offwhite wool and had no sleeves but rather two big gaping holes at the shoulder and every time she gestured or got a drink or got a piece of flavorless brown bread, you couldnât help seeing her pointy small breasts when she bent forward. But then she seemed like she might not mind your seeing her pointy small breasts. I told Lisa that I couldnât help noticing her pointy small breasts.
âYes,â said Lisa seriously, âtheyâre always pointy and sticking through her crocheted tops. Joan once gave me a speech on how dishonest I was because I shaved my underarms. Joan is that womanâs roommateâ¦â Lisa pointed her drink toward a brunette version of Joan, who had long dark hair as if she might think she looked like an Indianâwait: native Americanâwith a leather headband (HOW unfashionable â¦) pulling her hair back, but from the neck down she was dressed like an almost-stylish secretary in a âmidiâ with white hose that looked strange between the midi and the leather boots.
âSallyâs a classic,â said Lisa, pulling me further back from the party so we could gossip. âLast month she had two analysts. Two. She had so many problems, you see, she went to one on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the other on Monday and Wednesdays. On weekends she went out and did self-destructive, stupid things to talk about Monday through Thursday.â
Lisa was rehearsing her stand-up comedy routine, right?
âNo, I couldnât make this story up,â she went on, steadying herself on my arm. I led us both to a sofa that someone had spilled a drink on and therefore was deserted. âAll her problems in life are because of Daddy,â said Lisa. âDaddy who pays the rent on her $400 a month loft apartment Iâd kill for, Daddy who pays her analystsâ bills, Daddy who is a wealthy real-estate tycoon who sends her to Europe once a summerââ
Sounds like child abuse to me too, I said.
âWell Daddy,â Lisa continued, âis the source of all her neuroses and when the Unification Church didnât help and the Peopleâs Love Temple didnât help and a retreat with the Mormons didnât help, she went to this high-priced analyst and told him about her daddy who raped her, abused her, and fondled her as a child and why this has caused her to be frigid with men today. Well the doctor came up with a therapy: sue Daddy. Take him to court, exorcise those demons, expose him for what he is, a public catharsis.â
And she did?
Lisa smiled, âThere was a problem,â she continued, raising a finger. âMainly that she made it all up. So she started going to Analyst No. 2 and told him about telling Analyst No. 1 the rape story. He asked her why she made it up, and she said that it was because Analyst No. 1 had made a pass at her and had molested her during a Valium treatment and she was so scared of him that in order to assert how vulnerable and fragile she was she created the whole father-rape story. It gets good here. Analyst No. 2 is outraged that Analyst No. 1 did these things and tells Sally that she should sue him, get his license revoked, expose him for the quack he isâitâs analysts like that who give analysts a bad name, right? And so he was going to take this up with the New York Psychiatric Board.â
She made up the second story as well?
âYes, so sheâs in a bit of a spot. Now I canât remember what comes first here, the affair with Analyst No. 3, who I think I saw here at this party, or her botched suicide attemptââ
Suicide attempt?
âYeah, she took too many pills, unfortunately. I mean, unfortunately because so many people want her loft. Anyway, Joan moved in with her and the details are foggy. Itâs been a long time since she told me all this stuff.â
She TOLD Lisa all this?
âHoney, sheâll tell you all this; any acquaintance, the mailman, for