by C. L. Stone
“It’s a sound conditioner,” he explained, seeing her confused expression. “It cancels the noise. No one can hear us while it’s on. It’s pretty standard for offices, but especially for counselors or psychiatrists.”
She took another sip of water, remembering there were supposed to be more people present today. “I thought I would meet your team,” she finally ventured.
“You will.” He twisted in the comfortable chair where he sat, picking up a notebook from the floor. “But I need a little more information from you first. We’re meeting for coffee. I thought it’d be less overwhelming that way.”
“Seok is meeting me back here.” It sounded like she needed permission from her boyfriend before meeting people, but she had no way of getting in contact with any of the guys. She didn’t know the landline number, and she had none of their cells.
“I’ll have you back when he gets here.” Not giving her a chance to argue, he launched into his questions. “Okay. Let’s start with the basics. Full name?”
“Honora Amber Leslie,” she answered after a beat.
“Date of birth.”
“October 30th, 1995.”
“Oh!” he remarked, smiling. “You have a birthday soon. I’ll have to remember to sing.”
Appreciating his attempt at kindness, she smiled. He squinted at the next question and then sighed. Taking off his glasses and putting them on his head, he then dug into the pocket of his button-down shirt, pulling out a different set to perch on his nose. “Sorry. Two sets of glasses. I know. I’m old, but I refuse to get bifocals.”
She shook her head. Dr. Murray didn’t look old at all. When she’d first met him, she was surprised to see a guy in his late thirties. She expected a college professor to look a bit more dignified.
Judge much? She winced inwardly at her choice of words.
Dr. Murray could be an action hero. He had dark hair, a little long for a military-style cut, but definitely a cousin to the high-and-tight. He was muscular, though from what she could tell, not as defined as Apollo. He was, after all, wearing a shirt.
Her face flushed. Crappity. Now she was thinking about Apollo’s bare chest.
“There we go.” Glasses in place, he peered at her. “Ready?”
She cracked her knuckles. “Yup.” He is not the police, this is not an interrogation. But her brain disagreed, and her heart pounded. Get out of here. Got to get out of here. It took everything she had to stay in the chair, and not leap over the doctor. She thought she could actually do it, too. She was so flooded with adrenaline, if he stood in her way, muscles or no muscles, she’d get past him.
“Mother’s name?”
“Amber Leslie.”
“Date of Birth?”
“December 3, 1976.”
“Father’s name?”
She answered, and he went on. Eventually, she started to relax. These were simple questions: her race, her ethnicity, her parents’ race and ethnicity. Lulled by the dry nature of his questions, she sat back in the chair, tension draining from her body.
“Date you were placed in foster care?”
Every muscle seized. It was another basic question, sure, but in order to answer, she had to piece together events. She remembered it was the winter, and she was eleven. The social worker met her at the front of the school as she headed for the bus.
Your mom made some unsafe choices, and you’ll live with another family while your mom learns how to make better choices.
“How did you know about that?” she asked. A tiny bead of anger welled inside her. He had her at a disadvantage. This was private, something she hadn’t told him.
The same thing had happened to her when the police interrogated her. Detective Vance had known more about her than she realized. When he questioned her about the school shooting, he flung her past in her face to disarm her and back her into a corner. Now Dr. Murray seemed to be doing the same thing.
“Reid,” he answered, meeting her scowl. “I know you lived with the same family.”
“Oh.” Her foster brother, Reid, had been one of Dr. Murray’s subjects. How much had he confided in the doctor before he died?
From the continuing silence, it was clear he expected her to answer. “Um… December. No. January, 2006.”
“Do you know why?”
She nodded. Please be a yes or no question, please be a yes or no question.
Dr. Murray waited and then, “Tell me why you were initially placed in state custody.”
“My mother sold drugs.”
“How long where you in the foster home?” he asked, writing at the same time.
“That home? Or how long before I went back to my mother?”
He took off his glasses and folded them in his lap. “Do you remember how long you were in that home?”
“Sort of. It’s easier to remember because it’s the first.”
He stuck the notebook between the cushion and arm of the chair, and leaned forward. She hazarded a glance at his face, expecting to see pity etched in his features. Instead, he looked encouraging, and it disarmed her enough for her to answer. “Umm…A month there, and then I went to a cousin’s for a few days, and then to a new foster home when my social worker learned my mom showed up at my cousin’s. Why do you need to know all this?”
“Your past is an important part of who you are and how you shape your personal philosophy.” He walked over to the desk, picking up a folder and handing it to her. “This is your assignment.”
Inside she found a list of questions. “There’s not enough room to write here,” she said without thinking.
“You can type it. Email it to me if you don’t have a printer. We’ll meet again on Monday, have it then.” He perched on the chair, meeting her gaze. “Only a few more questions, Nora.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath, and gripped the arms of the chair with both hands.
“Date of high school graduation?”
Why did these questions leave her off-balance? Earlier, she’d relaxed, and then he threw the curve ball question about her past. Now, she was on edge, her body in fight or flight mode. “Um… June, 2013.”
“Grade point average?”
“3.95.”
“Wow.” He whistled. “I’m impressed. That’s incredible given what you had going on in your life.”
She was proud of how well she’d done in high school. Even if she hadn’t gone on to college, she knew she was smart. “Thank you.”
“Dan?” a deep voice called.
“Sounds like my team is here. Ready?” He shoved his notebook into a backpack resting next to the chair.
Despite feeling awkward and nervous about meeting the people who would soon learn everything about her, she nodded. Smiling encouragingly, he opened the door and led her back down the stairs.
Three people, two men and a woman, waited for them in the reception area. They lounged on the couches, postures relaxed, completely at ease with each other. When they saw Nora, they stood up.
“Nora Leslie, this is Jessica Chase, Nils Gunderson, and Grant Peretti. Everyone, this is Nora, our newest study participant.”
“Nice to meet you, Nora.” Jessica Chase approached her first. She was not much taller than Nora, but willowy with pale skin, a deep cleft in her chin, and dark red hair. She shook her hand firmly, stepping away to make room for the next person. “Please call me Jess.”
“Miss Leslie.” Nils Gunderson was tall and broad shouldered. His long, shaggy-looking hair such a pale blonde it was nearly white.“You can call me Nils.”
He’d barely finished speaking before he was interrupted. “Hello!” Grant Peretti took her hand in a loose-limbed grasp. He was shorter than Nils and Dr. Murray, but wider, and despite his weak handshake, his shoulders stretched the cable knit sweater he wore. “Everyone calls me Grant.”
“Nora still calls me Dr. Murray in her head,” he said, looking at her while he spoke. “I can tell. But they’re doctors, too, you know. If you use their first names, you’v
e got to use mine.”
“Medical, not philosophical.” Jessica raised her hand.
She peered at the other two.
“Guilty,” Nils responded.
“Guilty,” Grant added.
Their purposeful bantering with each other set her at ease. They seem nice. Not at all like people who want to dissect my brain.
“So where are we going?” Dr. Murray handed Nora her sweatshirt.
“Maglinaro’s,” Grant answered right away.
“That’s all the way by the waterfront.” She worried Seok would be waiting around for her.
“I’ll have you back, Nora. Promise.”
Her stomach cramped with worry, but she nodded anyway. This is your job, and sometimes there are parts of your job you don’t like. Did you like cleaning the toilets at Brownington? No. But you did it. This is coffee. Suck it up.
“Okay.” She pasted a smile on her face. “I’ve never been to Maglinaro’s.”
“Oh, you are in for a treat,” Grant said, putting his arm around her shoulders and leading her outside. “I will get you their cappuccino, and a biscotti. It is the only place I go when I’m in town.”
As they led her to a shiny, black SUV and opened the back door, she started to understand why Dr. Murray called these people his team. They worked as a seamless unit, disarming her with their friendliness and a we’re not scary attitude. The four of them kept up a steady, comfortable stream of conversation as they drove down the hill toward the water, and only stopped to order their drinks.
The group seemed content to rib and tease each other, letting her remain silent. They ordered more coffee, and she couldn’t help checking the clock. Thoughtlessly, she took a sip of her cappuccino and winced at the bitterness. She hoped the biscotti would get the taste out of her mouth.
“Do you have any questions for us?” Jessica asked suddenly.
She held up one finger, chewing quickly, and thinking about her question. “I guess… What’s your role? Why do you have so many people working with you?” She glanced at Dr. Murray.
The last question was meant for him, but Jessica spoke first. “We all have our own area of expertise. I am focused on your physical well-being, so I might take your blood pressure, or monitor your heart rate during questioning.”
The way she phrased her answer reminded Nora of Detective Vance, and her stomach churned sourly. The coffee and biscotti threatened to make a reappearance.
“Grant and Nils are both psychologists. Nils is an expert in social behavior, group dynamics, personalities, stuff like that. And Grant is sort of a jack-of-all trades, but his real gift is getting in people’s heads.”
“The study will take years, Nora,” Dr. Murray interjected before she could consider Jessica’s words too deeply. “And I need their help. All our names will go on this paper when we publish it, but it’s too big and unwieldy for me to manage on my own.”
“And it’s all confidential, right?” Her finger worried at her thumbnail, and she bit it, pulling on the skin. Grant’s eyes flashed to her hands and she folded them on the table. He smiled, but it was all too knowing and a little smug.
Biting her nails was a tell, and he caught it.
“Yes. You’re listed as a study participant. I can’t remember, ‘G,’ maybe. No names.”
“Good.”
“Did you get a chance to look at the paperwork?”
The folder Dr. Murray’d handed her was probably on her chair back at the office. She completely forgot about it.
“I grabbed it for you, Nora,” he said, reaching for his backpack. “You left it on the chair.”
“Sorry.” Her first assignment and she left it. Nice.
The first question was a big one. “Are you happy?” There was a box next to the question, and then the word, “Why?”
Each following question was worse than the previous. She skimmed the pages. “What is the meaning of life?” She snorted. “Easy, then.”
The table erupted in laughter. She met Jessica’s wide smile. “Easy,” she agreed.
“Does it make sense to you?” Dr. Murray asked.
“The questions make sense,” she answered. “Yes. I’ll answer them as best I can.”
She glanced at the sheet, and a question jumped out at her, one she glossed over earlier. “Are you in a romantic relationship? If so, describe how you met your significant other. How do you feel about him/her? What do you hope for in your relationship? Where will you be in a year?”
For Nora, these were questions she had herself. How the hell was she supposed to answer them?
****
Grant threw Nils the keys to his car on their way out of the coffee shop. “I know you’ve been dying to drive it.”
He made a sound of agreement, and unlocked the car, rushing a little ahead of everyone.
Finally, she could breathe. In ten minutes, she'd meet Seok. Grant flung his arm around her shoulders as they walked, pulling her a little roughly into his side.
The first time he’d done this, she thought he was trying to include her in their group, put her at ease.
This time was different. Her body tensed, and she knew he could feel it because he squeezed harder the moment she did. She put her hand on his side, attempting to extricate herself, but he held her another moment before letting go. She didn’t like the implication of his touch, as if he was telling her he’d release her when he was good and ready, and not a second before.
“The cappuccino was good, wasn’t it?” he asked, stepping away from her and opening the backdoor.
She couldn’t finish the cup. The few sips she’d taken turned her stomach, and left her feeling dry-mouthed and twitchy. “I don’t know if cappuccino is for me,” she admitted.
Chuckling, he waited for Jessica to get in. She held a hand out to Nora, who realized she wanted help getting into the car. Jessica's fingers wrapped around her hand, lingering on her wrist before she settled herself in place.
“Thanks for joining us.” Dr. Murray turned around from the passenger seat.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, even though she hadn’t had much of a choice.
Nils stepped on the gas hard, and whipped out of the parking lot. The force slammed her into Jessica, who held onto her arm to steady herself. Nils squealed around another corner, blowing through a stop sign before accelerating up the hill.
“Jesus, Nils,” Jessica scolded. “Ease up.”
“I want to see what it can do.” He looked into the rearview mirror, smiling at them.
He flew through the next stop sign as well, and Jessica held onto her arm even tighter.
“The cops are always out here,” Nora warned, hoping to persuade Nils to slow down. “And you have out-of-state plates. You’ll get bagged.”
“I never get caught.” He winked at her, and Dr. Murray laughed.
Even Jessica chuckled. “He never does.”
I’m gonna hurl all over these fancy leather seats.
The street narrowed, parked cars lining both sides. Brownington College’s library was on this street, and students darted back and forth. Nils must have seen them, too, but he didn’t pause. In her mind, she could hear the sound someone’s body would make when it slammed into their windshield. Sweat rolled down her back, and her nails cut into her palms.
The engine revved loudly, and her back pressed into the seat from the force of the acceleration. Her breath came faster, head dizzy, like she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Nils headed right to the busiest part of the road.
Was he trying to hit those kids?
She cried out in warning. Her eyes shut instinctively and she turned her face away from the window shield. Throwing up her hands, her body suddenly slammed forward. Her seatbelt locked, digging into her stomach and sides so hard she yelped in pain.
Slowly, the voices inside the car began to pierce her consciousness.
“It’s okay,” Jessica repeated, her thumb pressed on Nora’s inner wrist. “It’s fine.”
&nb
sp; The engine idled. Nils had stopped well before the library, and kids crossed the street in front of them, no idea they’d been a second from death. Her heart still pounded in her chest. She'd been sure they were about to kill someone.
Turning in his seat, Dr. Murray watched her with an unreadable expression.
Nils and Grant chuckled at each other. “I knew you were going to do that.” He wagged his finger at Nils.
“I couldn’t help it,” he replied, his eyes flashed to hers in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, Nora. I have to do it to everyone.”
Her entire body shook and her teeth chattered. “You’re a jerk,” she replied without thought. “I’ll walk from here.” The car door was locked when she pulled the handle, her clumsy fingers slipping over the button.
“Child safety locks must be engaged?” Nils asked Grant.
“I can’t have kids jumping out the back now, can I?” he laughed. He reached past Jessica, to tap her knee. “Relax. Now you’re really part of the team, we do it to everyone.”
“They really do,” Jessica added. “They’re such boys.”
All she wanted was to leave. Jessica’s explanation didn't excuse them. Her guys would never do pull this sort of prank on her, or on each other. Their team made a full-on, no question, douchebag move.
“Let me out,” she pushed through gritted teeth.
Nils rolled through the stop sign, traveling up the hill at a much more reasonable speed. “We’re almost there. Relax.”
The grip on her wrist started to feel constricting and she took her arm back, crossing it in front of her chest.
“I’m sorry, Nora. I should have warned you,” Jessica said. “You should have seen the prank they pulled on me when I first met them.”
Why couldn’t they shut up? Their apologies were worthless.
“Nora,” Nils called as he drove. “Nora.”
Reluctantly, she met his gaze in the rearview mirror.
“I’m sorry, really. I’m a younger brother, and teasing is in my genes. I apologize.” He may have been sincere, but the damage was done. If he wanted to apologize, fine. But he’d have to work a lot harder before she trusted him.
They’d arrived at the parking lot behind the counseling center, and she was compelled to wait for him to open the door. Her attempt to ignore him as she got out was thwarted when he stopped her with a hand on the arm. “Friends?”
