Valerie -Victim or virtuous?

Valerie's a skinny violinist with long fingers and a short neck. She plays various studio gigs, most at Warner Brother's studio in Burbank, most for the same composer and conductor, mostly with the same musicians, and most often in the late evening or at night. It's boring. It's good money. It's gone on for years.

There's a cartoon in Valerie's psychiatrist's office that has four frames. In the first, the patient is deflated, flat as a pancake. The psychiatrist looks normal. A vacuum cleaner-looking hose is hooked up between them. "How have you been?" the psychiatrist asks. 

 "I need your help. I'm depressed," the patient says in the second frame. "I'll do my best to help, tell me more," the psychiatrist says. He looses some of his stature, the patient gets more inflated. 

 "I have no life," the patient says in the third frame. "Why do you think that is?" the psychiatrist asks, deflating.  

"My wife is having an affair with the milk man," the patient says. "Are you certain? Have you seen them?" the psychiatrist ask. "Well, no. Maybe I'm being just being jealous," the patient answers as he swells to full size and the psychiatrist deflates flat as a pancake.

Valerie's psychiatrist's wife called her two days before their regular appointment. "He had an episode from the anesthesia during minor surgery, and is in the hospital," she said, her voice high pitched and taught. "Your appointment will have to be rescheduled."

"On, no," Valerie said, after a very shaky pause. She had become too dependent and drained him?  Whatifhedied, whatifhedied, whatifhedied swirled behind her eyebrows. "What seems to be the problem?" Valerie dared to ask, putting one word carefully after the other. 

"He's having an MRI, right now," his wife said. "They don't expect to find anything." Her soft, slight voice wavered.

"Oh, what a relief, " Valerie said with true sincerity. "How are you?"

"I am worried," his wife said.

"I know he'll be fine."  The words leapt from her mouth. "He knows how much we care." Valerie laughed, as much to reassure herself as his wife. 

"Yes, he will  be fine," his wife repeated, laughing slightly. Her voice full and firmer. "He is  a strong man. And he knows how we all want him around for a long time. Thank you."

Valerie remembered the cartoon. It's not about me right now, it's about him, his health. "Tell him I said he should rest and get better," she said a little too cheerfully.

They hung up. Valerie felt drained, and she had to go to work. He must be exhausted by the end of the day, she thought. She picked up her gear and left.

And that's true. To an extent.