restaurant, a pleasant if undistinguished bistro in Chelsea, was not the kind of snotty place where you had to ‘wait at the bar until your party has joined you’. Kate was seated at a windowed table and had a chance to freshen her lipstick and twist her hair up into a knot. Then she waited, trying hard not to think. Nestled next to her lipstick in the makeup bag she carried in her purse were a pair of new keys on a silver Tiffany key ring. The ring was actually more like a ‘U’ than a circle, with sterling silver balls at each end that unscrewed so that keys could be added and subtracted easily. It also had a small silver dog tag on it. The number engraved on the sterling was registered at Tiffany’s and, if the keys were lost and dropped in a mailbox, Tiffany’s would return them. Kate felt that perhaps she had gone overboard, and she was afraid that she might be compensating with the gift for a diminution in her passion for Michael.

  She’d tried, over and over, to analyze why she had cooled. Certainly their sex was fulfilling and their relationship sound and based on shared interests, though she had never felt truly passionate about Michael as she once had about Steven. That, however, she had considered a good thing. After Steven, Kate had promised herself she would never allow an obsession with a man to take over her life. And until now she had been more than happy with her union with Michael. Despite Elliot’s prejudice against him, Michael was a grown-up – perhaps the first male grown-up in her life – and he respected and liked her. Michael, unlike a lot of guys, wasn’t intimidated by her work, her looks or her independence. And he was not the kind of man to run from intimacy. So why, she wondered, did she find herself resisting? Was she afraid of the next step in their relationship? She didn’t think so. But, as Anna Freud had pointed out, resistance was an unconscious thing.

  ‘Would you like something to drink while you’re waiting?’ the waiter asked, startling her.

  ‘A glass of Chardonnay, please,’ she said, and then felt a bit guilty, which in turn made her feel annoyed.

  As she was taking her first sip of the wine, Michael strode in, an unusually wide smile on his face. He was, she reminded herself, very nice-looking. Not dramatically gorgeous like that idiot in Brooklyn, but handsome in an understated way. His hair was thick, and a little silver was prematurely mixed with the brown. The steel rimmed glasses he wore went well with his hair, and Kate had sometimes wondered if he knew that. If his shoulders were slightly narrow, he made up for it with his height. Now, he bent over her, took her chin in his hand and turned her head so he could kiss her on the mouth. She smiled at him and he slipped into the banquette opposite her.

  ‘Very nice choice,’ he said, looking around. They alternated in choosing restaurants, Michael most often referring to Zagat’s on-line while Kate depended on Elliot – her own personal restaurant rating service.

  ‘You seem in a good mood,’ she said.

  ‘Better than good!’ Michael told her. ‘I’ve gotten the offer from Austin.’ He beamed. ‘It’s almost too good to be true.’

  ‘It’s official?’ Kate asked. She felt her stomach lurch.

  ‘Well, as good as. I got a call from Brill at the Sagerman Foundation and he told me, in complete confidence of course, that they had selected me and that I’d hear from Austin soon.’

  ‘Wow. So you’ll chair a department?’ Kate was impressed and delighted for Michael, but her feelings were mixed with a tightening of her chest, as if her bra had suddenly become two sizes too small. Austin, Texas was supposed to be a lovely place, with a great university and very pretty countryside. And to get the chairmanship of a department was almost unheard of for someone as young as Michael. But Kate didn’t want to think of the ramifications: if Michael chose to go would he ask her to go as well? And if he did, what would she say? She loved her job and her friends and…

  The waiter approached again. ‘Something to drink, sir?’ he asked, and Michael nodded.

  ‘A bottle of champagne, please.’ Kate was startled but merely smiled. He was very excited, but perhaps he was more pleased that he had been selected than willing to go.

  When the champagne came, Kate toasted him. ‘To the smartest, most deserving man I know,’ she said, and she thought Michael blushed. The moment seemed appropriate so she reached into her purse and took out the little blue Tiffany box. ‘I’m not sure these would be usef
ul in Austin,’ Kate said and placed the box between them on the table. ‘I would have picked something else, if I had known.’

  Then Michael did flush, either with pleasure or embarrassment – some men were awkward with gifts – and Kate felt that he would surely be disappointed. But he opened the box, held up the key chain and grinned. ‘How nice,’ he said. ‘How very nice.’

  They ordered dinner and Michael actually took a sip or two of champagne. He spent most of the time chatting about the Sagerman Foundation and the University of Texas and Kate tried not to feel left out or frightened. She was surprised to discover how unprepared she was for this eventuality. Texas! She couldn’t think of any place less attractive to her, why, she’d rather move back to Brooklyn. And was he simply giving her this news in what seemed an impersonal way or was he talking about their plans without saying so in so many words? She felt confused and ill prepared for something that a part of her had been expecting for months. But what did it mean? Kate hadn’t the slightest clue.

  After dinner they walked to her apartment. It was a balmy night and Michael, swinging his briefcase with one hand, held hers with the other. When they got to her door he reached into his pocket and took out the keys. ‘Allow me,’ he said and opened the door for her. As they walked up the steps, Kate reached in to her own bag. For some reason she wanted to open her own apartment door, and she managed to beat him to it.

  When they entered the living room, Michael threw his briefcase down on the sofa and immediately pulled off his tie. Kate thought he might be a little bit high from the bit of champagne that he had drunk, but she was sober as a judge. In fact, she felt like a judge, busy weighing the pros and cons of the situation before her. When Michael took her hand and led her to her bedroom, she simply followed.

  He began unbuttoning his shirt, sitting on the side of her bed. He took his shoes off, unsheathed his feet from their socks and carefully tucked them into his shoes. When he stood up and undid his belt buckle, his chest bare, he looked over at her and smiled. ‘Do I have to undress you?’ he asked.

  Kate smiled back, and hoped the smile didn’t show her uneasiness. She wasn’t sure if she was uneasy because she was afraid Michael would leave her or because she was afraid he might ask her to come with him. His great good humor was certainly inappropriate if he was planning to go without her, and Michael was not an insensitive man.

  Yet, like most men, he didn’t feel her mood as he began to make love to her. She felt his hands on her waist, then lower and he slipped her panties off. Then he moved his hands upward to cover her breasts. He kissed her, long and deeply, but Kate felt unmoved. When he began to touch her she realized that there was no way she could possibly have an orgasm. Ashamed to reveal herself, she simply climbed onto him and worked to make sure he achieved pleasure, but when they were finished Kate cradled him in her arms and, looking over his head at the dresser and the statue of the Virgin on it, she wondered what was wrong with her.

  28

  It had been a few days since Kate had heard from Bina. When she did call she didn’t even leave a moment’s opening for Kate’s news but chattered on. Apparently, she had been kept pretty busy by Billy. Kate supposed it was a good thing, since Kate needed time to figure out her own emotional landscape.

  Still, after a few moments, Kate found herself feeling oddly resentful of Bina’s harmless chatter. She went on and on about Billy: how funny he was, what a good time they’d had over dinner, how sophisticated he seemed to be and, lastly, ‘What a gentleman he is.’ This, Kate knew, was Bina talk for him not jumping her bones when he said goodnight. ‘I can see why he gets all the girls,’ Bina said. ‘He just seems to really listen when you talk. You know how guys are so busy talking or else how they kind of glaze over when you start talking?’ Kate, thinking of Michael, reluctantly had to admit she knew. ‘Well, he doesn’t do that.’

  ‘How refreshing,’ Kate said dryly. ‘So all is going well.’ Not that she was coming around to believe in Elliot’s ridiculous plan, but this distraction, Kate had to admit, must be a welcome break from the recent drama of Bina’s life.

  ‘Oh, we had the best time,’ Bina was saying. ‘He’s just so much fun. When we went to this club that he knew he…’

  Kate found it hard to listen. Besides, she had her own tribulations to deal with. She hated to admit it, but she was beginning to believe that Elliot’s assessment of Michael had been right. Michael, although sweet and caring in some ways, was self-involved and lately she had found him…dull. In the past week, he had called her daily, giving her updates on what Kate was beginning to think of as the Sagerman Situation. Since their dinner, he had spent most of their time together talking about nothing else.

  ‘So then he goes, “I would if I was crazy” and I go, “You are crazy”.’

  Kate had had a half-day at Andrew Country Day today as the school year was winding down, and she had another one tomorrow. She felt like having some company but Michael was going to a lecture and Kate, mercifully, didn’t have to accompany him. Suddenly it came to her that tonight would be the perfect evening to take a break from her own relationship and catch up with Bina’s. Once she thought of it, the idea burgeoned. She was, she had to admit, morbidly fascinated with the progress of Bina and Billy’s dating. If she was interested in anything else she certainly wasn’t going to admit it. And, as a psychologist, she felt an additional interest in seeing if Billy could manage to keep dating Bina for more than fifteen minutes. So far, all seemed well, but she would find out this evening – if Bina had the time and inclination to see her.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, breaking into Bina’s monologue, ‘you wanna walk the bridge?’

  Since they were teenagers, Kate and Bina had found pleasure in walking from one side of the Brooklyn Bridge to the other. Now, since Kate had moved across it, they occasionally met in the middle and then walked to one side or the other.

  ‘You’re kidding?’ Bina said. ‘God, we haven’t done that in ages.’

  ‘Why not?’ Kate asked. ‘I’ll buy you dinner in Brooklyn Heights. At Isobel’s.’ They both loved the restaurant, and Kate knew it would be great bait.

  ‘Same old Kate,’ Bina said. ‘I’ll go Dutch.’

  ‘Same old Bina,’ Kate laughed and they agreed to meet in the middle of the bridge.

  The walk was good for Kate. It felt as if it blew some of the cotton out of her clogged head. She thought about some of the children, and how they might get through the summer, she thought about Michael and his new offer, but mostly she thought about herself. She had to be prepared for either Michael’s decision to go to Texas without asking her to come or, alternatively, what she would do if he did ask her. She felt as if she should be happy. After all, wasn’t this possibility what she had been hoping for? Even if it was, though, there was something that nagged her about the way Michael was going about it. It wasn’t that he was cold exactly; it was more like self-centered – but then weren’t all men? If she was brutally honest with herself she also had to admit that she didn’t like the arrogance of his assumption that she’d drop everything and go with him. Still, she had no one to blame but herself for that. And why shouldn’t he assume (if he was assuming) that she would be willing to go to Texas with him? Unfortunately there were plenty of dysfunctional families and a need for child psychologists everywhere. She could set up her own practice. She would be the first member of her family not only to become a doctor but also to marry one. The Horowitzes would be so proud! And if there was something, well, something missing in her relationship with Michael, wasn’t everything imperfect in some way or other? Relationships were built over time with both people willing to listen and try to understand one another. Michael would certainly listen.

  Kate, her thoughts tumbling about in her head, walked faster than she expected to. When she hit the mid-point of the bridge she was alone and couldn’t even see Bina in the distance. She stopped for a moment, turned north and looked up the East River. This afternoon the water looked almost blue,
and the Williamsburg Bridge and the blue Triboro in the distance sandwiched Manhattan which rose on her left like a magical illusion. When she looked to the right, Brooklyn seemed flat and dull in comparison. The huge blocky buildings that housed the Jehovah Witness Complex and the warehouses along the harbor were prosaic. Kate felt something like a little tug on her heart. She looked back at Manhattan. There, small as it was, she had a place of her own, a place she had made and had lived in. Could she leave it? Why would she?

  She was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear Bina until her friend was beside her and put her hand on Kate’s shoulder.

  ‘A nickel for your thoughts,’ Bina said.

  ‘A nickel? I thought it was a penny.’

  ‘Inflation. Plus your thoughts are better than other people’s.’

  Bina took her hand and led her away from Manhattan, just like they used to do.

  ‘So how’s it going?’ Kate asked. ‘Have you been proposed to?’

  Bina laughed. With the wind catching her hair and the sunlight glancing off the blond streaks she looked almost as good as a shampoo ad.

  ‘That guy is crazy,’ she said. ‘We went to this club where they know him. Well, they know him everywhere. So everyone was saying hello. We didn’t even have to wait to get in.’ Bina began to ramble on with details that Kate found tedious. She ‘ummmed’ and ‘uh-huhed’ for a while. ‘…And then they start playing “Flavor of the Week”…you know the song?’ Bina asked Kate.

  ‘Yeah. I know it,’ Kate said.

  ‘Well, it must be like his theme song.’ Kate nodded, secretly amused. She was not really sure if Bina understood the lyrics entirely and how they pertained to Billy.

  ‘Well, everyone in the bar starts shouting: “Billy! Billy!” And at first he’s like brushing it off, you know what I mean?’ Bina asked.

  ‘Yeah. I know,’ Kate replied. She was feeling odd, as if Bina’s simple story was upsetting her on some high school level.