`Don't touch me.'
`Ah-'
`No!'
Lil was backed up against the tub and shower curtain as if threatened by a stranger in a cheap melodrama, and I,
slightly appalled by her apparent fear, backed meekly away.
`I've got a patient in half an hour, hon, I've got to go.'
`I'll try infidelity!' Lil shouted after me, 'Emma Bovary did it.'
I turned back again. She was standing with her arms folded over her chest, her two elbows pointing out sharply from
her long slender body, and with a bleak, mousy, helpless look on her face; at the moment she seemed like a kind of
female Don Quixote after having just been tossed in a blanket. I went to her, and took her in my anus.
`Poor little rich girl. Who would you have for adultery? The elevator man? [She sobbed.] Anyone else? Sixty-three #161;year old Dr. Mann, and flashy, debonair Jake Ecstein [she detested Jake and he never noticed her]. Come on, come on.
We'll go out to the farmhouse soon; it'll be the break you need. Now…'
Her head was still nestled into my chest, but her breathing was regular. She'd had just the one sob.
`Now . . . chin up . . . bust out . . . tummy in . . .'
I said. `Buttocks firm. . and you're ready to face life again. You can have an exciting morning: talking with Evie,
discussing avant-garde art with Ma Kettle [our maid], reading Time, listening to Schubert's Unfinished Symphony:
racy, thought-provoking experiences all.'
'You [she scratched her nose against my chest] …should mention that I could do coloring with Larry when he gets
home from school.'
`And that, and that. You've absolutely no end of home entertainments. Don't forget to call in the elevator man for a
quick one when Evie is having her rest time.'
My right arm around her, I walked us into our bedroom.
While I finished dressing, she watched quietly, standing next to tile big bed with arms folded and elbows out. She saw
me to the door and after we had exchanged a farewell kiss of less than great passion she said quietly with a bemused,
almost interested expression on her face. I don't even have my yoga anymore.'
Chapter Three
I shared my office on 57th Street with Dr. Jacob Ecstein, young (thirty-three), dynamic (two books published),
intelligent (he and I usually agreed), personable (everyone liked him), unattractive (no one loved him), anal (he plays
the stock market compulsively), oral (he smokes heavily), non-genital (doesn't seem to notice women), and Jewish (he
knows two Yiddish slang words). Our mutual secretary was a Miss Reingold, Mary Jane Reingold, old (thirty-six),
undynamic (she worked for us), unintelligent (she prefers Ecstein to me), personable (everyone felt sorry for her),
unattractive (tall, skinny, glasses, no one loved her), anal (obsessively neat), oral (always eating), genital (trying hard),
and non-Jewish (finds use of two Yiddish slang words very intellectual). Miss Reingold greeted me efficiently.
`Mr. Jenkins is waiting in your office, Dr. Rhinehart.'
`Thank you, Miss Reingold. Any calls for me yesterday?'
`Dr. Mann wanted to check about lunch this afternoon. I said yes".'
`Good.'
Before I moved off to my patient, Jake Ecstein came briskly out of his office, shot off a cheerful `Hi, Luke baby,
how's the book?' the way most men might ask about a friend's wife, and asked Miss Reingold for a couple of case
records.
I've described Jake's character; his body was short, rotund, chubby: his visage was round, alert, cheerful with horn-
rimmed glasses and a piercing, I-am-able-to-see-through-you stare; his social front was used-car salesman, and he
kept his shoes shined with a finish so bright that I sometimes suspected he cheated with a phosphorescent shoe polish.
`My book's moribund,' I answered as Jake accepted a fistful of papers from a somewhat flustered Miss Reingold.
`Great,' he said. `Just got a review of my Analysis: End and Means from the AP Journal. They say it's great.'
He began glancing slowly through the papers, placing one of them every now and then back onto his secretary's desk.
`I'm glad to hear it, Jake. You seem to be hitting the jackpot with this one.'
`People are seeing the light-'
'Er… Dr. Ecstein,' Miss Reingold said.