Perfunctory Affection

by Kim Harrison

  Meg held the stone, unable to look away from his wild, spittle-flying demands. Behind her, the light changed. Grabbing her canvas, she crossed the street. She could hear Chris following. If she went in, Daniel might not find her, so she spun to put her back to the bike stand to wait. Why doesn’t he go away!

  “You have to kill them,” he whispered, and she jerked when he brandished the hand he’d been hiding. She stared, transfixed, at his truncated ring finger. Did he chop it off? she wondered. “It’s the only way,” he said, voice hushed. “I’ll help you, but you have to get rid of that stone. Now. They can track you through it. It’s a slave collar.”

  He reached for her. Panicked, she shoved him away. “Get off!” she shouted, and he fell into the coffee shop’s planter. Annoyed, as he gathered himself to rise. But then he hesitated, his attention drawn to a car screeching to a halt in the nearby parking lot.

  It was Daniel, and relief swept her as the lanky man bolted out of the car.

  “You stupid fool.” Chris’s eyes pinched in annoyance, and then he turned and fled.

  “That way!” Meg shouted when Daniel ran to her instead of following Chris. “He went that way!”

  “Stay here. I want to talk to you,” Daniel said, and she froze, shocked at the smooth clink of handcuffs as he locked her to the bike rack.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed, as he took off after Chris. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ll be right back!” he called over his shoulder, and then he turned a corner and was gone.

  “Son of a biscuit,” she swore mildly, then looked up, shifting to hide the cuffs and smile at the couple going into the shop. The sun was hot, and she managed to get her phone out, ticked as she called Dr. Jillium. It wasn’t as if she could call Austin. Besides, she wanted to ask her if Chris had really been a patient of hers…and how he managed to land in a psych ward after taking Fitrecepon.

  Jaw clenched, Meg waited as the phone hummed. The notarized medical waivers were starting to make a lot more sense. Sure, she had warned Meg about the side effects, but landing in a mental hospital with imaginary friends hadn’t been one of them. Or had it?

  Meg’s shoulders slumped when Dr. Jillium finally picked up. “Meg!” the woman exclaimed brightly, and then after an awkward hesitation, “How’s your weekend going?”

  “Peachy.” Her back to the store, Meg hid that she was cuffed from the older man going in. “A detective just locked me to a bike rack outside of University Dregs so he could chase down one of your former patients.”

  “Uh, what?” the woman asked, and Meg’s lips pressed at the guilt in her voice.

  “Daniel Hun?” Meg questioned, feeling vindicated. She had a right to be upset. “He’s chasing Christopher.”

  “Oh, my God. Chris? Meg, are you okay?” Dr. Jillium blurted, and Meg stifled a shudder.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Meg asked, the sun unable to warm her. “Is it the Fitrecepon? What did you put me on?”

  Dr. Jillium sighed. Meg could hear it clear through the connection. “I told you there were occasional complications. Chris has problems, but none of them stem from Fitrecepon. I’m at my office. I can be there in just a few minutes.”

  “That would be nice,” Meg said sourly, but Dr. Jillium had already hung up. Meg awkwardly wrangled her phone closed and stuffed it in a pocket. Looking up, she smiled weakly at the couple coming out, hoping none of her students saw her leaning with a forced casualness against the bike rack as if waiting for a John. She scanned the sidewalk for Dr. Jillium, wondering if it would take a cop to get the cuffs off or if Dr. Jillium had a special skill set that Meg wasn’t aware of.

  But Meg pulled herself straight, her fake smile failing when Daniel showed up first, alone, and looking hot in his black suit and tie. “Sorry,” he said when he got close enough. “I didn’t think you’d wait, and I wanted to talk to you.”

  Ticked, she stepped aside so he could undo the cuff. His shadow blanketed her wrist, and she tugged free, watching him fold the cuffs up and tuck them in a back belt holster with a clinking, practiced motion. “I’m the one that called you, remember?” she said. “Am I under arrest?”

  Daniel ran a quick hand over his mouth to hide his smile. “No. You want a coffee? It’s the least I can do for cuffing you to a bike rack. We can play information,” he added when she picked up her things in a huff. “I tell you stuff, and you tell me stuff.”

  Meg’s eyes narrowed, but information sounded like a pleasant change. “Fine,” she said, rubbing her wrist as if she could still feel the hard steel there. “But I get the first question.” Pushing past him, she went in and dropped her canvas and purse at the small table by the window that she and Austin always used. There was no one waiting in line, and she ordered one of Haley’s sugar bombs instead of her typical black coffee. Daniel ordered an iced coffee, his hands in his pockets and his focus distant on the menu as he rocked back and forth on his heels. The baristas were too close to ask him anything, and so they waited until their drinks came up.

  She was still mad when they went to sit down, and Meg took her usual spot in the sun. There was a spider spinning a web outside the window, and she stifled the urge to go out and crush it. They were bad this year, God knew why. “Me first,” she said, and Daniel’s obvious bliss in the cold drink vanished. “Is he dangerous?”

  The young man leaned back, his suit giving him a sly-businessman-like mien as he stirred the ice with his straw. “Chris? Only if you listen to him. What did he tell you?”

  Meg took a slow sip, the coffee so full of sugar it felt like syrup. “Not much,” she admitted, eyes down. “He rambled on about being able to see them, whoever ‘they’ are. That they were real, and that they’d kidnap me unless I helped him kill them.”

  “Did he say how he’d do it?”

  Meg’s eyes darted up to his, shocked at the tension he was trying to hide.

  The jingle of the door opening drew his attention, and his expression eased into a slight frown.

  “Daniel,” Dr. Jillium said as she came in, looking casual in her jeans and light top. “You should have called me. I need to know when one of my patients goes on walkabout.”

  Daniel looked between the two of them, his worry vanishing at Meg’s relieved smile. “Dr. Jillium,” he said as he stood, shifting a chair to make room for her. “I was just about to do that. I’m glad to see you. You look great.”

  Brushing past his outstretched hand, Dr. Jillium leaned to peer at Meg. “Are you okay? You don’t have to talk to him,” she added, lips pressing into a thin line as she gave Daniel a sidelong glance.

  “I’m fine now that I’m not locked to a bike rack.” Meg eyed them both suspiciously. Daniel was scrubbing a hand across his cleanly shaven face as if embarrassed. “You two know each other?” she asked, but the answer was obvious.

  Daniel’s smile became strained. “We’ve done business before.”

  “Business?” Meg echoed, tucking her purse deeper under her chair. Dr. Jillium had noticed it, and she really didn’t want to talk about why her curling iron and hairbrush were poking out of it.

  Motion full of grace, Dr. Jillium sat down. “Daniel and I met the first time Chris escaped the hospital. I’m not happy with his techniques to reacquire him. Playing along with a client’s delusions in order to entrap them is not morally right.”

  Daniel’s smile widened to crinkle his eyes. “But it is effective. Can I get you a coffee, Doc? I could use your help in building a framework for his probable patterns this go around.”

  This happens a lot? Meg wondered, becoming more uneasy. Just what had Dr. Jillium given her?

  But Dr. Jillium was looking at Meg’s cup. “That’s not your usual,” she said warily, and Meg flushed.

  “I’m expanding my palate,” she said, then took a sip to prove that she was enjoying it.

  Daniel rocked back, turning to the ordering counter. “It was black, wasn’t it, Doc? With a little sugar?”

  Dr. Jillium nodded, setti
ng her purse on Daniel’s chair when he went to stand in the new line, hands in his pockets to look innocuous. But Meg had her doubts.

  “Where is your mom’s necklace?” she asked, and Meg jerked. “It’s not making you itch, is it?”

  Eyebrows high, Meg reached for her new one, the smooth feel of it different in her hand. Dr. Jillium saw everything. “No,” she said as she spun the cool length of gold to hide the clasp. “I just took it off is all. It was time to start letting go.”

  “Oh.” Dr. Jillium’s suspicion seemed to ease as she peered appreciatively at it. “That’s beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that kind of a stone before. Your ring is gone, too.”

  Lips pressed, Meg looked at her splayed fingers, seeing the pale line of skin where Austin’s ring had been. “Ah, yeah,” she hedged, fighting back a surge of anger. “It’s all part of that letting go thing. Dr. Jillium, who is Christopher?”

  Apparently satisfied, Dr. Jillium straightened, her posture perfect as she primly pushed the cinnamon container still at the table to the window. “You know I can’t talk about other patients with you,” she said cagily.

  “That boat sailed yesterday,” Meg insisted. “Who is he, and what happened to him?” she asked again, and when Dr. J hesitated, she added, “I’m on the same thing he was. Is? I deserve to know. Especially if he’s stalking me.”

  Frowning, Dr. Jillium glanced up at Daniel before scooting her chair closer. Her tightly braided hair glistened as she leaned in, and Meg caught the faint scent of whatever she oiled it with. The first hints of gray were showing, and Meg thought it unfair that it only made her look more professional, more graceful, somehow.

  “He was a games specialist,” Dr. Jillium said softly. “One of those people who can build an entire world to play in on the internet. Marvelous imagination. He was in the top of his field for a time in creating story lines for new games, and he came to me after he began having difficulty accepting the loss of his son and wife.”

  Meg nodded. Dr. Jillium specialized in grief-borne issues. It was why she’d gone to her after her mother’s death.

  “I started him on Fitrecepon to get him back into making life-affirming decisions,” Dr. Jillium was saying, her eyes on her clasped hands resting on the table. They were dark in the sun, and gracefully thin and long, and Meg realized only now there was no wedding ring, no nothing.

  “It was before we knew the early signs of a bad reaction.” Dr. Jillium looked up, the heartache in her eyes surprising Meg. “He was having multiple, paranoid hallucinations before I knew it and could take him off the Fitrecepon. I’m sorry to say that despite several years of therapy, he continues to believe there is a mirror world where he can go and find respite from his pain. He says it’s where the fey live, which I would think odd except for his mythology background that he used in formatting his computer worlds. Stories of elves stealing the unwary are not uncommon.”

  “Take him to a perfect world,” Meg said, remembering Christopher saying something about utopia.

  Dr. Jillium’s tightly clasped hands sprang apart. “He told you?” she asked, their smooth length on the table, and Meg shrugged, embarrassed to have been caught up in someone else’s delusions even this lightly. It was like looking in their underwear drawer and comparing brands.

  “He, ah, wanted to help me kill them,” Meg said, and Dr. Jillium’s expression blanked. “Elves?” Meg asked, thinking that Christopher’s question of “Can you see them?” suddenly made sense in an odd way. No, she couldn’t see them, but that he thought she could gave her the willies.

  “He insists that the fey took him there and that he escaped, but the only place he’s escaped from is the hospital.” Dr. Jillium glanced at Daniel waiting at the pickup counter. “Several times, now. Meg, I’m so sorry,” she added, actually giving her hand a quick squeeze. “You shouldn’t have gotten caught up in this. I didn’t know Chris had escaped again. That he found you is unfortunate. He must have seen you leave my office and is after more Fitrecepon. It was responsible for the hallucinations, so in a way, it would give him a path to escape reality again.”

  Meg nodded, though Christopher had made it very clear that he didn’t want any of the drug. No, he didn’t want her to take any. Maybe he was planning to go through her trash for them?

  “How many pills do you have left?” Dr. Jillium asked, and Meg jerked at a stab of angst. She wouldn’t take her off it, would she? “I’m not sure,” Meg said faintly, but it wasn’t more than a day’s worth at this point, and both of them knew it.

  “You should have about four or five left,” Dr. Jillium said as she flipped through an app on her phone. “I’m not comfortable giving you more than a day’s dose at a time until Christopher is found. Would you find it too difficult to stop in every day and pick up a twenty-four-hour supply until he’s back in custody?”

  Meg fought to hide her relief. “No, that would be fine,” she said lightly, and Dr. Jillium smiled.

  “Thanks. I know it’s a pain, but I’d feel better. I just want what’s best for you, and you seem to be responding well to it.” Again she glanced at Daniel. “Is that yours, or a student’s?” she asked, her attention falling to Meg’s canvas.

  Meg took a breath of air and held it, not wanting to explain why it was sitting next to her purse. “Ah, mine,” she finally said as she showed it to her, and Dr. Jillium took it, carefully handling it by the edges with the palms of her hands.

  “It’s beautiful.” Dr. Jillium tilted it so the strong light made the black lines almost glow. “No wonder your class tripled over winter break. The way you define with only a third of the subject leaving the mind to fill in the rest…I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

  “Haley said the same thing,” Meg took it back, modestly setting it out of the way where no one else could see it. “That’s why I’m going to give it to her.”

  “Haley?” Dr. Jillium predictably asked, and Meg smiled, doggedly determined not to bring up having broken up with Austin. Not yet. Tomorrow was soon enough.

  “She’s my new friend,” Meg admitted, thinking it funny a grown woman would be so proud of it. “The one you told me to make? I’m taking your homework very seriously, so new sandals, new friend.” New life, she thought. “We went to the mall yesterday. Had dinner out at a new place afterward. Her brother gave me the necklace.”

  Dr. Jillium smiled, her gaze rising from Meg’s offered sandaled foot to the necklace. “And Austin?” she prompted.

  Meg dropped her eyes. Steeling herself, she forced them to meet Dr. Jillium’s. “I think we’re done,” she said softly as her pulse quickened. “You were right that he was a crutch. He loves me, but he’d rather I stay the way I was. He wants me just well enough to function, but not well enough to be able to stand on my own. He should be seeing you, not me,” she said, still not going to tell her she was temporarily moving in with Haley.

  “Meg, I’m so proud of you,” Dr. Jillium said, her absolutely beaming smile the last thing Meg had expected to see. “This is a very big breakthrough,” she added, giving Meg’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’m so pleased that you finally see that you don’t need Austin to function. Your progress will move forward much faster now.”

  She doesn’t care that I broke up with Austin? Meg thought, confused.

  “Coffee!” Daniel sang out as he suddenly appeared behind Dr. Jillium and set a large paper cup beside her. Both women went silent as he sat down, Dr. Jillium taking her first sip as Meg tried to figure this out. Dr. Jillium seemed more than indifferent about her cutting Austin out of her life. She actually seemed pleased. All this time Meg had thought Dr. Jillium wanted her to work things out, make concessions, but it had only been a psychological task to get her to make a positive choice for the right reasons.

  Suddenly Meg felt uncomfortable, and she stood up, and gathered her things. “Can I go?” she asked, and the two of them looked blankly at her. “I’ve told you everything I know, and I’ve got someone waiting fo
r me.”

  “Haley?” Dr. Jillium asked, and Meg nodded since it seemed to be the right thing to say.

  “I just have one question,” Daniel said, his elbows on the table as he leaned over it. “Did Chris tell you where he was going?”

  Meg hitched her purse higher up on her shoulder, trying to hide it behind her back so Dr. Jillium wouldn’t see what was in it. “No. Sorry.”

  Daniel threw a hand carelessly into the air and slumped back in his chair. “Then I’m done. Unless he contacts you again.”

  Meg began inching away. “Sure. If you promise not to lock me to a bike rack. Again.”

  Daniel grinned, looking boyishly attractive, but it only made Dr. Jillium frown. “Don’t forget your coffee,” Dr. Jillium said, and Meg half crouched to take it, keeping her purse behind her back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Meg, but call me if you see Chris.” She hesitated, glancing at Daniel. “Or if anything seems wrong. Okay?”

  “Okay. Monday,” Meg said, anxious to be back in the sun.

  Pace fast, she wove through the tables, looking back once to see Daniel and Dr. Jillium already in a hot argument, their heads close and their body language obvious. Not a flicker of guilt crossed her as she dropped her coffee in the trash and went out onto the sidewalk.

  Her eyes darted up and down the busy street, but she found a confident pace once she decided Chris wasn’t waiting. Mood easing, she played with the necklace that Rorry had given her, her thoughts on what she and Haley might do today. She felt good when she was with Haley, and right now, that was all that mattered.

  Fourteen

  It was the breeze that woke Meg, a cool breath of summer sliding into Haley’s apartment to find her asleep on the couch. Eyes shut, she lay listening to the sparrow-laced silence, smiling at the muted conversation from the passing joggers. Her cheek was cool with the new day, and she stretched, her gaze going to the kitchen. Something had woken her, but it hadn’t been Haley. The kitchen held only silence. And the playful canister set and matching dishcloths we picked out, Meg thought as she sat up, her toes reaching to feel the bumps on the colorful throw they’d bought almost as an afterthought but which seemed to bring everything together.