When the Mentalist’s number shows up on my phone display I am in a muddle of different emotions: surprise, relief and also still feeling very hurt.
“Are you still sulking?” the Mentalist finally asks as I have answered the phone without saying a word.
“Oh… I thought I would need to go into hypnosis regression therapy and get over the hurt of my family before I could approach and talk to you again,” I admit what I have been thinking about whilst mourning the loss of this friendship the past 8 days. “How are you?”
“Good idea,” the Mentalist approves. “Or you could just put it behind you and make an effort not to play silly games. Disappointed with my oven. The dough is not rising. Use regressive hypnosis to stop smoking. It works.”
“I should really,” I agree happy that things seem completely normal between us. “Hate smoking and love it at the same time. Smoking is incompatible with things I love, like my kids, hockey and my health. Is it a new oven? Did you read the instructions?”
“Better stop,” the Mentalist confirms. “Learn to replace it. Your heart will feel better for it.”
“I have lost 6kg,” I am proud to announce. “David is stressing my kids.”
“Yes it’s new. Yes I did read the instructions. Still not sure if it is accurate yet. Might have to adjust heat or recipe,” the Mentalist is annoyed I challenged him on the oven. “Well done. Soon you will be 25 again.”
“Keep trying till you find the right mix,” I repeat one of his own lessons to me.
“What else is new?” the Mentalist wants to know what I have been up to during our silent week.
“Nothing really, I am reading and studying,” I tell him the boring stuff first.
“Teach them how to cope with David,” the Mentalist immediately jumps to the subject that interests him most.
“House still not sold,” I point out which subject is more important to me. “Yes I am planning to teach them coping skills.”
“Also you know you or he can’t force them to go by law if they don’t want to go and see him,” the Mentalist continues undisturbed.
“And tell them there is a way out,” I continue my own line of thought. “That they are always welcome with me or Wim if it gets too bad. They love their dad. But monologuing with Winston over the phone for half an hour is not good.”
“Of course,” the Mentalist agrees fiercely. “Tell they don’t have to go if they don’t want to. Might mess with your plans but they are more important.”
“The boy is jumping on his tippy toes when David comes to pick them up,” I recount what happened when my ex came to collect the kids last. “He is totally stressed out. And Winston finally said to me it doesn’t change anything if he is quiet or not. If David is in a bad mood he will go on and on at the kids all evening long. I know what he’s going through.”
“Try and speak to him about it to see if you can find out what they talk about,” the Mentalist advises me. “If it’s bad put a stop to it by first telling David to stop abusing them. If he continues use the courts and record his conversations.”
“And I am even more worried knowing he is sensitive,” my alarm is palpable in my voice. “Especially since he mentioned suicide some months ago.”
“Oooh cut off access to internet unless supervised please,” the Mentalist exclaims.
“David is useless. You can’t talk to him,” I exclaim. “He refuses to see he does anything wrong. What do you mean about the internet?”
“Record the abuse and then take him to court,” the Mentalist repeats. “Suicide is not a normal young boy response. But cyber bullying teaches them this.”
“It happens when they are with David,” I go on.
“Indeed,” the Mentalist confirms.
“Cyber bullying?” I suddenly question. “I thought of blocking the telephone connection with David. Cyber bullying??? What about PlayStation and Netflix?”
“Other kids bullying Winston,” the Mentalist explains. “No don’t. Don’t make Winston choose. Just be there and have the phone on speaker so you can listen and record the conversations.”
“Ok what if he calls Winston during the day?” I want to know.
“No that’s ok I guess,” the Mentalist answers in reply to internet access. “Just use parent control for that.”
“He is continuously calling Winston,” I complain. “Sometimes even 2 or 3 times a day.”
“Tell au-pair person to be aware and record,” the Mentalist plans out wisely. “Make it a game and a secret with Winston and Lilly.”
“Okay will discuss this,” I agree. “Good thinking.”
“Good luck with it,” the Mentalist concludes encouragingly. “David needs to be put in his place. Useless father.”
“Yes selfish and useless,” I acquiesce.
“I guess like his father and perhaps more stupid,” the Mentalist retorts.
“Which one?” I ask puzzled. “His biological or his adoptive father?”
“Bio and the one who brought him up,” the Mentalist answers to no great help.
“So a contradictory combination,” I ponder. “Lower class and upper class. Pervert and straight.”
“He got to keep the uneducated lower class part,” the Mentalist decides.
“Yes he did,” I am eager to agree. “Don’t we use the word dough for money? Give me some dough. So dough rising would be an increase in income. Funny.”
“Yes if you were from Hell’s kitchen in New York,” the Mentalist jokes.
“I am Googling that right now,” I say as I type it into my favourite search engine.
“You might call money dosh,” the Mentalist banters on.
“Yes I have heard my cousins call it dosh, but that just doesn’t do it for me,” I hold that thought for just a moment. “Dosh sounds so petty. Dough sounds more consistent. Strange associations.”
“Yes indeed,” the Mentalist trails off. “Dough sounds more mafia.”
“Yeah,” I laugh out loud. “We have had a new idea. Something along the lines of massage with happy end for women and by women. What do you think?”
“Great. New concept,” the Mentalist replies enthusiastically. “Do you use toys?”
“I don’t know, but that could be part of the deal,” I shrug realizing I know nothing about massaging women. “I am not doing it myself, I will just be running the business.”
“The madam,” the Mentalist emphasizes. “Yes good idea just don’t fuck the staff or your business will implode.”
“No strictly business,” I say all prim. “Will see how we start setting this up.”
“Gotta go and bake. See you later,” the Mentalist is in a hurry all of a sudden. “So will you come out the cupboard now too?”
“What do you mean? I am not gay,” I reply outraged. “I am not even in the cupboard. I have tried sex with girls. Interesting but no, yuk.”
“Focus on executive business women for clients and find good looking girls,” the Mentalist advises. “Not dykes and other strange looking girls. Ones without issues. Send them for training to be a masseuse.”
“Really I find a pussy exciting to look at but not for too long,” I am keen to set the record straight. “It’s a turnoff to get close to one or touch it. Baaah. Oh yes super duper. Yes yes yes.”
“Go for it,” the Mentalist chirps.
“I will,” I decide.
“Include a foot massage as a starter pack,” the Mentalist lays the grounds for my business plan.
“What about the happy end?” I want to know where this fits in.
“A strap on might do the trick,” the Mentalist sounds all cheeky now. “Yes a happy end is optional at a price.”
“Strap ons are… disgusting,” I say as I curl up my nose. “But okay it might flip somebody’s skirt.”
“Loads of lessies looking for a fuck without cruising public toilets,” the Mentalist seals the plan. “Good market. Flush with cash. I might buy a franchise. I might.”
“Have a wonderful day!” I call after him down the phone.
What I would like most of all is to make a heavy statement with my story, that they may attract attention world wide. I want to capture my online audience’s attention for as long as possible. So I wonder, am I? Am I bringing you a unique and personal story? Am I having an impact on your day?