Anything For Them

by Lola StVil

  “Aw, don’t worry; you will still have a place in my heart,” he says.

  “Yeah, yeah. I don’t need a place in your heart. What I need is your butt in that classroom next Friday for show-and-tell at 2 PM sharp. Can you do that?”

  “Anything for Aaron and you.”

  “Good. When will you go to London and how long will you stay?”

  “Next month. I have no idea how long I’ll be gone, but hey, like I always say, time is just a concept. I have to go there and listen to the city. I have to immerse myself in the people.”

  “Fine, do what you need to do. Just remember—”

  “I know, I know, show-and-tell next week, Friday. Got it, babe.”

  “Tom—”

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t call you babe. So, is there some lucky guy who does get to call you babe?”

  “None of your business. I have to go,” I reply as I stand up.

  “Hey, what happened to us actually eating lunch?”

  “If you wanted to eat, you should have come at one o’clock, like we planned. I have to get back to work.”

  “Okay, but you’re still paying for the meal, right? I’m starving, and I didn’t bring any cash.”

  Someone shoot me.

  I place a few bills on the table; he stands up and kisses me on the cheek. I roll my eyes at him. He studies me and says, “There is some guy, isn’t there?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I asked, you got this dreamy, faraway look on your face.”

  “There’s no one,” I reply.

  “Hey, whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy.”

  “Good-bye, Tom.”

  “Bye, babe.”

  “Tom!” I scold as I march out the door.

  “I know, I know…”

  ***

  There are times when being an FBI agent can be thrilling and filled with action. But there are also moments of overwhelming boredom, like this one. We’re parked outside of a warehouse run by a well-known mob boss. We’ve been listening for weeks to get something we can use to indict him, but so far, we have nothing. He knows better than to say anything incriminating, but we listen anyway in case someone on his crew slips up.

  I try and keep my mind on the job, but just sitting here in the van, it’s hard not to let my mind wander. It used to be that I would wonder about the raid that happened last month. And while that is never too far from my thoughts, I’ve recently had other things on my mind. I can’t stop thinking about Mia, and it’s really starting to get to me.

  Before we ate together, she was just a really hot woman I wanted to take to bed. But now, it’s more than that. I find myself wanting to know how she’s doing, what she’s doing, and who she’s doing it with. Sometimes, I imagine her playing video games with Aaron and kicking dragon butt. Other times, I picture her having some passion-filled night with Aaron’s dad, whoever he may be.

  Why didn’t I ask her if they were still together? Maybe it’s because I didn’t want to know. I mean, what would I have said if she’d said: “Yes, Aaron’s dad and I are together and deeply in love?”

  What if the father is out of the picture? That doesn’t mean she’s not seeing someone else. Seriously, in what world would a woman like that be single?

  On the one hand, I hate myself for not asking her outright. But on the other hand, I really didn’t want to ruin the evening by learning she wasn’t single. It was nice just to sit and talk to her. I wanted to stay at the bar forever.

  And now I find myself wondering things about her: What makes her laugh until she can’t catch her breath? Why did she become a therapist? What worries or concerns her? What does she like to do when she’s not working? Does she love a night on the town, or is she more of a “night in” kind of girl? She seems like the kind of woman who is always on the go; does she ever make time for herself? Did she eat this morning or was it another frozen Pop-Tart day? Speaking of which, how’s her day going so far? How’s Aaron? What does he like to do aside from playing video games? Is he an active kid or more of a quiet one?

  ARGH!

  “Hey, man, you okay?” my partner, Randy, asks from the passenger seat.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I reply as I try to focus on the warehouse across the street.

  “You sure? You seem a little distracted.”

  “Just been a long day,” I reply.

  “Yeah, I hear you. I met this woman last week, and well, she has a friend in town tomorrow, you wanna join us for a few drinks? If her friend looks anything like the woman I met, you’re in for a treat,” he says.

  “Nah, thanks. I’m gonna lay low this weekend.”

  “That means you already have something else going.”

  “No, not really. I mean…I don’t know. I’m not sure how to read this woman. I want to ask her out but…”

  “Really? You’ve never had an issue asking any woman out.”

  “That’s just it; she’s not just any woman.”

  Most days, I have to go into my son’s room to wake him up. He mumbles something about getting up, only to go deeper under the covers. I then have to go back into his room, pull off the covers, and open the blinds to let the sun peek through the windows. Getting Aaron up on a school day usually takes two or even three attempts. However, this morning, he is the one who wakes me.

  “Mom! Mom! Mom!” he excitedly shouts as he jumps onto my bed and yanks the covers off. I groan and try to roll over, in an attempt to go back to sleep.

  “Mom! It’s today! It’s today!” he says as he turns my bed into his own personal trampoline. I pop one eye open, and the first thing I see is my son’s toothy grin. If he smiles any harder, I think he might actually hurt himself.

  “What’s so special about today?” I ask, pretending that the event of the day slipped my mind. Aaron’s jaw drops. He’s shocked and maybe even a little offended that I could forget today.

  “Mom, it’s open again, it’s open again!” he shouts urgently.

  “I know, sweetie.”

  “Let’s go! Let’s go!” he says, pulling my arm.

  Aaron’s favorite place to go is the New York Aquarium. He can spend the whole day there and never get bored. If we didn’t go at least once a month, he’d complain.

  The exhibit begins with a tunnel that makes you feel like you’re embraced in a coral reef. It’s a twelve-gallery exhibit with more than two hundred marine species, including sea turtles, stingrays, and sharks. There are three different kinds of sharks, but his favorite is the sand tiger shark; it is over ten feet long and weighs more than two hundred pounds. They also designed a portion of the exhibit to look like a shipwreck. There are some portals and glass tunnels that the kids can crawl through and play around in.

  The aquarium has been closed for a few weeks now for repairs. My little guy was so disappointed. It’s as if he feared that the animals would feel slighted if he didn’t stop by to see them. So now, after waiting for what seemed like forever, the aquarium is reopening. And it’s not enough that we go on opening day. My kid wants to be among the very first in line.

  I had initially told him that we could go after school, but it turns out his school is closed today for faculty development day, meaning the teachers will be in meetings all day. So, I moved my appointments around and thought we would make a day of it. Some part of me wanted to ask Tom to join us; I think Aaron would have liked that. But since he’s getting ready to show his work in London, I figure he’ll be busy. And besides, Tom already agreed to come to show-and-tell at the end of the week, so Aaron will get to spend some time with him later on.

  “C’mon, young lady!” Aaron says, clearly mocking the way I habitually call out to him when he won’t get up.

  “Alright, alright. Why don’t you go wash up, and I’ll make breakfast?” I reply, willing myself to sit up.

  “I know what we can have for breakfast, Mom!” he says. Before I can ask what he wants to eat, he’s already zoomed out of my bedroom and down the hall. He comes back
moments later with a blue box in his hand. He holds it up proudly and grins.

  “Mac ’n’ cheese for breakfast?” I ask.

  He signals for me to look closer. “Oh, I see. Shark shaped mac ’n’ cheese.” He nods and raises his eyebrows like a silly villain in a cartoon.

  “Okay, kid, you got it!” I reply.

  “Yes!” he says as he begins his silly dance around the room.

  “There’s one condition,” I warn.

  “Oh no! What?” he says, deflated.

  “I have to stop by my office—I won’t work, but there are some files I have to get. And you have to promise to sit in the waiting room—quietly—while I make a few calls. And then we can go. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  ***

  Although I won’t be taking appointments today, I’m not surprised to see Argo at his desk. He likes to come in when the office is closed, to go over his filing system and make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be. I am, however, surprised to see him on crutches with his right ankle bandaged.

  “Argo, what happened to your foot?” Aaron asks before I get the chance.

  Argo doesn’t look us in the eye. Instead, he focuses on the stack of papers in front of him. Then he mumbles something about basketball. Aaron and I look at each other in disbelief. Argo has never touched a basketball in his life. He looks up at us and sees that we are not buying his excuse.

  “What? I told you two; I was playing a very challenging game of basketball. I had to get the ball into the circle thing. It was all very dramatic, and that’s how I twisted my ankle,” he lies.

  “Argo, did you hurt yourself doing karaoke again?” Aaron asks.

  “No!” he says too quickly.

  “Argo…” I scold.

  “Alright, alright, fine! It was yet another karaoke-related injury,” he concedes.

  “Argo!” Aaron and I reply at the same time.

  “Hey, don’t judge. I did what I had to do to hold onto my title.”

  “Why can’t you just sing and call it a day?” I ask, not for the first time this month.

  “Just sing? Are you crazy? You can’t just sing a Rihanna song. You gotta move. And that’s what I did. I worked my little butt all around the stage. Until I ran out of…stage. I tumbled down some steps, and before I knew it...”

  Aaron and I try our best to suppress a smile. But soon we are both laughing at him. Argo says, “I hate you both!” but he’s laughing along with us.

  “Is this a bad time? Or a really good time?” someone says from the doorway.

  Jackson.

  My heart is now running a marathon. It’s no longer happy staying inside my chest. It is trying to break free and run across the street. I swallow hard, and my stomach dips.

  “Hi,” I reply, trying to sound lighthearted and casual.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you; Jackson called and said he would stop by,” Argo mumbles. I glare at him and make a mental note to kill him later. Argo’s reading my mind and knows that I will end his life. But Argo doesn’t care; he’s too busy enjoying the thick tension in the room.

  “Hi! I’m Aaron. Who are you?” my son says as he cranes his neck to look up at Jackson.

  “I’m Jackson, nice to meet you.” The two of them shake hands.

  “I heard about you—you must be the Dragon Master champion. I heard you’re really good at that game.”

  “Yeah, but I had to try a lot of times,” Aaron replies.

  “Well, I try too, but so far, it’s not working. Maybe you can give me a few tips sometime?” Jackson says.

  “Yup! I know where all the secret doors are and the fruit that has the coins inside. I can show you.”

  “That would be great!” Jackson replies.

  Then Aaron spots something at Jackson’s waist. His mouth drops open. He whispers, “Is that a gun?!”

  “Yes, it is,” Jackson says.

  “Are you a police officer?”

  “Yes. I’m an FBI agent,” he says.

  Aaron turns to look at me. His little eyes are about to pop out of his head. He’s so excited he can barely stand it. “Can I touch it?”

  “No, it’s not a toy. Guns are very serious and should never be played with,” Jackson counters.

  “That’s what my mom says. She won’t even let me get games with guns in them,” he grumbles.

  “I think that’s smart of her.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” he says as he shrugs. “Did you arrest anyone today?!”

  “I did.”

  “Really? For what?” Aaron begs.

  “It was a kid about your height. He had red hair and blue-green eyes.”

  “You arrested him for that?”

  “Yup. That’s against the law.”

  “No, it’s not!”

  “Yes, it is, Aaron. Jackson might be here to arrest you,” Argo replies, trying to stay serious.

  “No, my mom wouldn’t let you do that,” Aaron says as he folds his arms across his chest.

  “Your mom’s pretty tough, huh?” Jackson asks as he kneels down in front of Aaron.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, then I guess I can’t arrest you.”

  “Nope,” Aaron smugly says.

  “Too bad, I was gonna let you sit in the cop car and play with the sirens,” he teases.

  “Mommy! Can he arrest me, please?” Aaron says, unable to stand still.

  I look over at Jackson and playfully scold him, “You are an awful role model.”

  He laughs and then turns his attention back to Aaron. “I tell you what, I’m gonna check in with your mom, and if she tells me that you are behaving, I think we can arrange a ride in the car—without having to arrest you.”

  “Really?!”

  “Yeah, I think we can do that,” Jackson says.

  “Cool, thanks!”

  “Aaron, I’m headed to the vending machine, do you wanna come?” Argo asks as he takes his crutches and heads for the door.

  “Are you gonna be here when I get back?” Aaron asks.

  “Yeah, I will,” Jackson says as he holds the door open for Argo. Now that they are gone, it’s just the two of us in my office—alone. That both thrills and terrifies me.

  “That’s a really cool kid you got there,” he says.

  “Yeah, I think I’m gonna hang onto him for a while,” I joke. “I’m sorry; I didn’t have you down for a session. Did I miss something?” I ask.

  “Ah, no. We don’t have a session.”

  “Oh, okay. Did you come to make an appointment?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Jackson, I signed off on you going back to work because I thought you were a little more open to therapy. I know you hate it but—”

  “I’m not saying that I won’t go to therapy. I’m saying I don’t want you to be my therapist.”

  His rejection shouldn’t sting, but it does. In fact, it’s a lot more than a sting. It feels like he stabbed me in the chest. That’s crazy. I remind myself that it’s not personal and that not every therapist is a fit for every client.

  “Hey, don’t do that,” he says as he studies my face.

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t look so down, gorgeous. I don’t want you to be my therapist because I want to ask you out.”

  “Oh,” I reply as the hairs on the back on my neck stand up. I feel goosebumps make their way down my arms.

  “So…what do you think?”

  “We’ve already had a session, and that makes me—”

  “I’ve never been here before,” he says.

  “What? You were here a few days ago,” I remind him.

  “Me? Nope. Never. I was on my way to work, I work in the FBI office across the street, and I saw you. I thought, ‘Wow, she’s breathtaking.’ I came to ask you out. So, is this your office? What do you do here?” he says as if it’s the first time we’ve met.

  “That’s not funny, Jackson. I can’t date a client.”

  “How can I be a client if I have never
met you before today?”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Okay, your assistant can clear this up,” he says as Aaron and Argo return.

  “Hi, welcome to Dr. Samuels’ office. I’m Argo. How can I help you?” Argo says to Jackson.

  “Your boss seems to think that I have been here before. Is that the case?” Jackson asks Argo.

  Argo goes over to his desk and looks over the appointment book. “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Jackson Hunter.”

  “No, I don’t believe you have ever been here, sir.”

  “Argo,” I warn as I walk over to the desk and look at the calendar myself.

  “Oh, so you two have cooked this up so that it looks like we never met. Very funny. But we did meet,” I reply.

  “I’m sorry, what’s your name again…” Jackson asks me.

  “It’s Dr. Mia Samuels,” I reply while shaking my head.

  “Well, Mia, I’d love to take you out if you’re up for it. I would ask you out right now, but I have other plans. You see, all morning I’ve been thinking about sea turtles and sharks. But I’m not sure where I should go to see them. Any ideas?” he says.

  “Mom, he can come to the aquarium with us!” Aaron says. “Can he, Mom, please?!”

  I glare at Argo. I’m sure he had a nice long chat with Jackson on the phone before he came over here. Damn them both.

  “Aaron, honey, stay with Argo while I talk to Jackson for a few moments in my office.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  I signal for Jackson to follow me into my office. Once he’s inside, I close the door behind us.

  “Jackson…”

  “Okay, before you object to us going on a date, you should know one thing,” he says.

  I sigh heavily. “What is it?”

  “No amount of therapy, drugs, or treatment can make me feel as good as I do when I’m standing in the same room with you. You don’t have to say yes to going on a date with me, but don’t break my heart and say no.”

  She’s torn. I can tell by the way she won’t look at me. I never wanted to put her in this position. I didn’t want to push her. When I called her office this morning and Argo picked up, I took a chance. And while I’m sure he would never betray her confidence, I figured I’d at least get an update on her status. When he told me she was single, I was relieved.