Smiling cheerfully at Frederick, Eve checked her notes.
Frederick Frankenstein is not wild and crazy, stir-crazy, non compos mentis, or even slightly dicked in the head. No, Frederick is merely unhinged; perhaps he has a screw or two loose. He has a peculiar habit of eating goldfish. During sessions he's revealed acute feelings of inferiority that are complex in themselves. He often feels as if he isn't as electrifying as anyone else, which, after hearing of his creation, I find to be wrong in many aspects.
Some members of the ton thought Frederick to be a half-wit, because of his often slow speech, but Eve knew better. His wit had come from Lord Delbrook, and it was very whole indeed. Frederick's feet and legs had once been attached to a very large duke, Hans Holbrecht. His hands were those of an earl, and his aristocratic nose came from a German prince with the family name of Blucher. Unfortunately, the rest of Frederick was composed of criminals and the lower classes. But then, as Eve had learned in her cadaver class, the corpses of good men were hard to find.
The chair groaned as Frederick shifted his massive frame. He smiled apologetically, his lopsided expression stretching the tiny scars across his lower jaw.
"Dr. Eve, it's nice seeing you again," he managed to say, blushing a little.
His blush was nothing new to Eve, since she often had that effect on men, or saw them stuttering in her presence. Many women would have become vain about their beauty, but Eve was not most women. Very infrequently did she think about her appearance, and when she did, she often shrugged it off and went about her business.
Men were not so cavalier about it, however, for Eve was a lovely woman. She had thick wavy hair, of dark reddish gold, which she wore in a Psyche knot. Her eyes were the color of the rain-tossed seas of the tropics. Her face was heart-shaped, with prominent cheekbones, and she had a lush pink mouth with Cupid's-bow lips.
"It's nice to see you too, Frederick. How have you been feeling this week?" Eve returned Frederick's smile readily, feeling the warm glow of knowing that she was creating a trusting relationship between herself and her patient, which would help Frederick relax so he could delve into his fears. She jotted a quick note:
Be sure to have Frederick's chair reinforced. He must have put on some weight. Appetite healthy.
As she studied her patient's chart, she felt not only virtuous, but also a little victorious. Together she and Frederick were creating a new personality. This feeling of power must be what Dr. Victor had felt when he first beheld the monster, and ran around screaming, "It's alive, it's alive!"
The gentle giant sighed. "Sometimes all I want is a good bowl of soup and to listen to Vivaldi."
"Sometimes all I want is a good book, a brisk breeze blowing in my face, and a nice cup of Indian tea," Eve replied.
"Sometimes I wish I looked like everybody else—anybody else."
"Not everyone can look like Prince Charming," Eve reminded the monster, understanding that he felt less than perfectly put together. He did stand out in a crowd. After all, he was six-foot-eight, with stitches crisscrossing his face and a greenish cast to his skin. Unless you were a troll, that wasn't becoming.
"Who wants to look like an oversize frog?" he asked.
"Nonsense, Frederick Frankenstein! Never a frog," Eve said. She studied him speculatively, a faint smile on her face. "You're far too distinguished for that."
"Distinguished?" He sounded intrigued.
"Yes, distinguished. And you have lovely gray eyes. They are so expressive. You're fine as you are—a very healthy, strapping young man with a kind heart. But you need to come to that realization by yourself. You may be different, but vive la difference."
Frederick contemplated Dr. Eve's words. He desperately wanted to believe her, but life had taught him differently about being different. He was slow to words, slow to anger, and too large. Yet some part of him felt jubilant at this advice from such a wise, pretty woman. Smiling shyly at her, he couldn't keep from wondering about her absentee husband. Why would the man prefer to work with the insane in the Carpathian Mountains when he could be working with lunatics right here? There were certainly enough loons in London without treating foreign madmen. Maybe Dr. Adam Griffin was a bit of a slow-top himself. His logic was certainly faulty in leaving his wife alone. Frederick knew that if he had a wife like Dr. Eve, he'd never leave home without her.
"I don't know. 'Different' is good in birds, jackets, and ladies' gowns, but not people," he said.
"Rubbish! If everyone were the same, what a dull world we would live in. There would be no great discoveries, no stirring music or moving art…"
"But it's so hard at times, Dr. Eve. People always stare. It's not easy being green. I know you're trying to help me get a new lease on life, to help me feel like a new man… well, men. But I just feel… worn out."
"Rome wasn't built in a day," she stated firmly, hiding her sympathy for the big man. Pity would only undermine her work.
"What's Rome got to do with me? I've never been there."
She grinned. "Rome wasn't built in a day, oak trees don't grow overnight, and confidence isn't something we put on like a hat. You say you feel as if people are always staring at you—"
Frederick interrupted. "They are."
"Perhaps. But Frederick, embrace it when people stare. Give them that crooked grin, or dance a little jig like that time you danced at the Ritz. You are Frederick Frankenstein, beloved adopted son of the Frankensteins and cousin to Clare. Your brother-in-law is one of the highest-ranking werewolves in the world, while your aunt Mary is wed to a duke. Your connections are excellent. And inside, you are a kind, gentle man with lovely gray eyes who loves music and sees the good in people even when they aren't at their best. You are special, and you should always remember that."
Frederick blushed and stammered, "Th-thank you, Dr. Eve. It's just that sometimes I want what everyone else has. I want to wa-walk into a ball and have the ladies sigh at me, to want to dance with me. I want to dance with them like a swan, without stepping on their feet."
His words were opening doors in Eve's mind. Frederick was upset about something that had happened this week, most likely at a ball. Again she wrote on her notepad with her quilled pen.
Patient much less animated today than he was last week, and definitely feeling melancholy.
"Speaking of balls, have you been to any this past week?" she asked.
Nodding slowly, his big head bobbing, Frederick explained in a voice filled with regret, "I went to the Graus' ball."
"And?" Open-ended questions were important in a session. They made a patient expound about events or people which sometimes were what had made the patient feel depressed in the first, second, and third place.
"Uh, well, I guess I was introduced to a Miss Beal."
The way Frederick said the name alerted Eve immediately: a female was involved in Frederick's latest case of nerves and melancholy. "Did you find her… pretty?"
Frederick blushed and ducked his head. "She has puppy-dog eyes, and you know how I like puppies. Her hair is black, with a small white streak, and it's quite tall."
"She's tall?"
"No, her hair. And it's kind of fuzzy, like a lamb's. I like lambs too. And she has a funny smile."
It appeared that Frederick had a slight infatuation with this Miss Beal. Eve hoped the young lady would return his interest. Aside from all the medical strides of the new decade, it was a fundamental truth that a good woman could do great things for a man's confidence.