part 12 {lib}

“I’m sure it’s very difficult,” Mrs. Zangler sympathized. “But we need to find some ways to help you let go.”
“But I—don’t—want—to,” Mr. Blumbergen wailed.
Mrs. Zangler tried a different tack. “How do you feel when you think about Charlie?”
“Horrible,” Mr. Blumbergen answered, calming down. “Just horrible.”
“But Charlie loved you, didn’t he?” she continued.
“Of course. Ever since I brought him here from the Billabong twenty-three years ago. He was so attached to me.”
“Well, Charlie would certainly want you to stop crying and missing him, then. He would want you to be happy and go on with your life, don’t you think?” Mrs. Zangler went on.
“I guess so,” Mr. Blumbergen replied, doubtfully.
“I have a partial solution for you, Mr. Blumbergen. I think you should take this lizard home with you,” Mrs. Zangler told him, pulling a small glass jar from her purse. Inside was a rainbow-striped rubber lizard. “What do you think of this, Mr. Blumbergen?” Mrs. Zangler asked. The man peered through the glass at the obnoxiously colored rubber toy.
“It’s very nice,” he said, with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
“How would you like to take this lizard home with you until next week? You could consider him a kind of substitute for Charlie,” Mrs. Zangler went on. Mr. Blumbergen bit his lip.
“Nothing can replace Charlie,” he said firmly, but his eyes were watering a little, Eliana thought.
“Certainly not!” Mrs. Zangler answered indignantly. “But we can enjoy other things, along with the memory of Charlie, can’t we?”
“I suppose,” Mr. Blumbergen sniffed.
“Good, good. Now you just take him home with you and treat him the same way you treated Charlie when he was alive. Come back next week and we’ll see how things are going, all right?”
“All right,” Mr. Blumbergen agreed, dabbing his eyes with a large white hankie.
“You have a nice day now,” Mrs. Zangler said, handing him the jar. Mr. Blumbergen took it, opened the door, and walked out, mumbling in reply to Eliana’s farewell.
Mrs. Zangler sighed, wrote some things on her clipboard, and turned to Eliana.
“Well, dear, you can see that this isn’t always the easiest job. Mr. Blumbergen has been coming here for the past few months, as Charlie was getting older. And then Charlie finally died, and he’s been such a wreck. To be honest, this is the best I’ve seen him since that day.” Sighing again, Mrs. Zangler removed the straw hat she had been wearing. “Let’s see, who’s next … Ah, Miss de Viliano. She’s such a lovely lady; I think you’ll enjoy her very much. I should inform you, though, that she has something of an obsession with plants, jungles, forests, and all things related. She should be here any minute.”
“This is fascinating,” Eliana answered. “I had no idea that people had such … well, weird problems.”
“Yes, well, we get all kinds,” Mrs. Zangler answered. A buzzer sounded on her monitor. She pressed a button and said, “Yes, Gertie?” The receptionist’s voice came through.
“Miss de Viliano is here, Doctor,” said Gertie.
“Thank you, please send her in,” Mrs. Zangler answered. A few moments later, the door opened and a tall, dark-haired woman entered. Eliana was at once struck by the imposing air of the lady, as well as her somewhat absurd outfit. Miss de Viliano was dressed in a coat that strongly resembled the old carpetbag Eliana had seen in her grandmother’s attic. Her skirt was an iguana green pattern of vines, with monkeys, chameleons, and caterpillars interspersed. Her stockings were white with pine trees and her shoes were six inch heels with beaded leaves. To crown it all, on her dark nest of hair was a forest green plush hat with enormous red flowers sewn on it.
“Hello, Bernice,” Mrs. Zangler said, extending her hand. Miss de Viliano took it and smiled widely.
“Delighted to see you, Doctor,” she replied, her voice deep and elegant. “I saw the most delightful Poculius bush outside your office, I had no idea that you knew the species!”
Mrs. Zangler seemed surprised. “Indeed, I did not know there was such a marvelous specimen in our flower beds! You must show it to me!”
“Do you like Poculious bushes?” Miss de Viliano asked, turning to Eliana.
“Er, I don’t know,” Eliana answered honestly. “I’ve never seen one.”
“Bernice de Viliano III,” the woman said, extending her hand. Eliana shook it, noticing that her nails were painted bright orange with green vines.
“Eliana Vostras. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m simply delighted, Miss Vostras. Or can I call you Eliana? That’s so much nicer, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course,” Eliana answered politely.
“Splendid, splendid! And you must call me Bernice. I know we shall be wonderful friends,” she paused. “That is, unless you like the prehistoric species deciduous Algamonicus Venti.”
“The wha--” Eliana began.
“The prehistoric species deciduous Algamonicus Venti. I have a particular aversion to that plant, and I really couldn’t be in your company if you liked it. But I’m sure you don’t. Do you?”

As Lauren Myracle (another random person I dug up) profoundly states, "You should eat a waffle! You can't be sad if you eat a waffle!" I could not agree more. What a profound truth.