The man with the keys to my inner dwellings

“Hi Fiona,” the Doctor waves at me through the webcam.

“Good morning Mentalist,” I smile back teasing him.

“How was your weekend?” the Doctor enquires.

“Wonderful,” I chime back. “Played with kids. Trampoline and swimming pool.”

“I take it you are slaving away?” the Doctor wants to know whether I am also working hard behind my desk instead of mindless internet surfing.

“Did homework with kids and home cooking,” I go on. “Yes I am slaving away at work”

“I need your help,” the Doctor suddenly says in a mysterious tone.

“Tell me,” I am curious what this is all about. The Doctor asking for my help. Now that’s a first.

“If I send you some money could you send it to a PayPal account?” the Doctor explains.

“Probably,” I answer hesitantly as hundreds of thoughts and red flags flood my mind.

“Yes / no,” the Doctor asks with a slight tone of annoyance at not getting a straight answer.

“How much money?” I start asking questions now I am pushed for making a decision. “Will you revoke the money?”

“Between 700 and 1200,” the Doctor replies coolly.

“Invoice or no invoice?” I go on questioning him. “Will you get me into trouble?”

“Invoice should not be necessary,” the Doctor brushes me off.

“Ok,” I sigh reluctantly. I really do want to help but the feelings of unease are impeding this decision.

“No you won’t get in trouble,” the Doctor reassures me. “It is all legal.”

“And you won’t revoke it leaving me in debt?” I ask him again.

“It just means I send you money,” the Doctor explains calmly. “When you get it you then use your credit card or whatever to make a payment to PayPal. You can choose which option you want. Or just say transfer to family or friend. Then you send it.”

“Ok,” I say a little more determined and relieved now. It sounds all straight forward.

“No first you get the money,” the Doctor explains again. “Don’t you trust anyone? I trust you to send it.”

“Trust is hard,” I admit.

“Are you assuming I am a thief?” the Doctor barks at me now.

“No,” I pout.

“You are bad,” the Doctor laughs in an attempt to brighten my mood. Emotions are notorious for influencing your decisions, you know.

“I don’t understand why you are nice to me,” I try inadequately to word what I am feeling.

“Trust is a quality you can work on. Caution is a good thing,” the Doctor offers a helping hand in unraveling my internal motions. “Because I take my friends very seriously.”

“We are friends,” I confirm with some element of doubt.

“I hope so,” the Doctor winks at me. “I will let you know in a few days how much I need to send to myself for my business.”

“Ok,” I say again this time with a much lighter heart as the sunken feeling in my stomach has disappeared now.

“When you get home and have finished your chores let me know so we can discuss Winston,” the Doctor gets back to the troubles I have been facing with my eldest boy.

“Thanks,” I beam gratefully.

“Have a good one,” the Doctor blows me a kiss.

“You too,” I smile back at him.

Why does this man carry so many keys, I ask myself? I find it fascinating to be a student into the psychological working of my own inner world.





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