“Really, doctor, I don’t understand why I have to attend therapy myself,” said Jeanne, as she settled into the couch. “Cereza is the one who is trying to choke to death on her own vomit.”
“Therapy is as much concerned with appreciating different perspectives as it is healing psychological damage,” said Kaufmann, who was himself getting comfortable. “I think you and Cereza will both find it helpful if you just see things from different viewpoints.”
“Are you sure you don’t just want two paying customers, hmmmm?”
Kaufmann gestured to the inconceivably expensive-looking designer handbag sitting in the corner of the couch. “You seem like a woman who understands that quality costs money.”
“True, true.”
“So, Jeanne, how are things between yourself and Cereza? What’s happened since our last meeting?”
Jeanne groaned. “Last Thursday morning,” she began, “I woke up, got out of bed, had a shower, went downstairs, and hanging above the fireplace, what do I find? A six-foot by seven-foot, framed, black-and-white photograph of Cereza. Naked.”
Kaufmann’s brow creased in confusion.
“I asked her what the hell it was, and she told me that some famous French nude photographer – I don’t remember his name, but then again I don’t usually memorize the names of pornographers – was visiting the city, and she just had to pose for him! It was a lifelong dream, she said! So now there’s a gigantic nude image of my partner overlooking the living room, and every time I sit down to have tea I’m reminded that a Gallic sleaze-merchant has been pointing his lens at my girlfriend’s pudenda!”
The doctor shrugged. “Well, if she appreciates his work…”
“Oh, Cereza doesn’t know the least thing about art! She did it to antagonize me, doctor. Everything that she does is to provoke people. You see how fond she is of tearing her clothes off for the whole world to see. Lingerie adverts. Glamour shoots. Demonic rituals which always end up with her clothes disappearing. She’s taunting people, telling them that they may gaze upon her, but they can never have her.”
“Well, doesn’t that make you feel special?”
“It makes me feel cheapened! As if she doesn’t care about the bond that we have!”
“But Jeanne, there has to be a difference between the public Cereza – Bayonetta! – and the private Cereza. Cereza is not a caricature, Jeanne, you know this! She’s a human being! Now, sure, she projects an image of a hypersexualized parody of a woman, but this is not the real Cereza. Bayonetta is a cartoon, an abstract, a marketing device used to sell perfume and lingerie and magazines, but your girlfriend, Cereza, is a flesh and blood human being! Part of the problem is that you seem to be confusing the two.”
“I’m not confused at all, doctor. I understand precisely what happened to Cereza.”
“Happened?”
Jeanne sighed deeply. “Cereza and I have known each other since we were children,” she began, and, hearing this, Kaufmann bent forward, listening closely. “As you know, we were both born five hundred years ago. We grew up in the Umbra order, an ancient clan of witches. Cereza and I could not have been more different. I was clan royalty. I was destined to inherit the throne of the order. Cereza…Cereza was an outcast. She was born of a forbidden union between a witch and…someone else.”
Jeanne grimaced as painful memories washed over her. “She was treated so wretchedly. The witches of the order, they were such poisonous, narrow-minded hypocrites. They bullied Cereza, treated her as if she was no better than an animal. That child wanted nothing more than to be accepted, to simply grow up without having scorn and hatred heaped upon her every single day. But those hags made it their mission to ensure that a little child’s life was as miserable and unhappy as possible.”
“I was Cereza’s best friend. I was her only friend. I was the only one in that clan that knew her heart. I was the only one who knew what goodness there was inside her. I alone knew what a wonderful, smart, caring, kind, generous soul she was. All of my youth, the sisters kept teaching me what an honour it was to be an Umbra Witch – but truly, I knew that the true honour was to have that precious girl as my childhood friend.”
Jeanne threw up a hand. “And then lots of things happened. Cereza almost died, I sealed her in a coffin for five hundred years, and when I found her again she had transformed into the monster that I’m paying you to cure.”
“I see,” said Kaufmann. He was silent for a moment, and then: “I wasn’t aware you two were childhood sweethearts.”
“Well, we never became lovers until this year. I’ve always been willing to die for her, however.”
“Right.” Kaufmann fiddled with his pen for a moment. “What was Cereza like as a young woman? Just before she was ‘sealed away’?”
“Brave. Noble. Intelligent. But above all resilient. Those crones tried to break her spirit,” and here Jeanne gave a smirk. “They were so angry when they saw what a proud, glorious woman Cereza grew to be.”
“Would you describe the present-day Cereza as ‘proud’ and ‘glorious’?”
Jeanne shook her head, ruefully. “The words that spring to mind when I think of my Cereza now are ‘disappointing’, ‘wasted’ and ‘potential’.”
“Those are some…strong words, Jeanne.”
Jeanne shrugged. “Cereza could be anything she wants. A powerful leader. A hero. An inspiration to so many others.”
“People have different priorities, Jeanne! What if Cereza just wants to enjoy life? So long as she’s faithful to you, and respects your feelings, what’s the problem with lowering your ambitions?”
Jeanne smiled tolerantly. “I’m a teacher. Never accept ‘adequate’ from a person when they’re capable of so much more. My students will tell you I’m a slave-driver, but they’ll think differently when they’re older and they realize that I rescued them from a life behind the counter in filthy fast-food restaurants.”
Jeanne grew wistful. “Doctor, you never knew the Cereza that I grew up with. You never beheld her in person. You don’t know how brilliant she was, how brilliant she could still be. She could achieve anything. Instead, she models sexy underwear and exotic fragrances. And goes out at night and drinks herself into oblivion while her girlfriend waits at home and hopes that she is safe.”
Jeanne shook her head, despairingly. “What became of you, Cereza? If only I was there with you when you needed me. Perhaps you wouldn’t have turned out the way you are now.”
She looked at Kaufmann. “Can you fix her?” she asked.
“Fix her?”
“When Cereza woke up after her long sleep, it took me twenty years to find her. Something happened in that time, something that reduced her to a shell of herself.” Jeanne pressed forward, and Kaufmann thought he could perceive an urgent desperation in her eyes. “You have to help her. She’s not happy, the way things are. She can’t be happy. The old Cereza is still in there, somewhere. We have to get her back to her old self. I want my dearest friend back. I want my Cereza back.”
[][][][][][][][][]
“Cereza, do you want to be with Jeanne?”
Cereza rolled her eyes. “Now that’s a silly question to ask, isn’t it? Of course I want to be with Jeanne! Why else would I put up with her incessant nagging? Why else would I agree to go to these ridiculous meetings? Do you think I come here so you can poke your nose into my sex life, doctor? I agreed to come here, hoping that it would allow me a little respite from my girlfriend’s constant moaning. Instead, ever since she started attending the couples’ sessions – another one of your bright ideas, doctor – she’s been even more critical than usual.”
Doctor Kaufmann tilted his head. “So, you’re happy in your relationship with Jeanne, then?”
“Doctor, look at me. I mean, look at me.” Kauffman complied, and Cereza twisted herself onto her belly and stretched across the couch. Gazing at him with a contemptuous smirk, she arched her back, thrusting her buttocks into the air and accentuating every curve in her body. It was a maneuver clearly rehearsed many times before; well, thought Kaufmann, she is a model, after all.
“If I were to leave Jeanne, do you think I’d have trouble finding another lover? Hmmm? Look at me, I’m sex on fucking legs. If my relationship with Jeanne wasn’t entirely to my satisfaction, I’d hardly have any difficulty upgrading, now would I?”
“That’s not really what we’re talking about, Cereza.”
“Oh?” she said, returning to her original seated position.
“Cereza, I’m going to level with you. My job is to help fix relationships. People walk into this office with dysfunctional marriages, broken relationships, wildly different personalities that can never be reconciled, and they expect me to just fix things for them. The most I can do is…give them a little push in the right direction. But to tell you the truth, most of the relationships that I work with in this job – they can’t be fixed. Some people just aren’t meant to be together. Some people can’t exist together, it’s just not possible. I’m beginning to wonder whether you and Jeanne fit into that category, Cereza.”
“Are you telling me that my relationship with Jeanne is doomed, doctor?” Cereza gave a highly theatrical, highly sardonic gasp. “Oh, Jeanne will be heartbroken! I’m going to have to go home and tell her we’re not to be! Goodness, this is going to be painful to watch! Oh, the tears, the agony! And she was so sure that you’d be able to help us, doctor! Oh, well, silver linings and all that. At least I won’t have to go to these fucking therapy sessions any more…”
“Cereza, I’m serious. Do you want to be with Jeanne?”
“Are you even listening to me, doctor? I already told you, of course I want to be with Jeanne.”
“Well, then, let me share with you another little insight I picked up in my years of service to the cause of psychotherapy.” He fixed his eyes on her. “Everyone always wants to be the good guy. When a relationship fails, people always want to say that it wasn’t their fault, that the blame was on the other side. People always want to say that they were the reasonable ones, that they gave the relationship their all, and that the relationship failed because of the other. Cereza, I think you’re trying to force Jeanne to leave you.”
Cereza stared at Kaufmann, her mouth agape, and then laughed disbelievingly. “What?” she scoffed. “Why on earth would I do that, Mister Psychotherapist?”
“Because you want her to leave you. Because you want to blame her for the relationship coming to an end. Because when you and Jeanne break up and people ask, ‘what happened?’, you want to tell them that you tried your best, but Jeanne didn’t want to be with you anymore.”
“Doctor, are you suggesting that I’ve too much of a coward to dump Jeanne?” Cereza leaned forward, glaring at this insolent shrink. “I’ve dumped dozens of lovers in the past, you know. I’ve had quite a lot of practice, actually; I can make it painless or agonizing, depending on my mood. If I wanted to get rid of Jeanne, I would. I would tell her that it was over, to her face, and I certainly wouldn’t play any silly games about it, as you’re insinuating.”
She shook her head in disbelief, as if she had been dealt an unforgivable insult. “Wait a minute, wait a minute, are you trying to piss me off, doctor? Are you honestly telling me that I’m too scared to leave Jeanne? I’m a witch! I fight angels! I went into space! I punched God into the sun! I’m scared of nothing, least of all hurting Jeanne’s feelings!”
“I think we’ve established that you’re not afraid of hurting Jeanne’s feelings, Cereza.”
Deflating, Cereza sank back into her seat. “Yes, well…”
“It’s sort of the reason you’re here.”
“If you say so.”
“Cereza, in the past, have you ever been in a relationship as serious as this relationship with Jeanne?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Remember now, I’m your therapist. If you lie to me, it’s only going to come back to bite you on the ass.”
Cereza scowled angrily. Her next words came out in an almost robotic tone. “No. No-I-have-never-been-in-a-relationship-as-serious-as-my-relationship-with-Jeanne.”
“Okay, okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Now, you told me that you were five hundred years old, isn’t that right?”
She sighed. “Yes, but I spent the great majority of those years having the world’s longest beauty sleep. Which probably explains why my skin is always so full and delicious. Did I ever mention that I have I have an eight-figure contract with Nivea?”
“When did you wake up from this ‘beauty sleep’?”
“Twenty years ago.”
“Twenty years ago, and would I be right in saying that during those twenty years, you indulged in a lot of meaningless, casual sexual relationships?”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it!” she chortled, but then her face grew grim. “It was fun at the time, but then no sooner do I save the world than two dozen of my former paramours are lining up to sell their stories to those tabloid rags. Ugh. Parasites.”
“Well, let’s not lose track of what’s important, here.” Kaufmann pushed out of his seat, and began pacing back and forth across the room. “See if this fits: for twenty years, you live the high life, indulging in empty, insignificant, no-strings-attached sex with strangers, treating yourself to one sexual conquest after another. It’s fun, it’s exciting, it helps you kill time, but deep down, you know how shallow your life is. Deep down, you know how unfulfilling all this sleeping around is. You begin to wonder if you’ll ever find something more substantial. You begin to wonder if you’ll find something more meaningful.”
As he spoke, Kaufmann began motioning with his hands to emphasize the ideas that he was trying to communicate. After a while, Cereza began mimicking him, wildly gesticulating as she sat back on the couch. He ignored her.
“Suddenly, after all those years of cold, anonymous sex, Jeanne enters the picture! Now you’re in a real relationship. For the first time, you’re in love with someone. And it’s everything you imagined; there’s feelings, and romance, and stability. You’ve found someone who satisfies you emotionally, intellectually, physically and spiritually. And you realize that you don’t need the superficial things in life, anymore. You don’t need one-night stands. You don’t need to wake up beside strangers. You’ve found your partner, your mate, someone that maybe, just maybe, you could grow old with.”
“But there’s a problem. There’s a problem that’s gnawing at you. What that problem is, we’ll get to later. But the bottom line is, eventually, this relationship begins to suffocate you. You love this woman, she makes you happy and secure, but there’s something off about the whole situation, and you need to get out. You need to end this relationship.”
“But if you do end this relationship, and you walk away from Jeanne, what do you have left? What is there to go back to? You think about this, and the answer is pretty obvious. You’ll go back to your old life. You’ll go back to having numb, hollow sex with people in bars and nightclubs. You’ll go back to getting drunk in grimy, seedy drinking holes.”
“In other words, Cereza, you know that if you abandon Jeanne, and if you go back to your old life, you’ll have failed at…something. You’ll have failed at trying to live in the real world. You’ll have failed at building a life with someone. You’ll have failed to prove that you’re a substantial human being. You’ll have failed to prove that there’s more to you than luscious lips and long legs and a plump ass.”
“This is why you’re unable to dump Jeanne. This is why she has to be the one to abandon you. You need Jeanne to be the bad guy. You need Jeanne to be the one that ends the relationship. If Jeanne is one that leaves, then it’s not your fault. You tried to make things work between the two of you, but she wasn’t willing. Not your fault. You’re a good girlfriend. You’ll find someone else. You’re not the shallow person you used to be. You’re going to lead a happy, rewarding life.”
“You need Jeanne to break up with you. And how do you go about accomplishing this? You begin to act up. You stagger home drunk at three or four in the morning. You flirt with other men and women in front of her. You get yourself into fights. You embarrass her publicly. Every night, she sits at home, worried, wondering if you’re safe, if you’re okay. And you’re out there somewhere, wondering what her breaking point is. You wonder: what will it take to push her over the edge? What will I have to do before she can’t take any more?”
“You’ve told me several times that Jeanne tries to change who you are. That she can’t accept you for who you are. It’s a very convenient narrative, isn’t it? When Jeanne has finally had enough, and leaves you, people will ask why. And you can tell them: she tried to control me. She didn’t love me for who I was.”
Kaufmann lowered himself back into his chair. “Jeanne deserves to be treated better than this, Cereza. You’re torturing her, and she doesn’t even understand why. Why should she suffer, just because you don’t have the courage to confront the truth?”
Cereza was staring impassively at the floor. She raised hesitant eyes to the doctor, and cleared her throat.
“Could you repeat all that?” she said. “My mind sort of wandered.”