LITMIR.BIZ

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had a terminal illness they needed to come to terms with, which makes sense, considering Mickey Rooney specialized in grief counseling.

      "Glad to see you’re back, Dorothy," Dr. Frankenbaum said, motioning me into his office. "I had some concerns about your follow-through with treatment."

      "Well, my mom is paying a lot of money for these sessions and it was too late to cancel so I decided to come."

      "As long as you’re here, that’s the important thing."

      "I guess so," I said, sitting down.

      "How are you feeling today?"

      "I’m still a little tired, but not because of my dad dying, because I met this guy."

      "I see."

      "He’s my soul-mate."

      "How can you tell?"

      "We connect at a very deep level. A spiritual level, you might say. Well, if you’re not an atheist or anything like that. And he called me again, even after I threw up in his car. I think that says something."

      "You’re at an extremely vulnerable period in your life right now, Dorothy. I would have to advise against any serious relationships for the time being."

      Like I had any intention of giving up Lahrs just because Mickey Rooney told me not to get involved. Then I remembered what my brother said about telling him what he wanted to hear.

      "Dr. Frankenbaum. I think I’ve been working my way through the stages of grief, as a matter of fact, I know I have been. "

      "Really, tell me more."

      That’s when I realized I had completely forgotten to go to the library to get that Betsy Keebler-Ross book. Shit! But how could I have gone to the library? I had to wait for Lahrs's call. Didn't I?

      "Well, I—um—I was in shock. Great shock. Enormous shock, really, and then it vanished, just like that. But it was replaced. The shock was replaced by anger—anger of the cruelest kind."

      "Interesting. Very interesting. And how are you feeling now?"

      That’s all I could remember Jude saying from our family session. Shock and anger. There had to be more stages but what could they be? A brief eternal moment went by before I could think of anything to say. Then it hit me! Like—duh—I am an actress. I had been thinking like a patient and not a performer. I memorized hundreds of monologues and dialogues in acting classes. Why not put them to good use?

      I started with Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya.

      “I feel desperate loneliness, with no one around but these colorless shadows that go mooning about, talking nonsense and knowing nothing except that they eat, and drink and sleep.”

      "Yes, Dorothy, that’s it. Please, go on."

      "Now how easy was that?" I thought. The guy had obviously never seen a play in his life. And I had enough dialogue to last for years of treatment!

      I continued with another line from Uncle Vanya.

      "What can we do? We must live our lives. We shall live through the long procession of days before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials that fate imposes on us; we shall work for others without rest, both now and when we are old; and when our last hour comes we shall meet it humbly, and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered and wept, that our life was bitter, and God will have pity on us."

      "I sense that your father’s death has evoked in you a spiritual questioning—a search for answers—for meaning in life."

      I followed with a line from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar.

      "Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once."

      "That’s wonderful, Dorothy. I want you to feel free to open up to me. I want you to feel as though this office is your own private space, a safe place where you can reveal your innermost thoughts and feelings. That is one of the main reasons you are here, for you to feel comfortable with your inner self."

      I was really starting to enjoy therapy. I continued with a line from Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde.

      "To tell it is to live through it all again. Actions are the first tragedy in life, words are the second. Words are perhaps the worst. Words are merciless.”

      "I’m so impressed with your progress today, Dorothy, truly impressed. I consider this a breakthrough, and so early in treatment, it’s amazing to me. You—are amazing."

      And when I looked at Dr. Frankenbaum’s face, I saw a teardrop fall from the corner of his eye. I never thought therapy could be so much fun!

      Part 7: The Land of Oz has Never Been Civilized

      I guess I haven’t mentioned yet how I supported myself. Well, first and foremost, I was an actress. I have a degree in theatre from the University to prove it! Even though I had been out of college for a few years (three), I had yet to land a gig that paid more than $150. The following is a list my professional acting credits:

      —Customer #3 in the local television commercial for Three Wise Men Plumbing

      —Surprised Panelist on the infomercial for Mega-Handi Car Shampoo and All Purpose House Cleaner

      —Beach tourist with camera in the straight-to-video thriller Beach Babe Murders III: A Psycho on Waterskis (I could have had a speaking role in that one but I would have had to appear topless. My line would have been, “No, please don’t stab me with that fish carving knife. Nooooo!”)

      And last, but certainly not least, my appearance as…

      —The Waitress in the never-made-it-to-television pilot of U.S. Coast Guard Undercover: Vessel Command.

      But I did have an agent and, as crazy as she was, she still sent me on auditions. Well, sometimes she did but maybe not as often as I would have liked.

      I still thought of myself as an aspiring actress. And I still had my dreams of stardom. But that really doesn’t explain how I supported myself, does it? Temp work through Ms. Gulch’s Office Mates temporary office workers; odd jobs like delivering phone books, grading standardized tests and selling Vita-Vex vitamin supplements and the worst possible job ever known to man (and woman): SUBSTITUTE TEACHING! Now, I could probably write a book about the tales of a substitute teacher, and maybe someday I will. But you're here for another story entirely—so let's get on with it.

      Part 8: My Life Has Been So Short That I Really Know Nothing Whatever

      The day after my breakthrough session with Dr. Frankenbaum, I got up enough courage to visit my mom. No one answered when I rang the bell, but I still had a key, so I let myself in. And if it wasn’t the strangest thing, the house was completely empty, except for a small telephone table and my mom’s Dial M for Murder replica phone.

      I yelled for my mom but there was no response. Then the phone started ringing. I picked it up:

      "Hello," I said.

      "Dorothy, this is your mother."

      "Where are you, Mom?"

      "I’m staying at your brother's for a few days. They’re still painting my apartment."

      "Your what?"

      "My apartment, Sweetie."

      "Why do you have an apartment?"

      "Because I’m selling the house."

      "Why are you selling your house?"

      "That’s the only way I can afford to pay for the café."

      "What café?"

      "The one I’m buying."

      Have you ever started reading a book only to find out later that the first chapter was missing?

      "Mom,

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