by L. L. Soares
My wife is a drunk, he thought, watching her sleep.
He could have easily made a scene and confronted her. But this was not the time. He simply decided to go out to eat. She probably needed the sleep.
He went out to the car. Despite his training, he wondered how he should handle this. After all, she wasn’t one of his patients. She was his wife. And how he handled this one would affect him as well.
* * *
I wonder if he thinks I’m nuts, talking about glowing and visions and everything, Colleen thought. But he didn’t even question me when I said it. He really seemed to believe me.
The television was on. One of those big-screen plasma numbers. An old movie called All About Eve was on. She’d always wanted to see it, but never had. He seemed happy to show it to her. But she wasn’t really paying attention. She was too wrapped up in her thoughts. Going over the conversation they’d had in her mind.
She was on the sofa now. He was asleep on a big, leather chair. It had to be almost midnight.
Viv was still in her room. The door was closed. She hadn’t come out to eat or anything. And she didn’t make a sound. Colleen assumed she was sleeping, too.
Colleen didn’t feel tired at all. The nap she’d had on Jeremy’s bed had been more than enough. She was wide awake, but having difficulty focusing on the movie. Not that it was bad. At first she’d been very interested. She really liked Bette Davis. But so much had happened in the last twenty-four hours that there was no way she could just sit still and watch a movie.
She quietly got up off the sofa and moved toward the sliding glass doors. She wanted to be outside, near the water. She wanted to walk along the beach, and get away from her thoughts.
Slowly, she opened the door and slipped outside. She slid the door closed behind her. She’d brought a pack of cigarettes with her and lit one as she stood on the deck. There was a breeze. She took a drag and descended the stairs.
The moon was almost full and the beach at night was beautiful.
* * *
Sam woke up sweaty and breathing hard. He’d had one of his nightmares again.
Not that he remembered any of it. There was just a jumble of blurred images. While he was actually dreaming, though, it had been horrible. He could still feel the terror. His chest felt tight.
He turned over. Maggie was sprawled beside him, oblivious. She’d come to bed some time during the night. There was a time in their marriage when she’d wake up when he had his nightmares. When she’d hold him close until he went back to sleep. Sure, there was something Oedipal about all that. Having Mommy close by when he was afraid. He wasn’t afraid to face his Freudian demons right in the eye. But that didn’t make it any easier to lose that comfort. To see Maggie unconscious and oblivious to his needs.
He wondered if she’d snuck more drinks before coming to bed.
What am I going to do? he asked himself. Subject her to daily urine tests?
He wasn’t going to do anything to rob her of her dignity. But he couldn’t just sit by and watch her descent into the maelstrom. He was a therapist, after all. He had to confront her on this, talk to her. Get her to tell him why she was acting this way.
They’d grown apart these last couple of years, since his practice started growing by leaps and bounds. His success seemed to coincide with her decline. Was this some sort of strange competition? Or was she merely crying out for his attention?
It’s like she’s giving up, he thought, hoping he was wrong.
She gently stirred in her sleep. One of her hands absently rested on the side of her mouth as she half-turned.
He moved up close to her and wrapped an arm around her. Despite the current distance between them, he still loved her. He could still remember what had drawn him to her, the way he felt about her back when they were both younger. And how those feelings grew.
Sam wasn’t going to let her fall. He wasn’t going to let her hit bottom.
“I’m here,” he said softly, squeezing her. Could she even hear him?
He lay there, awake, his arm around her. Hoping his holding her while she slept gave her some kind of subconscious comfort of her own.
He closed his eyes, trying very hard to keep his mind blank until the alarm rang.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When Colleen came back inside, Jeremy was still asleep in his chair, unperturbed by the noise coming from the television. All About Eve was over, and there was some kind of shoot-out on the screen now. Colleen grabbed the remote and switched it off.
She wanted Jeremy to go back to his own bed, but she knew he wouldn’t. That he would insist that she take it. She didn’t want to argue with him. He looked so peaceful.
She didn’t have the heart to wake him.
Maybe I should go back to bed, she thought.
She could see down the hallway from where she stood, down to the room where Viv was. There was light coming from under the door.
Maybe she’s awake, too, Colleen thought. Either that, or she’s afraid of the dark,
which didn’t seem too likely. Colleen had only met her for a few minutes, but Viv did not seem like the type who would scare easily.
And there was that strange vision she’d had. Did it mean something? Was there some kind of link between Viv and the guy who had killed Turney? Colleen hoped there wasn’t. But she’d never seen those kinds of things before. And now, twice in two days.
I wonder what she’s doing in there, Colleen thought.
She slowly walked down the hallway, making sure she didn’t make any noise. She took great care in each step. Softly putting each foot down.
When she reached the door, she bent down. It was one of those old-fashioned doors with a keyhole. She could see Viv clearly.
She was nude, sitting in the middle of a wooden floor in the lotus position. Her mouth moved, like she was chanting, or maybe saying her mantra, but Colleen couldn’t hear anything.
She must be meditating, Colleen thought.
Sweat glistened on Viv’s shoulders and forehead. Colleen could see that Viv had a very good body. Small-muscled and fit. She certainly looked like she could have been a model at one time. Her breasts were slightly larger than Colleen’s, and firm. Her whitish- blonde pubic hair, what Colleen could see of it behind her folded legs, appeared to be trimmed into a very precise, tiny triangle.
Like a topiary hedge, Colleen thought. She almost laughed at that.
Suddenly, Viv’s eyes opened.
Not knowing if Viv could see her looking, Colleen resisted the urge to run away. It would make too much noise. And if Viv didn’t know she was there now, the sound of her running would be a dead giveaway.
Softly, Colleen stood up and slowly walked away from the door.
The whole length of the hallway, she dreaded that the door would open behind her, that Viv would accuse her of spying.
But there wasn’t a sound. By the time Colleen got back to the living room, she was convinced that Viv hadn’t known she was outside her door, looking in.
Jeremy was still asleep.
Quietly, Colleen went down the other corridor, back to his bedroom, and closed the door. She was already barefoot (the cool sand of the beach beneath her feet had felt wonderful), and she stretched out on his bed in her clothes. Her head against the fluffy pillows.
She closed her eyes, convinced she would just lay here until dawn, and then maybe she’d get up and see about making breakfast. She thought about how nice Jeremy had been to her; how she’d been able to open up to him so quickly and tell him what had happened to Turney. How she felt safe here. And even though Viv had seemed kind of odd, Colleen didn’t feel threatened by her.
She had these thoughts, and then, without warning, she fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Riding on the subway to work, Sam’s thoughts drifted to Charlie. The kid was only seventeen, and he already hated the whole world. Already had a police record and a history of rage. He is going to be a hard case, Sam thought. I wonder
if he’ll show up today, or if he’ll stay away for a week or two.
Either way, Sam knew he’d be back eventually. Sam was his only option to control that temper of his. Otherwise, the kid’s future probably amounted to iron bars and maybe even a lethal injection.
I’ve got to save him, Sam thought. It’s clear nobody’s tried to reach him, help him before. I’ve got to be the one.
And, like tiny rockets, those thoughts led him to think about Maggie, asleep through the alarm, refusing to get out of bed. He wondered how many days she’d gotten drunk and missed work. Did she even still have a job at this point? And was it to the point where alcohol had taken over as the most important thing in her life?
He’d seen the symptoms before. He couldn’t stand seeing her this way, and found himself more perplexed about how to deal with her.
He thought about calling her office, checking up on her, but that might just make matters worse. Chances were she wasn’t there and his inquiring about her might make it all that more difficult for her to take her life back, once she realized how bad things were.
He would have to really consider the best course of action in dealing with her. After all, he still loved her. He wanted to help her. Wanted to save her from as much pain as he could.
Why did this happen? he wondered. She used to be so stable. So confident. What made her fall apart like this? Was it me? Did I contribute to this fall? And why did it take me so long to see what was happening? Are we that distant these days? Am I really that self-absorbed lately that I didn’t see what must have been so obvious?
He couldn’t be sure. But he refused to think about it further. For now.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed his stop. He managed to get off just before the train doors closed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Colleen woke up coughing. She was wrapped up in the sheets again. There was a return-to-the-womb quality about the entanglement that she would have recognized if she thought about it deeply enough. But she didn’t. Instead, she just freed herself from the sheets and got up. She was still dressed. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Then, she went and changed her tampon before she left the bedroom and went out into the hallway.
She was greeted by the sound and smell of bacon sizzling. When she reached the living room, she turned to look down the other hallway that led to Viv’s room. The door was open. Jeremy was in the kitchen, in his white and red striped robe, cooking breakfast. No doubt he’d spent the rest of the night sleeping in front of the television.
“Ah, there you are,” he said, clearly pleased to see her. “I was hoping you’d wake up before the food got cold, or burnt.”
She didn’t say a word as she sat down at the kitchen table. A round Formica number that reminded her of her childhood, even though she’d never had a table like this. But it seemed so familiar. Was it because of the TV shows she’d watched so religiously as a child?
He put a plate in front of her soon after. Scrambled eggs, bacon, fried tomatoes, buttered toast.
“I hope you aren’t a vegan,” he said, as he looked down, seeing if she’d eat.
“Nope,” she said. She stubbed out what was left of her cigarette and grabbed a fork. Jeremy poured her a glass of fresh orange juice, as she eagerly dug into the food. “You must have been tired,” he said. “I knew you’d gone back to sleep after your walk on the beach.”
She was sure he’d been asleep when she’d done that, but maybe he was a lighter sleeper than she’d assumed. Then she remembered the way she’d spied on Viv. Had he seen that, too? There was no point in dwelling on it. And she was starving.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “There’s plenty more if you want it.” He poured her some coffee.
“I’m fine,” she said between mouthfuls of eggs.
“We have a big day ahead of us,” he said, smiling. His lips didn’t match, but that was okay.
She looked up from her plate. “Huh?” she asked.
“We’re going to go to your old apartment, and gather your stuff,” he explained. “You’re moving in here today.”
She didn’t know how to answer that, so she continued eating. She had already intruded enough on this man’s life and really had no right to be here. But another part of her wanted to get as far away as she could from what had happened to Turney. Wanted to embrace Jeremy’s offer of a safe haven.
Better to simply give up all responsibility, she thought, and let him make up my mind for me.
He sat down across from her. There was a glass of orange juice in his hand, and she just knew it was spiked with vodka for some reason. The glass kept going to his non-matching lips, then away again.
“You’ve been through a lot and need a sanctuary,” he told her. “Fortunately, I can give you that. We’ve got plenty of room here.”
She didn’t argue with him.
* * *
Maggie smiled at the bartender. “Another martini please,” she said.
“I’ll have the same,” a woman’s voice said beside her.
Maggie looked over at the attractive woman beside her. Her hair was an almost whitish-blonde, and she had the most beautiful violet eyes Maggie had ever seen.
“Hi,” the woman said, noticing Maggie’s gaze and smiling.
“Hi,” Maggie said. She was sure when she’d first entered the bar that she wanted to be alone. But now she wasn’t so sure.
“My name’s Viv,” the blonde said.
“I’m Maggie,” she said, grabbing the martini glass by the stem and bringing it to her lips.
“Cool,” Viv said, taking her own glass and swallowing. She paid for both of the drinks, and Maggie let her. “You come here often? Haven’t seen you here before.”
Her words washed over Maggie like a warm geyser spray. There was something very soothing about her voice.
Maggie realized she’d been there awhile already, even though it was only around one in the afternoon.
“On and off,” she said.
Viv took a long draw from her glass. “Good to meet ya.”
Maggie, who had never flirted with another woman before, suddenly found that she was very attracted to this woman for some reason. In this setting, no less.
“You wanna’ go somewhere?” Viv asked, absently touching the ring in her left nostril.
“Where?” Maggie said, determined to play it dumb.
“Anywhere but here.”
“Okay,” Maggie said, tapping into a part of herself she never would have had access to if she had been sober. She was actually excited, agreeing to Viv’s suggestion.
More excited than she’d been in years. “I’m game, if we can pick up something to drink on the way.”
Viv smiled. “Sure.”
After they finished their drinks, they got up, arm in arm and slightly tipsy, and left the dark interior of the unnamed bar for parts unknown.
* * *
He sat in his office, on the soft leather chair he always sat in when he addressed patients, waiting.
He resisted the impulse to get up and ask Carla if Charlie had canceled. It was obvious the kid wouldn’t have picked up the phone to call.
Shit, he thought. I could have predicted this would happen. This kid is going to be a special case, deserving personal attention.
He looked through his old-fashioned Rolodex. Carla had recently updated it for him. He looked through the J’s and stopped at Jarrold, Charlie.
He looked at the phone number written there, and hesitated.
What good is calling going to do? he wondered. If he picks up, he’ll probably just hang up on me. If his mother answers, I’ll just get him in trouble. Which will make it more difficult to establish a bond of trust between us.
The decision didn’t have to be made, though, because just then the phone buzzed.
“Yes, Carla.”
“Charlie Jarrold is here. Shall I send him in?”
“I’ll be right out,” Sam said.
He put d
own the phone and took a deep breath. Then he got up and went to the door. Charlie was standing by Carla’s desk, looking disheveled. He refused to look at Sam.
“Come on in, Charlie,” Sam said, standing in the doorway.
Charlie walked past him, into the office. The kid sat down, his legs spread apart, his body language giving off hostility.
Sam closed the door and sat across from him.
“We had an appointment, Charlie. For half an hour ago.”
“I know,” the boy said, not looking up from the floor. “I had to take care of something first.”
“Well, that leaves us with a very short session. However, I’ll have to charge your mother for the full hour.”
“Do what you want.”
“I thought you were going to try, Charlie. That you were going to take this seriously.”
“You’re lucky I came at all,” Charlie said.
“It doesn’t matter to me, Charlie. If you don’t want to come here, I can’t make you. This is for your good, not mine.”
Charlie didn’t say anything. Just kept his head down.
“Did you get in a fight, Charlie?”
No answer.
“That’s why you’re late, isn’t it?”
“Why would you ask me that?”
“It doesn’t take a detective, considering your temper is why you’re here. Besides, you’re out of breath, and you seem very agitated.”
“Well, you don’t know shit,” Charlie said. It was almost a whisper.
“I was waiting here for half an hour. I thought you weren’t going to show. And I almost called your home. But I didn’t, do you know why?”
“I don’t care.”
“Because if your mother answered, she would be very upset to hear you were blowing off these sessions, considering how badly she thinks you need them. But I had no intention of letting her know that you weren’t here.”
