Lydia the Counselor
Jill was leaving Pear Blossom hospital. She enjoyed her stay, the nursing staff and aides treated her well, and she knew she’d miss the place. One of the counselors, Lydia, informed her that if she liked, she would remain her counselor on the outside. Lydia had never counseled on an outpatient basis before, but was attracted to the good-looking young girl, and offered her services for free. Jill’s mother, Eve, jumped at this opportunity. Jill never cared much for Lydia, but it provided an opportunity to continue a relationship with the hospital. The fourteen-year-old was looking forward to it.
Eve drove Jill to their first meeting, though the girl could have taken a bus. Eve wanted to be present, to at least sit in the waiting room. Eve had little opinion about Lydia, did not know much about her, but was glad her daughter had access to this wonderful, private hospital. Lydia, who was fatter than a zoo animal, emerged from the hallway in a tan and white cotton dress that looked like a space suit and held a large folder to her breast as if she was very professional.
In a large office that belonged to nobody in particular, Jill met with Lydia for the first time. “So how have you been doing since you’ve been home?” Lydia asked. “Fine,” Jill answered. “What have you been doing?” “Nothing,” she replied. “Have you been getting along with your mother?” Jill said no. Lydia wanted to know what the problem was. Jill said, “I’d rather spend time with my boyfriend than her.” Lydia’s eyes opened wider. “You have a boyfriend? What’s his name?” “George,” Jill said. Jill believed in one or two syllable responses. “What do you and George do together?” “What do you think we do?” Jill snapped. Lydia’s wide-eyed gaze became steadier, more focused. “Do you have sex with George?” “I just fucked him the other day,” Jill replied. Lydia exhaled her cigarette smoke. “His dick is ten and a half inches long,” the girl added. Lydia puffed on her cigarette. “Some teenagers think that size matters,” she said, smiling.
In the weeks that followed, Lydia asked the teenager more and more questions about sex: about kissing, touching, fondling, foreplay, oral sex, anal, vaginal intercourse, threesomes, anything in Lydia’s imaginal repertoire. The thirty-year-old woman chain-smoked her cigarettes freely during these discussions, hastily blowing out a large puff of smoke after each question. “Does it turn you on when men fondle you?” she asked. “Sure,” Jill said. “Do you engage in anal sex with George?" “All the time," the girl responded. "There’s fondling with every one of my boyfriends and I have anal sex with them all, too.” “How many boyfriends do you have now?” “I have between five and ten at any given time, and I fuck them all,” Jill informed her. “But I love George the most.” “I see,” Lydia said, looking down and dragging on her cigarette.
Jill voluntarily described a threesome that she had with one man and one woman. Lydia extended her hand and said, “I commend you.” Jill wasn’t sure why, but went along with it. She recounted every detail. “Do you like to watch men masturbate? Lydia said.” “You mean jerk off?” “Does it turn you on?” She forced out a breath of smoke. “Not especially,” the girl said. “Oh, it turns me on,” Lydia added, turning her head to the side and blowing out smoke. Over the months, and then years, Jill had given Lydia every lurid detail of her sexual encounters. She engaged in sex acts sometimes just so she could report them to Lydia. She believed that the two talked about sex all the time because she was so promiscuous and that it was part of her treatment. Jill occasionally wondered about the therapeutic value but said nothing.
As Jill walked out of the room, she noticed a large plaque on the wall in the lobby. It read, “Founded by Martin J. Plesko in 1954.” Jill stopped Lydia before leaving. “Is he your father?” she said, pointing to the plaque.” “My grandfather,” Lydia said, as if she’d just uttered profound words. Jill shrugged her shoulders and headed out the door to the bus stop.
After sitting home watching TV for several hours, the young girl became bored. She struck up conversation with her mother. “Lydia’s grandfather founded Pear Blossom,” Jill said. “I know,” Eve said. “There must be highly intelligent people in Lydia’s family.”
Jill looked up to therapists in general, and wanted to know what degree Lydia had, what her level of education was. “I have a certificate in Occupational Therapy from ECC,” the obese woman said. “And I counseled teenagers at a summer camp for three straight years. They liked me so much they wanted me to keep coming back. I also took a few Psychology courses.” The young girl was impressed. But she knew that ECC was sometimes nicknamed “Easy Credit College” by her older friends, since it was a city school that accepted the dumb ones. Jill was particularly interested in the Psych courses and believed Lydia must be very professional and well-qualified.
Lydia lit a cigarette. She began looking at the notes in her folder. “I think you should break up with George,” Lydia said. “He’s not the assistant manager at Target, he’s only the stock boy. I checked into it. Another one of my patients sees George, too. This guy is getting around.” The young girl resisted. But every week Lydia criticized George more and more. “The next time you talk to him and he wants to go out, tell him you have other plans,” Lydia advised. Jill loved George but had faith in Lydia. She wanted to tell Lydia how special he was to her but couldn’t think of the words. Lydia’s urgings dominated.
When she talked to George later that night, she said, “Lydia says you have another girlfriend besides me. Colleen.” “Yes, I do, I admit that,” George said. “I love both of you.” “How many other women are there?” “Only the two of you. I swear it,” George said. Jill went on, “But Lydia--” “Who’s Lydia?” he demanded. “Colleen told me something about Lydia. Is she a lezzy?” Jill said no. “Is she a whore?” “No.” "Then what is she?" he asked. She did not tell him that she was a counselor. Jill finally said, “You have to choose between Colleen and me.” George started crying. “I choose both of you,” he said. “Then I’ll make your decision for you,” Jill told him. He began crying harder. “Keep her.” George sobbed and sobbed and continually asked his brother for tissues. Jill knew she did not want to leave George in spite of another woman. But Lydia had advised her and Jill wanted to please her. Jill buckled under the weight of Lydia’s demands.
“I broke up with George,” Jill told Lydia at their next meeting. The zoo animal smoked and smoked and said nothing. She didn’t seem to care. “How many times a week do you have sexual intercourse?” Lydia said, ignoring the subject of her former boyfriend. “Every day,” Jill answered, pleased that Lydia was finally speaking. “Why do you ask?” “Well,” Lydia said, “If a girl has sex for the first time and enjoys it, she will probably continue to do it.” This made sense to the young girl. “I made up a list last week,” Jill bragged. “I’ve had sex ninety-four times.” “Another girl told me that she made a list also,” Lydia said. “She estimated a hundred thirty-six times a year.” Jill was embarrassed to know she had been beaten. “Every day is a lot,” she said, “but it’s only been a couple years.” “I’ll tell you something,” the counselor said. “I could go for it once a week. Just between you and me.” Sometimes a hatred towards Lydia crept into Jill’s heart.
Jill knew that her mother listened in on her phone calls sometimes. So she decided one day, to listen in on one of Eve’s calls. It was Lydia! “I feel like I’m losing a daughter,” Lydia was saying. “But there’s nothing I can do.” “Would you be able to see her somewhere else?” “I can’t do that,” Lydia said. “I need the malpractice insurance and the hospital won’t pay for it anymore when I’m treating outpatients. Pear Blossom is cutting costs.” “Hmm,” Jill heard her mom say. “It’s a shame.” “Yes. I feel like I’m losing a loved one. So we’ll go to Denny’s, the three of us, and I’ll tell her.” Jill placed the handset down silently.
Three days later, Jill was in a restaurant with Lydia and Eve. The three were drinking lemonade. “I have to let you know, I can’t see you anymore,” Lydia said, frowning. “Oh yeah?” Jill said. She was prepared. “I don’t care.” The fat woman was unaffected. Jill didn’t know why. “The hospital won’t give me insurance anymore.” Lydia explained. “I’ll go somewhere else if I want,” Jill said. Lydia pronounced with a grin, “I might be leaving soon to get married, so it works out anyway.” Jill wanted to hear Lydia talk about losing a child, but Lydia never mentioned it. Jill cried every day for the next two years. As the teenager grew into an adult, she began to feel violated. Why had she been so eager and so willing to talk about sex with Lydia?
If it happened now, as a twenty-year old, she knew, the fat fuck would never get away with it.
