The First Session (Part I)

After the death of his wife, Tony was recommended by family to see a psychiatrist. It was a Tuesday morning and Tony found himself seated comfortably on a brown leather couch in a well air conditioned room. He examined the glass coffee table in front of him which was covered with magazines that ranged from Cosmopolitan to Time, there was even an old issue of Sports Illustrated. Tony decided to look through Martha Stewart Living, this was Mary's favorite magazine, but he could never understand her fascination with towels and curtains.

He continued to look around the waiting room and noticed the sun peeking through the window to his left, he laughed at the beige curtains that resembled the ones in the magazine he had been thumbing through. Tony was fascinated with the decorating of the waiting room and thought of his wife. She was a fiend for color schemes and center pieces, and he began to think what she might have changed about the room, or if she would have left it the same. The last thing he noticed was the single white calla-lily that sat in a blue vase in the far corner.

"Mr. Fitzgerald", Tony was disrupted from his floral examination, "Dr. Peterson will see you now."

Tony took a deep breath as he stood to enter what he thought was a "mental check-up". He walked into the room and was overwhelmed with the massive book collection that decorated the room. He thought the room looked more like a library than a doctor's office. He was then reassured about the true nature of the room as he saw the ever-popular psychiatrist couch in the middle of the room.

"Well it won't bite." Tony stopped and turned to the voice. For the first moment in what seemed like forever, he forget about his wife. Tony had never heard anything this sweet, never seen anything so nice, and only once felt time stop, that was the day that he met Mary.

"Excuse me?" Tony questioned her.

"Sit down Mr. Fitzgerald so we may begin. The chair won't bite, neither will I."

"Begin? Shouldn't we wait for Dr. Peterson?"

"Well if there is another Dr. Peterson you wish to see then sure, but for now you'll have to settle for me. Dr. Sarah Peterson." She smiled and shook his hand. She felt comfort from his strong hands.

"But your beautiful." He shook his head as he corrected himself, "I mean your a woman."

She blushed, "I am flattered Mr. Fitzgerald and yes I am a woman. But I think we should start, we only have an hour per session."

Tony shook his head in agreeance, once again studied the couch for one last time before laying down. He was then greeted with an outrageous amount of comfortability, which eased his anxiety.

"So, will it be ok if I call you Tony?"

"Please do. I am not your boss." He chuckled at his comment. Tony usually used humor as a way to cope with his nervousness.

"Well Tony, tell me about yourself."

"What is it that you wish to know?"

"Whatever it is you wish to tell me. I just want to know more about you."

"Well, I still don't know what I should tell you." Tony tried to stare at the ceiling to keep from looking at Sarah. He was dazzled by her beauty. He examined her from head to toe, finding an overwhelming interest in her face. He liked the way her brown hair was in a bun, and her complexion was something perfect to him. He loved her glasses though, he thought her glasses made her even sexier. When he looked at her, he did not in any way look at her with a disgusting lustful eye. He had the eyes of an admirer.

"I'll give you an example. I like reading. I have a dog. I like shrimp. My favorite color is green. My favorite flower is..."

"A white calla-lily?" He interrupted.

She was surprised, shocked even. "Yes", she said softly so that he could barely hear.

"I wish I were more of a conventional man. One who followed sports or went to strip clubs. One who enjoyed the thrill of roller-coasters and scary movies. But conventional I am not. No, I am one who thinks with the thoughts of red roses and church bells. I am one who has actually become more satisfied with the feeling of ink leaving a pen, than the feeling one shares while experiencing intercourse. I am fascinated with beauty and the thought of what is beautiful."

"No you are not conventional", she agreed with him. "I see you have a ring on your finger. Tell me about your wife."