by N L Westaway
“Family stuff—had to go see my mother,” Laura said, when Marlene got closer.
“Your mother—why didn’t you tell me?” Marlene asked, a lilt of surprise in her voice.
“It was a quick trip,” she said, making room for Marlene on the bench. Whoever got there first usually sat in the middle to save space for the other and just in case someone else came along and chose to sit down.
“She okay?” Marlene asked, sitting and taking up the rest of the space by setting her purse next to her on the bench. “You never talk about her.”
Laura took in a deep breath. “She passed, actually,” Laura said, letting out the breath. “She wasn’t well—but I’m fine. We hadn’t spoken in years. Not since Gwen was born in fact.” She forced a smile. “Married young, new baby, dead husband—she had been pretty judgmental about it. Even blamed me for my father’s death—said my leaving had killed him. It’s why I’d stayed away as long as I had,” Laura explained, then handed her friend the Kanelbulle she always brought for Marlene. It was Laura’s version of a Swedish cinnamon roll. Marlene had said they reminded her of her childhood because her mother used to make them and had tried to teach her, but had failed, not because she hadn’t been a good teacher, Marlene had just been more interested in the eating than the baking.
“Oh, thank you-thank you,” Marlene said, snatching up the goodie bag. “No one escapes family drama, I’m sorry to say, but I am sorry you had to deal with that level of it, and I’m sorry your mother died and you had to deal with that too.” She gave Laura’s forearm a light squeeze.
Changing the subject, Laura asked, “Did you see your parents on Sunday?” Marlene’s parents lived nearby and still lived in the same house Marlene had grown up in. She had told Laura the house had lots of room for gatherings and family visits, and she did Sunday dinners with them most weekends. Laura had felt envious of this, not having any siblings of her own, nor had she had any large family gatherings to speak of.
“Yes, and my brothers showed up with their spouses and all the grandkids in tow.” She grinned, then sipped her coffee. Marlene was a first generation American, but her parents were both from Sweden. She was the youngest of four, and all born right here in Ann Arbor. The three older siblings, all boys, were all in the medical field and were bigwigs in the Detroit medical community.
“That sounds nice,” Laura said, giving a sarcastic grin back to her friend.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love my brothers and their families, but I think they all would like me to be married with kids too. My parents know I love my life the way it is, and they have plenty of grandkids to keep them busy. But being the only daughter—you know the drill.” She bit into her pastry and chewed. Then she said, “I really do love my life. I like being single, though I do date—nothing serious, you know. I’m not looking for anything serious, I get enough of that with my job.” She took another bite.
“I understand,” Laura said, she felt the same about her life, but she had no interest in dating. Well, she had felt the same about her life up until the other week, when she had heard the news about the killer being back.
“Hey, we should go out sometime—maybe we could celebrate Gwen’s graduation, I’d love to meet her,” Marlene said, cutting into Laura’s morbid musings.
“I’d love for you to meet Gwen,” Laura said, forcing a smile and then sipping her coffee.
“We’ve been meeting like this for years—I know we have differing schedules, but we should be able to find time for a girl’s night—just the two of us. I know a great restaurant-bar. Then we can make time for a get-together with Gwen nearer to the end of the month,” Marlene added, pulling her cell phone from her purse. “Let me check my schedule.”
Laura set her coffee down on the bench and then removed her own cell phone from her purse. “I’ll check my shifts for the coming weeks.”
“Ooohh, look at you with your calendar app—fancy,” Marlene teased. She had helped Laura set it up last year to help her keep track of not just her schedule but also Gwen’s.
“Har-har,” Laura said, grinning proudly while she scanned her digital calendar. “How about, Saturday—we could meet for lunch.”
“Ah, ya—no, I have a client this Saturday around noon,” Marlene said.
“Client?” Laura asked, mild confusion setting in. Laura slid her phone back into her purse.
“Yes, I don’t normally see patients on weekends, but this is a special case,” Marlene said, adding to Laura’s now growing confusion.
“Patients?” Laura questioned, the reality of her confusion settling in. “Yer a shrink?”
“Well, yes—I thought you knew,” Marlene said. “I have a small practice out of my house, but my cases aren’t something I share with friends.”
Laura knew she had a small two-story home, close enough to downtown to be social but far enough away that she didn’t hear the noise of it. She had told Laura that much, but she had thought Marlene was a professor at the university. “How did I not know this? I thought you just taught psychology.” Laura wrung the strap of her purse with both hands.
“Yes, I do that too, but I only lecture on Tuesday and it’s one class, and it’s why I’m able to meet here. It’s good for me to get out and I like the campus and the people-watching. I don’t schedule sessions on Tuesdays for that reason.”
“I guess I just assumed you had a whole curriculum, not just one lecture.” Laura stood then, her gut screaming not to trust Marlene. But she had trusted her. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay,” she said, checking her watch. “I forgot I need to get something for Gwen on my break.” It was a lie, and a knee jerk reaction, Laura knew it, but the anxiety she was feeling over not knowing this about Marlene after all this time, had critically disturbed her rational thinking.
“Laura?” she heard Marlene call after her as she took off up the street. But Laura did not look back.
Chapter 9
The following week on Tuesday, at the regular time they normally met, Laura headed out to the bench in hopes of finding Marlene there. She needed to apologize for running off like she had.
Laura had wanted to call Marlene, she should have called, but instead, Laura had spent most of her spare time educating and focusing herself on the topics of trust and safety. She had done this to help her get past the anxiety she had experienced over not knowing about Marlene being a psychologist. Trust, the noun, is defined as reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing, and confidence, confident expectation of something or hope. The verb trust is defined as relying upon or place confidence in someone or something and to trust in another's honesty. And safety, was defined as the state of being safe; freedom from the occurrence or risk of injury, danger, or loss. Marlene hadn’t lied to her, she’d only made the assumption that Laura already knew, and Laura had made the wrong assumption that Marlene only taught classes in psychology.
All that focus on trust and safety that Laura had done, didn’t seem to matter now she realized, because Marlene was at the bench as she had hoped, but she wasn’t sitting alone… she was sitting on their bench, with a man.
Laura didn’t know many men in town, many men in general for that matter, and she certainly didn’t recognize this guy.
“Oh, hiii,” Marlene said, when Laura approached the bench. “Laura, this is Professor Christian Weick. He just moved into town, and he’s working with me at the college.”
“Hi—nice to meet you,” the man said, not bothering to get up or make room on the bench. Not that Laura wanted to sit near him. “Dr. Branden mentioned she meets you here Tuesdays after her class.”
“Hi,” Laura said, though sensing the need to run off again.
“How was your week?” Marlene asked, her usual rosy cheeks bunching in a smile.
“Here,” Laura said, handing Marlene her pastry, her eyes still on the bench. “I can’t stay, just wanted to say hi—busy day at the bakery,” she lied, pointing back do
wn the street towards her work. She winced, realizing she had just shared where she worked with this stranger.
“Christian—you should really go check out the amazing delights at the bakery. Laura here is a wizard with the pastry bag,” Marlene said, promoting Laura’s skill when it didn’t need the attention.
“Gotta go—sorry,” Laura said, turning then to head back the way she had come.
She had heard them both call their goodbyes, but she had just kept walking. She’d only just learned that her friend of three years was a shrink, then when she’d worked through her issues over it, her friend shows up at their usual spot to meet—not with her, but with some guy. This was their time to talk, not a time for socializing with others.
Back at the bakery, Laura headed for the office. She still had some time on her break, so she went on the company computer to do a google search on this Professor what’s-his-name, Christian Weick.
She’d typed his name in with and without the ‘professor’ title, and after paging through whatever she could find on anyone with that name, she had come up with nothing, well, nothing other than the long list of professional accolades she had found referencing his many contributions to the psychology field, along with his numerous achievements and degrees.
What was the matter with her? Marlene was her friend; they had been friends for over three years now. Why was she letting all these insignificant things get to her? So-what if she was a psychologist, and so what if she was chatting with a colleague on their bench. The bench didn’t belong to them, they just used it for their meet-ups, the bench belonged to the city and they’d been lucky to use it, she’d been lucky to find a friend like Marlene. But then why was she being so paranoid?
She googled paranoia.
The online dictionary showed the definition as, a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically elaborated into an organized system. The psychiatry website she brought up next, had it defined as, a mental disorder characterized by systematized delusions and the projection of personal conflicts, which are ascribed to the supposed hostility of others, sometimes progressing to disturbances of consciousness and aggressive acts believed to be performed in self-defense or as a mission. But on the same website, she found a description she preferred, that read, a baseless or excessive suspicion of the motives of others. That was her alright. She wasn’t paranoid, really, she was just an idiot who had been running scared too long. Now, she owed Marlene two apologies.
When Laura finished her break, she went out to the front area of the bakery where she found… her friend Marlene… standing near the entrance to the bakery. “I just stopped in to see that you were okay,” Marlene said, when she noticed Laura come out from the back.
“I’m fine—really. I’m sorry for being so unfriendly to your colleague—for rushing off, and for cutting our time short last week.” Laura’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind with Gwen’s graduation and I guess I just really needed to talk to you today.” It wasn’t a lie, she did have a lot on her mind, but it was way more than just her daughter’s graduation. Laura came closer through the space between the display case and the counter, to make the conversation more private. Not that there was a lot of privacy in a public bakery.
Marlene shook her head. “I’m sorry—I know Tuesdays is our time, and we haven’t gotten to see each other much. So, I’m sorry—I should have touched base with Professor Weick after our chat time.” Marlene gave Laura a faint smile, then reached out and drew a hand down Laura’s sleeve, giving it a shake at the wrist.
Laura felt the sincerity in both Marlene’s words and her actions for coming to check on her, and she smiled back at her friend. She liked that Marlene had come looking for her, that she had realized what Laura’s non-verbal attitude at the bench had truly meant. And feeling more confident now, Laura said, “We should meet up—tonight. Maybe go to that restaurant you mentioned last week.”
“Yes—I’d love that,” Marlene said, her smile widening.
“Me too,” Laura said, grinning again.
Marlene put one hand on her hip and checked the time on her cell phone in her other hand. “How about tonight—say 7ish?” she suggested.
“Perfect, that will give me time to change after work,” Laura said.
“I’ll text you the name and address,” Marlene said. “I better leave before I order something. Need to save my appetite for tonight.”
Marlene winked, and it made Laura laugh. “Tonight, then,” Laura said, through another chuckle.
“Tonight—see you there,” Marlene confirmed, before turning and heading out the door.
“Nice friend you got there,” the teenage girl at the cash counter said, “She was in the other week as well—when you were gone, asking about you.”
Laura nodded. It was nice knowing someone cared about her whereabouts, cared about her for a change, she mused, as she headed back into the baking area.
When Laura’s shift ended at 5 p.m. she hustled herself off home to get ready for her first girl’s night out. She had just enough time to shower and change into something nice. She didn’t have many good clothes and really the only nice thing she owned was the dress she’d bought to wear for Gwen’s high school graduation. It still fit, luckily, even if it was a few years out of fashion. She didn’t own any makeup, so the only change she could make to herself was with her hair. She normally wore it pulled back and in a tight bun, but after her shower she’d blown it dry, and since she preferred her hair off her face, she’d fastened the long length into a soft French braid.
Laura entered the restaurant to see the waving arms of Marlene who had found a nice bar-top table near the side windows. She was on time, but she’d had to swap her bag for the purse that went with her dress. She couldn’t show up with that satchel of hers swung over her shoulder, but this purse wasn’t big enough for her wallet and keys, cell phone and pepper spray, and she’d had to make a choice, and the pepper spray had lost out to needing money, communication and a way to lock her front door. When she had googled the restaurant’s address on her phone, it had been further than she had realized, and she’d had to hoof it there. Thankfully, unlike Marlene, Laura only wore flats, making it easier to keep a brisk pace all the way. Laura ran a palm over her hair to smooth any strays that had escaped her hairdo, before shuffling over to the table.
“Did you drive?” Laura asked, maneuvering into the tall bar chair next to Marlene.
“No—I don’t have a car, actually, don’t need it. I’m like you—I walk everywhere,” Marlene said, then leaned to one side and gestured to get the waitress’s attention. “My parents have a car—only my mom drives, but I use it on occasion to go into Detroit, or drive them to family gatherings, my mom only drives in town.” Marlene smiled. “We gather at least once a month at one of my brothers’ homes—they take turns, and it’s usually around someone’s birthday. With a big group—it’s easier to do birthday month.” Marlene smiled and when the waitress stopped at their table.
“What can I get you, ladies?” The waitress asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.
“I’ll have a Cosmo,” Marlene said.
The waitress glanced at Laura.
“Uhmmm…,” Laura began, unprepared to pick a drink.
“She’ll have the same,” Marlene told the girl. “They taste like Kool-Aid—you’ll like it.
Laura had never had a Cosmo before, though she had tried Kool-Aid. Had made it for Gwen when she was a little girl, though Gwen hadn’t liked it much, she hadn’t been one for sweet things.
“Now about my practice,” Marlene said, cutting to the chase.
Laura shook her head. “No—I understand, and I’m sorry about that. I reacted poorly—I’m deeply sorry,” Laura said. She meant it, she wasn’t upset about the whole ‘client’ thing anymore, in fact she had been hoping to get her professional opinion about her situation, ab
out why someone would stalk her.
Marlene patted Laura’s hand. “I really care about my patients, and I have a hard time not offering help to people in need,” she said.
“Your advice to me over the years has made a huge difference in how I’ve dealt with the challenges in my life,” Laura said, just as the waitress returned with their drinks.
When the waitress was gone, Marlene said, “It’s my job to help others work through their conflicts, so I try to lead by example and make sure I talk about things bothering me etc., with a friend or colleague. Practice what I preach, ya know.”
“Did you always want to be a psychologist?” Laura sniffed the drink.
Marlene tapped her glass against Laura’s, then said, “Cheers,” and took a sip. After swallowing, she said, “Well, I was following in my brothers’ footsteps to become a doctor, I am a medical doctor, but I was more fascinated with the mind than the body, and chose to do my residency in psychology.”
“I don’t really drink,” Laura admitted, lifting the fancy glass to take the tiniest of sips. “Mmm, it does taste like that kids’ drink.”
Marlene laughed. “I like a drink now and then, and usually like this, at a local restaurant or pub. I never drink alone—it’s a social thing for me,” she shared.
“Your job is stressful, I would imagine,” Laura said, setting the glass back down.
“No—I don’t really get stressed, but I guess if something is troubling me, I tend to eat my feelings. I'm human like the rest of the people on the planet.”
“If you couldn’t be a shrink, what else would you want to do for a living?” Laura asked, moving her glass further away from the edge of the table.
