Don’t Fear the Freudians
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“I should exit Hartford forever, I think. Or maybe not?”
“It’s healthy to think pros and cons about what your next move should be,” I said. “Draw it out, write it all down like your father might.”
“The anxiety in front of me outweighs what’s behind me, so perhaps I’ll just hibernate like a Grizzly,” Jillian said. “Or stick my head in the sand like a neurotic, balding ostrich.” 
“You would make a spectacular film director, I think,” I said. 
“First, I want to thank the Academy,” she said, curtsying. “And all my shrinks in Hartford and Corpus Christi who’ve heard me bitch and whine forever.”
“Bravo!” I said, presenting her with the Emmy.
“Dr. Legg wanted to hold on to me forever, and that wasn’t fair, was it?” Jillian asked.
“No,” I said. 

“Is this interview going to be on the show next week?” she asked.
“You’re an addictive young woman to study, Jillian,” I said. “Which means yes, absolutely, you’ll be the top story.”
“I’d hate to lose a paycheck if Legg dies, though.”
“I thought you were pondering leaving?” I asked.
“I’m pacing myself,” she said. “Baby steps and all that business.”
“We all need to behave prudently, with a great deal of wisdom,” I said.
“And use a lot of condoms,” she said. 
“Amen,” I said. “Now you’re talking truth, my friend.”