Wedding Games

Cindy

After an exhaustive series of blood tests, urinalysis, chest x-rays, a ECG, body composition analysis and even a CT scan, Dr. Ramsurrun sends me on my way to the psychologist’s office on the other side of the building. 

The plaque above the door says “Dr. David A. Hepworth, MPsych, MSc” - so I’m expecting a male therapist. To my surprise, the doctor waiting for me is a tall, beautiful, elegantly-dressed older woman. Every aspect of her appearance is immaculate - from her perfect makeup and platinum blonde hair styled into a severe but timeless bob, to her chic cream pantsuit and beige designer high heels. She looks to be in her late forties or early fifties, but it’s hard to tell - there’s a slightly frozen look to her face which suggests years of botox and fillers. Most startling of all is her eyes - a striking shade of bright, spring bud green. 

She rises to greet me, smiling as I enter the office and gesturing for me to sit on the plush white upholstered armchair opposite her own.

“Valerie, is it?” She says, casting her eyes over me with obvious curiosity. “Lovely to meet you, finally. I’m Cindy.”

“Uh… hi…” I murmur, shifting uncomfortably in the armchair.

“You’re probably wondering why the Winsworth Interactive Corporation is doing such...” she pauses here, as if looking for the right word “... extensive testing for this role.”

I nod, relieved that I might finally get some real answers.

She smiles as much as her botox-frozen face will allow her to, then does something completely unexpected.

She leans forward and takes my hands in her own.

“You are special,” she says breathlessly, her bright green eyes gazing into my own. “More special than you know, Valerie Sybil Greene.”

I cringe at the sound of my hated middle name - the first name of my grandmother on my mother’s side, a cruel and nasty woman who throughout my childhood made me dread the annual trips up to her house in Seattle for Christmas and Thanksgiving celebrations.

“You see Valerie… we are highly selective about who we choose to join our company,” Cindy says, her eyes searching my own. “Only the cream of the crop may be permitted into our exclusive clan. As such, we need to be certain you are suitable. You seem to be a perfect fit in terms of temperament, values and personality, and your test scores show that you are highly intelligent and adaptable, both very important if you are to thrive in our organisation.”

I nod, wishing that she’d get to the point. Almost without thinking, I use my index finger to push the delicate gold framed glasses back on the bridge of my nose - a nervous tic when I am stressed or feeling nervous.

“Do you always wear those?” Cindy asks, her eyes sparkling with interest.

“Yes,” I answer. “I need them to see, unfortunately. I’m shortsighted.”

“But you have such pretty eyes,” Cindy says, her voice taking on almost “cooing” quality, like she’s oohing and ahhing over the cuteness of a baby or a small puppy. “May I see?”

She gestures for me to remove the glasses, and I comply, lifting them for a few seconds and staring forward at the now-blurry figure seated before me. 

“Oh! They’re hazel, how lovely,” she sighs, as I drop my glasses and she comes back into focus. “You have exquisite eyes. It’s such a pity keeping them hidden like that.”

“I tried contacts a few years back, but they made my eyes itch,” I admit.

“That’ll be because you were using an inferior brand,” Cindy says confidently. “We’ll get that sorted for you. I probably shouldn’t be sharing this with you…”

She smiles mischievously, leaning forward in her chair as if to share a juicy secret.

“You’ve heard that the Winsworth Interactive Company has recently acquired several large virtual reality and nanotech firms, correct?” She asks me, to which I nod in response.

“Well, one of our next major projects is a model of superior advanced high-tech contact lenses,” she says, her voice confiding and slightly boastful. “Not only will they correct the vision of people with unfortunate eyesight afflictions such as your own - they will allow the user to view a virtual overlay as they interact with the world, dramatically altering their experience of reality. Perhaps, if you are lucky enough to be invited into our company, you’ll be one of our beta testers.”

I’m not sure that’s something I’d actually want, but I’m not about to say anything that might lose me a shot at this job - so I just force a smile and nod.

“Now, let’s get on with the Q & A portion of this interview,” Cindy says. “What is your earliest childhood memory that you can recall?”

That’s a strange question, but I guess I should be used to it by now.

I think for a moment, scouring my memory until I’ve found it.

“I think... picking a pumpkin at the pumpkin patch for Halloween when I was three,” I say, recalling the magical night with fondness. “My dad took me there every year, up until the-”

I pause in mid-sentence, not wanting to continue.

“...up until the divorce,” Cindy completes my sentence for me. “Tell me about that. It must have been difficult for you. How did you cope?”

“I guess I just… I don’t know, I had no choice but to deal with it, you know?” I say, squirming uncomfortably in my seat. “I mean, it’s not like there was anything I could do. I was just a kid.”

“Has it affected your views on marriage, monogamy and the prospect of long-term commitment?” She asks.

“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly, and Cindy frowns slightly at this, unable to hide the flicker of disappointment and disapproval in her eyes.

That was clearly the wrong answer. Dammit. I need to fix this.

“But, I believe in marriage, and true love and soul mates and all of that other stuff, obviously,” I lie, watching her face relax into a relieved smile as I speak. “I think my parents’ divorce just showed me the importance of open communication in a marriage. They never learned to really listen to each other. To learn from each other, to compromise and work as a team.”

“Wiser words were never spoken,” Cindy says, with a beaming smile of approval. “Well, I’ve heard all I need to, so that concludes our interview. It was lovely meeting you.”

She literally only asked me two questions though. Three, if you count the one about why I wear glasses. Oh well, I should be grateful the interview was mercifully short.

“Thanks, Cindy,” I murmur, not sure what else to say.

“No, thank you, Valerie,” she says with a smile as I leave her office. "We’ll be in touch."