Page 39 - WTP Vol.X #8

him hug his daughter. Over six feet tall, he was a handsome man dressed in designer jeans, a light weight jacket over a charcoal grey shirt and a pair
of expensive Raybans. His lush black hair was as thick as a St. Bernard’s coat and made Nini wish that she hadn’t stopped coloring her own. “Doctor,” he said, pocketing his sunglasses and striding into the room. He stuck out his hand. “At last we meet.” His fingers were long and slender, made for the piano, or prestidigitation, she reminded herself. He took her hand in both of his and held on to it. “Livy neglected to tell me that you were beautiful as well as smart.”
“Have a seat, Mr. Weinberg,” Nini said, untangling her hand from his.
“Beautiful shoes. A woman of taste.”
“Daddy, sit.” Livy pointed to the chair beside her.
“First of all, thank you for coming,” Nini said, her voice strong and clear.
“No problem. I’d do anything for my daughter.” He smiled at Livy.
“Livy, how would you like to begin?” Nini asked. But Livy, who managed to eke out a few extra minutes of talk at the end of every session, was busy poking around in her backpack.
“Mr. Weinberg, your daughter asked you to come because she thought you could be helpful to her.”
”I just want to ask you a few questions, Daddy. About my childhood.”
“Of course, Liv. Anything you want. But before she takes over, Doctor, how are you? Livy’s savior. I’m delighted she’s found someone to help her, although I had no idea she needed help. As far as I’m concerned, she’s perfect just as she is.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Daddy.” Livy blushed. “No one’s perfect. And we both know I’m a mess when it comes to men.”
“Honey, you just haven’t found the right one yet. When you do, you’ll be fine. The guy who gets my little girl will win the jackpot.”
“Well, I’ve met someone I like and I don’t want to screw it up. That’s why you’re here.”
“That’s great, sweetie. Who is he?”
“We’re not here to talk about Livy’s boyfriend, Mr. Weinberg. Why don’t you start, Livy?”
Livy turned sideways in her seat and faced her father. “Remember when I was your assistant? And I had to wear that black mini skirt with the see-through...”
“Of course I do,” Mr. Weinberg interrupted. “You looked spectacular.” He looked at Nini. “She’s a terrific magician. Almost as good as me. We’re a magnificent duo.”
“So I’ve heard. But Livy is asking you about the clothes she had to wear.”
“Well, I think you should hear from her father that she’s good.”
Livy snapped her middle finger and stared out the window.
“Let me be blunt, Mr. Weinberg. We’re here because your daughter wants to talk to you about you. Not magic.”
“And I want to hear what she has to say.” He reached over and squeezed Livy’s knee. “You do like magic, don’t you doctor? I’m confident a daughter of mine would never see a therapist who didn’t. Rest assured, I’m not speaking solely about the tricks of the trade but the slippery, magical world.” He opened his arms wide. “The things we can’t explain no matter how hard we try. God. The Great Beyond. Dark matter. The Fermi paradox.” He winked. “The power of a beautiful woman. Even your cherished therapy. There must be some magic in therapy, isn’t that true, Liv? It’s not all Freud and Jung, pills and neurotransmitters. Doesn’t love have something to do with it?”
“Stop, Mr. Weinberg.” Nini held up her hand. “You
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