Paul Mauriat: In America's Elections, "Love Is Blue" Takes on a Whole New Meaning

 

A Little Bit Off

Dr. Esther Villalobos hoped that the downpour outside would be sufficient in calming down her next patient. If not that, then the pictures of fluffy felines mounted on her walls. And if not that, then the musty smell of old books sitting on her shelves. Then again, perhaps the little things about her cozy office were just that: little. She knew full well that she had to be as delicate as possible when handling her newest client.

She remembered watching the media circus unfold on TV like it was yesterday. Every news anchor seemed to have an obsessive fixation on the demonic serial killer Lucy Butler. How she seduced and brainwashed her brilliant-minded abductees into believing their own mediocrity. How she played “Love Is Blue” by Paul Mauriat over and over again to drive that point home.

But the biggest thing that made Esther squirm in her chair all those days ago was how the media and subsequent viewers sexualized the hell out of Lucy Butler, whether it was her natural beauty, her alluring methods, or just because hybristophilia was still a thing in this day and age. People said the exact same things about Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer, so maybe it shouldn’t have come as a big surprise. Still, Esther shivered at the thought of romanticizing such a brutal killer.

“I could definitely use a cigarette right now,” said Esther to nobody in particular as she sat in her swivel chair tapping her foot.

The nicotine would have to wait a little longer. There was a halfhearted knock on her door and she said, “Come in”, which the visitor did. Sure enough, the centerpiece of these Lucy Butler stories, Landon Bryce, skulked through the office door looking like hell. His blondish brown hair looked like it hadn’t been combed since god knows when. His Linkin Park T-shirt and blue jeans were covered in what looked like corn chip dust. Hopefully, that wasn’t all he was eating lately, but Esther wasn’t banking on any other answers. After all, the life in his once pretty eyes had been completely drained and his face sagged to show off his lack of zest for life.

Landon’s most noticeable feature, however, was the bruises and cuts all over his bony hands. Esther was no detective, but she had to assume those bloody scrapes had something to do with him getting in fights as recently as a few days ago. He didn’t seem to notice his own damage as he just stood in the doorway shivering lightly and staring at nothing like the zombie he was.

“Good morning,” said Esther in a soft, benign voice that didn’t betray the fact that she was a smoker. “You must be Landon. I’m Dr. Esther Villalobos. Please, make yourself at home. There’s a seat on the leather couch with your name on it.” He was in no hurry to lay down on the couch, but once he did, he found the comfort he needed to take deep breaths in an attempt to calm whatever chaos was going on his mind. He still trembled, though. “Before we begin, do you want some Vaseline for your hands? They look like they could use some TLC.”

“Huh?” Landon just now noticed the scars on his hand and languidly answered, “Sure, okay.”

Esther pulled a bottle of Vaseline out of her desk drawers and squirted a few drops into her patient’s palms. Landon hissed in pain as he rubbed the grease all over his wounds, but by the time he was finished massaging his hands, they already looked a little bit better than they did before. Any improvement was a victory in Esther’s mind.

As Landon laid on the couch allowing his anxiety to wash over him, Esther sat in her swivel chair with a clipboard in her lap and a look of concern on her middle-aged face. Her black hair showed a few streaks of white and her sweater and slacks attire showed off her advanced age even more, which hopefully translated into wisdom for Landon and therefore into somebody he could trust with his woes.

Esther adjusted her thin-rimmed glasses. “So, Landon…we talked on the phone before we made this appointment official. We bounced ideas back and forth about what we wanted to discuss. From what I can tell, you have no desire to relive your captivity, so that’s not a topic I’m going to dig too deeply into. Besides, anybody within the sound of the media’s voice knows everything they need to know about Lucy Butler’s disgusting behavior. I’m more interested in what life has been like after Agent Frank Black rescued you and the other boys. So…I guess my first question to you is…how are you feeling right now? Take as much time as you need to answer that question. Go into as much or as little detail as you’d like. This is your session, Landon. You make the rules.”

Silence hung between them with the exception of Landon’s deep breathing exercises, though comforting to anybody else, seemed to have very little effect in steadying his nerves. He had been through a lot, it seemed. “Well, Esther, I don’t think anybody really cares how I’m feeling right now…But to answer your question…I’m exhausted…I’m tired of fighting my own mind…But I know that if I fall asleep…I’m just going to have another nightmare about that woman…Every time she kissed me…Every time she felt me up…The same goddamn song over and over again…”

He sniffed a few times in between sentences and wiped a small tear from his eye before continuing. “You know…I haven’t told anybody this…But since we’re in therapy…Sometimes…after a really bad nightmare…where she gets to do whatever she wants with me…I lock the door to my bedroom…draw the curtains…take my pants off…and…and…” He wiped another tear from his eye.

Esther filled in the blanks of his statement right away and nodded. “I see.” She wrote down on her clipboard that in addition to PTSD, he appeared to be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, hence the masturbation.

He continued. “I know I shouldn’t be doing that to her…I hated being in her company…Every time I do it…I hate myself for it…I keep wondering…if the ceiling fan above my room will be enough to support my weight…”

“Landon…listen to me. I know suicide sounds tempting, but it’s not the solution to your problems. You came here today because you wanted relief from it all. You secretly want to live again. There’s not much life in your eyes right now…but I can see just enough that you care deeply about your recovery. Please reconsider.”

“I sometimes wish the kids and teachers at my school would feel the same way…When I was rescued…I went straight back to that…school…if you can call it that…I wasn’t ready…I never was…but I didn’t speak up…I was expected to just soldier on like nothing happened…I wasn’t allowed to ask the world to slow down for me…And right off the bat…everybody noticed…Everybody knew…and they teased me for it…Called me every homophobic slur in the book…said I should have liked being with such a sexy woman…”

“As if being beautiful excuses her appalling actions.”

“Exactly…You know…sometimes…I wish I was ugly…I wish I had a face full of pimples…a three hundred pound beer gut…not a hair on my head…That way…nobody would try to seduce me again…Nobody would tell me they loved me without really meaning it…”

“Landon, I’m going to stop you right there for a moment. There’s something you need to know about that.” Esther sighed and removed her glasses. “How attractive you are has nothing to do with whether or not you were molested. Do you understand? Seduction is just one of thousands of ways in which someone can hurt you. If someone wants to hurt you badly enough, they’ll find a way to do it. It’s not you…it’s them.”

Landon sniffled again. “Try telling that to my ex-girlfriend.”

“You had a girlfriend?”

“I’m not sure I’d call her that, but…after I was rescued…we went on one date together…When she asked me out…I was having a particularly shitty day…I leaned against my locker at school just waiting for the waterworks to come out…She could have greeted me any way she wanted to…She could have said hi…She could have smiled at me…You know what she did?...She ran her nails down my back…On one hand it felt like a nice massage…On the other…it reminded me too much of Lucy…and…I ended up saying yes to her….Like I had something to prove to all of my bullies…Like I wanted to dispel all of those times someone called me a faggot or a queer…She said she liked me for my…’experience’…I was disgusted with her saying that…and I said yes to her anyways…”

Esther took more notes on her clipboard after putting her glasses back on. “How did your date go?”

“About as well as you’d expect it to…I was all numbed out…I couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying…or what the plot of the movie was…Hell, I couldn’t even concentrate in school…That’s why my grades look like shit…I couldn’t even tell if me and my girl had a good time…But when it was over…and she tried to kiss me goodnight…I freaked out…Her lips…they tasted like Lucy’s…All of the sudden…I wasn’t seeing a blond sweetheart anymore…I saw Lucy…I ran away from her screaming…”

“She doesn’t sound like a very considerate girlfriend to me.”

“That’s why we never saw each other again…But at school…the gay slurs…the rape jokes…the pushes…the shoves…they started getting worse…I was constantly throwing up in the bathroom…I was crying my eyes out when nobody would see me…I would sometimes try to leave school on my own…But it was never enough…You want to know why I have scars on my hands?...Because one day…after one of those kids caught me crying…they laughed at me…and laughed…and laughed…so I did the one thing I knew would get me kicked out of school forever…I beat their asses…I punched them so hard their noses broke…their teeth crunched…I kneed them in the balls…kicked them in the ribs…I just kept seeing red…and it was glorious…It gave me the relief I needed…So beautiful…” He punctuated that last line with a smile, giving Esther her own form of anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

“Landon, I’m going to stop you right there for now. You look like you need to stop as well.” Esther took her glasses off again and folded her hands in her lap. “You sound like you’re going through some heavy mental trauma. The lack of concentration, the nightmares, the vomiting, the lack of eating…you can’t live like this any longer. Something has to be done about it. I’m not going to lie to you, Landon. The road to recovery is going to be a long one. It’s going to be tiring. And it’s also going to depend on how far you’re willing to go to achieve your healing. Tell me, Landon…” She leaned in closer. “What are you willing to do to make this pain go away?”

The tears came more frequently and Landon gave up on trying to stop them. “Anything…anything at all…”

“Anything?”

“Yes, damn it, anything!”

“Good…because what I’m about to suggest to you…is so illegal…that you can’t tell anybody about it. You can only do it while you’re in my office. If I get caught administering this to you, I could not only go to jail, but I’d never be able to practice medicine again, which you in turn won’t find your healing. Are you ready?”

“I’m sick of crying all the time…I want to eat food that doesn’t taste like my kidnapper…You’re damn right I’m ready…”

Esther pulled a key out of her pocket and unlocked a bottom drawer before pulling out a vaping pen and handing it to Landon.

“Is this what I think it is?...You want me to smoke marijuana?...I can’t…No, I can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because…I was already in one prison when Lucy kidnapped me…I don’t need to go to another for smoking pot…”

Esther leaned in closer. “Landon…you said you would do anything for relief. You’re not going to find that relief in Xanax or Sertraline. Marijuana has no side effects. It’s not a codependency. It actually does its job in a quick amount of time. Landon, you’re already in a prison. You’re a prisoner of your own mind. And that vaping pen? That’s the key to your cell.”

“Pfft…Yeah right…”

Esther shook her head. “What happened to you, Landon? Before you were kidnapped and molested, you raged against the machine. You told your teachers to shove those C+’s up their asses. Where’s that rebellious spirit?”

“It’s gone, Esther. Every time I rebel against the system, somebody gets hurt.”

“Doing nothing will get even more people hurt.”

“Maybe Lucy was right all along. Maybe mediocrity is all I’ve got left. Maybe those C+’s on my report card…”

“Enough!” Esther interrupted. “Those C+’s and D-‘s? They’re just letters on a piece of paper, no different from the other letters. They don’t determine your self worth. Demonic serial killers with a fetish for bad music don’t determine your self worth either. You do. You know you weren’t destined for a boring life. You know deep in your heart you want to save the world. The more you fight your rebellious urges, the stronger they become. You may not know it right now, but the world needs your voice.”

“Tell that to the bullies at my…”

“I’m telling you!” Esther snapped. After watching Landon jump out of his skin, she apologized and fixed her own clothing. “Landon…Lucy Butler doesn’t love you…and those kids at school? They don’t matter. You do. Only you get to define what love means to you. Kidnapping someone and sexually torturing someone isn’t love. Love is free and kind, not forceful and toxic. You know this in your heart. You still have a heart after all this time. That’s why you’re here, to help yourself realize it. Please, Landon…you are taking a big risk by smoking that pen…but no amount of greatness comes without danger…You…were destined for greatness…”

Judging from the singular tear drops running down Landon’s face, Esther had hope that she had gotten through to him. And then…he took a puff of the pen. But when he blew out the vapors, he coughed like he was losing a lung. Esther said, “Sorry. Takes some getting used to.”

But once the coughing was over, so was the trembling. The tears on his cheeks were replaced by gentle redness. His once glassy eyes were closed. His breathing was slow and relaxed instead of labored and intensive. He seemed to sink to the leather couch in an attempt to fall asleep and hopefully have a dream about something other than molestation.

Esther smiled. “I’m not going to ask you how you’re doing, Landon. I already have the answer.”

“I’m in a lot of trouble, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Pfft…Who gives a shit?”

“My next patient won’t be here for a long time. You can take a quick nap if you’d like. I won’t mind.”

Landon was already one step ahead of her, breathing gently and allowing his head to roll over in relaxation. If he did give a response, it was jumbled and incoherent. Esther patted him on the head before sneaking out of her office and shushing her secretary.

By the time Esther went outside, the downpour had stopped and the sun was out. But for how long? Long enough for Esther to finally smoke that cigarette she earned. She pulled out a Camel and lit it with a match before taking a few drags. Like Landon with his vaping pen, Esther too relaxed as she leaned against the brick building. But at the same time, she looked at her cigarette with mild disgust.

“Don’t ever smoke these, Landon. We need that voice of yours to be as loud as possible…”

Schizophrenic Playboy

RJ Redmond folded his arms and curled into his seat as an army of screaming wrestling fans polluted the air with their fried chicken breath, open bottles of beer, and overly-buttered popcorn. Was being in the front row really worth it? Was being in the nosebleed section really worse when there was a video monitor hanging over the ring?

RJ breathed deeply in an attempt to quiet his schizophrenic mind, always racing with wild thoughts the more these fans screamed. It didn’t help matters that the Jabba the Hutt look-alike sitting next to him grabbed RJ by the sleeve of his System of a Down T-shirt and shook him. The piggish wrestling fan also ruffled Mr. Redmond’s spiky green hair. RJ could do nothing but sigh and ride out this wave of testosterone.

The ringside announcer in a tux belted into a microphone, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the ring: ‘The Nation of Temptation’ Luna Kat!” Every drunken male in the crowd came to life and quite possibly came in their pants at the announcement. RJ shrunk in his chair and sighed again. Calm down, it’s just a stupid fucking woman, he thought to himself. He ignored his own mental command as did everyone else in the arena.

With a hard rock remix of “Love Is Blue” by Paul Mauriat blasting over the speakers, the aptly named Nation of Temptation strutted down the aisle swinging her hips from side to side. As part of her sexy gimmick, she came to the ring wearing a black leather bra, a black leather thong, and fishnet stockings. Her pale white skin, long red hair, and puffy blue lips also did their job in getting the horny male crowd to go berserk. Isn’t she supposed to be a heel?, thought RJ.

Luna did the splits on the ring apron and then wormed her torso underneath the bottom rope. The fans’ screams really set off fireworks in RJ Redmond’s mind. Why am I even here? I should just get up and go, he said to nobody in particular. He failed to heed his own advice by the time Luna picked up a microphone and licked it to get some extra crowd attention.

The music died down and Luna smiled seductively at her audience, which did nothing in getting them to shut up. In fact, they chanted her name over and over again despite the fact that RJ himself said she was a heel, or villain in plain English. Luna couldn’t hold the microphone to her lips without being whistled and catcalled by the audience. She held her land to her mouth and smiled, selling it like the champ she wanted to be.

“Okay, boys, settle down,” she said in her sweetest voice, which surprisingly worked. “I came here tonight for a one-on-one match. But to be honest, it probably won’t last five minutes. Or two. Or even ten seconds. My opponent tonight is a lot like all of you: lazy, out of shape, and probably eating government cheese with a plastic spork.” That got a boo from the entire arena, RJ included. “In fact, just to show you all how easy this is going to be, I’m going to need a volunteer.”

Oh dear god, why did she have to say that? I fucking hate these sacks of protoplasm around me, RJ thought. He had every right to say those words as the crowd roared to life once again, every horny male pointing at themselves and screaming to be chosen.

Luna giggled as she scoped the audience. RJ was secretly grateful that her pretty jade eyes scanned the upper tiers first. She shook her head and wagged her finger in disgust as she moved to the middle tier. And then…the front row. She tapped her chin in contemplation and finally found the one man she’d love to make an example out of. “You!” she said in a low, steamy voice while pointing at RJ.

His insides locked up on him while his skin vibrated in absolute crippling fear. He shook even harder when obnoxious fans pointed at him and messed with his hair again.

“Come on, don’t be shy, love bug,” said Luna as she sat on the middle rope with her thong-wearing butt pointed directly at him.

RJ’s blood turned cold and sweat glistened off of his goose bumps while rowdy fans chanted, “Don’t be shy!” over and over again. With one last wave of her hand, Luna invited RJ into the ring. One leg over the barricade and he nearly stumbled onto the floor, which earned a chuckle from everyone around him. At this point he was convulsing with terror as he slowly made his way up the stairs and into the ring. The crowd laughed again when he entered through the side that Luna wasn’t sitting on. She laughed too and shook her head before wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” asked Luna before holding the microphone to her mark’s mouth. His lips quivered and the crowd laughed at him even more. “You speak English, honey?”

“…R…RJ. My name is RJ.”

“Give it up for RJ, everyone!” said Luna while clapping her hands. The crowd booed at her new boy toy, causing him to shrink inside of himself again. “So RJ, you’ve seen the show before, I’m sure. Do you know how this goes by now?” No answer, just trembles and stuttering, which earned even more boos from the audience. “Come on now, guys, be nice. He’s obviously proving my point as to how easy of a match I’ve got coming up. I’d be nervous around me too if I was a lonely, sweet little virgin. This isn’t a Magic: the Gathering tournament, honey. If you’ve got something to say to me, say it.”

The sea of laughter that swallowed RJ Redmond whole sent his panicked mind into overdrive. First the fans laughed…then his head voices laughed…then the fans called him vulgar names…then his head voices called him vulgar names. RJ’s knees got so weak that he crumpled to the ground to the amusement of others. On his hands and knees, his high anxiety morphed into schizophrenic anger. His mental illness often led him to be Incredible Hulk levels of angry at little things. But the big things in life…

“I can’t fucking take it anymore!” RJ shouted as he began pummeling the canvas with his fists. He shrieked and foamed at the mouth while raking his nails across the ring. Pounding. Raking. Pounding. Raking. All of his psychotic energy concentrated on the spot next to Luna Kat’s feet. She soon backed up from that spot in fear and threw her arms in the air in the shape of an X.

RJ’s strikes and claws grew so intense that he managed to pull out pieces of the canvas along with pieces of his fingernails. He didn’t care that his fingertips bled. In his racing mind, everybody in this arena should have been on the receiving end of his fury, not the mat. More energy was expended. And more. And more. When his tank was quickly emptying, the fans booing gave him more energy to work with. And then…his arms and legs ached with lactic acid buildup. His breathing intensified. And in his ultimate low, he dropped his forehead on the ground and bawled his eyes out in front of this hostile crowd.

He didn’t notice paramedics helping him to his feet. He didn’t notice Luna Kat breaking the code of fiction known as kayfabe to show concern for something that was essentially her fault. His mind was too destroyed to notice the crowd still mocking him with hateful chants. Or were they mocking Luna? Who gives a fuck, it’s never really over, he thought to himself.

RJ had been wide awake throughout this whole disaster, this shit show in a fuck factory, but when his mind calmed down for just a few seconds, he found himself laying on his back on a padded doctor’s bench in the trainer’s room. His body ached worse than any wrestler who worked a match that night. He felt like he had been body slammed off of a skyscraper. His legs felt like they were twisted off and sewn back on Frankenstein-style. His arms hung off the bench like wet beach towels. He kept repeating to himself in an exhausted raspy voice, “I’m so angry…I’m so angry…I’m so angry…”

The face that came into his blurry view wasn’t that of a villainous wrestler. The raised eyebrows and sorrowful frown painted a picture of concern and genuine heartbreak. RJ thought he was hallucinating again when he saw Luna Kat’s face, but she held his hand and there was no mistaking it anymore. Still, he repeated the silent, tearful phrase, “I’m so angry…I’m so angry…I’m so angry….”

“I know you are…and I’m sorry about what happened to you,” whispered Luna uncharacteristically. “I feel awful right now. I took my role too far. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I’m so angry…I’m so angry…I’m so angry…” RJ squeezed Luna’s hand for extra effect, but she only gave a minor wince of pain.

“You have every right to be angry, RJ,” she said while petting his shoulder. “Your ride to the hospital is going to be here any minute now. I just…thought I should let you know how sorry we are about the whole thing. You’re probably not in the mood to accept apologies right now, but…I thought I’d put that out there…”

“I’m not angry at you, Luna…I’m angry at those fat bastards out there who think my suffering is funny…It’s like…they’ve never seen a schizophrenic before…”

Kat’s face sank as her eyes got a little dewy. “I honestly didn’t know you were mentally disabled. I thought you were just shy…I’ve always liked being around shy guys, but…not like this…I’m so sorry, RJ…I really am…”

“Nobody knows I’m schizophrenic. They know there’s something wrong with me, but they probably didn’t guess that until tonight…” RJ sniffed and wiped away a single tear with his weak hand.

“Look, if you want a refund for your ticket, you can…”

“I don’t need a fucking refund…getting my money back isn’t going to mean much to me…it’s not even my money…it’s the government’s. If you wanted to do me a favor…nah, I shouldn’t ask….”

A sad smile formed on Luna’s face. “What do you mean you shouldn’t ask? Is it something…you know…derogatory?”

“No…it’s not…at least I hope it’s not…”

“Well, what is it?”

Swallowing a peach-sized lump in his throat, RJ asked in a slow and jittery voice, “Would it be alright with you…if I…if I…rested my head on your lap until the ambulance gets here? You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to. I promise…I won’t be pervy or anything, but…”

Luna shushed him and placed a finger on his drooling lips before wiping some of it away. “Of course you can. No problem. It’s hardly the worst thing someone’s asked me to do for them.” She smiled and sat on the padded bench, cradling RJ’s head on her lap and playing with his hair.

“Thank you…you…have no idea how much…this means to me…especially after tonight…I’m not trying to hit on you or anything, but…”

“It’s okay…I swear it’s okay,” whispered Luna. For the next few seconds, this was how they sat together. RJ would have smiled at this moment, but he was too weak to even curl his lips. So instead, Luna continued the conversation with, “You know…there’s already talk amongst the wrestling journalists. If it’s any comfort to you, what happened out there is being considered for a Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic award from the Wrestling Observer Newsletter. I know you smarks like to read that stuff.”

“Yeah…and WWE’s like, ‘Hold my beer. We’re going to Saudi Arabia.’”

Luna laughed. For the first time that evening, RJ allowed himself to laugh too. It wasn’t a hearty one, but it was a good start.