I did my best to concentrate, despite my meager mental abilities, and managed to get the emotional din around me down to a tolerable buzz. Having shields up isn’t really like putting on a coat and forgetting about it. Sometimes, especially if I’m tired, hungry, or distracted, it’s like having to hold an umbrella with a lead handle up above my head. Inevitably it’s gonna slip and I’m gonna get drenched.
“I wasn’t messing with you,” Mel said, setting down his coffee and turning back to me. “I really do need you act like my wife.”
“Don’t I already? We don’t have sex, I don’t cook for you, and I’m always nagging you to go bother someone else. Sounds like the perfect sitcom marriage to me.”
Mel ignored my comments, forging ahead as if I’m not a comedic genius.
“I’m investigating a shady marriage counselor.”
“And you need me to tell you if he’s on the level?”
“Sort of. Everyone at the center has all the necessary credentials but the families who hired me said that this couple went in just to work on their communication and then called home to say, ‘You can keep our worldly possessions, we’re moving in with the doc!’ It’s hinky, and—”
“Called home?”
“Yeah. They’re—”
“No, I mean, what do you mean they called home? Like, from his—wait is this a person or a company?”
“Oh, it’s like a…it’s sort of a sleepaway camp for couples. Some people go in just for counseling here and there, but they also have a two-week-long course that really goes into the nitty gritty of a relationship. It’s very involved.”
“And just like that, they’re supposed to be fixed and happy?”
“No, it doesn’t promise anything that miraculous. It’s—look, I skimmed the brochure and looked mainly at the background—financials, criminal history of the employees, that sort of important stuff.”
“If it’s a joint that’s claiming to save a marriage, I’d say it’s pretty damned important whether or not it can deliver.”
“Not to us, not now. Now it’s important whether or not this place is killing people or brainwashing them and shipping them off to some ranch in the middle of nowhere Montana or something.”
“Hey,” I said, prickling with insult now, as well as Mel’s irritation with me. “Montana’s nice.”
“You’re just missing my point.”
“And you’re ignoring my question! Are they promising to fix everything with campfires and a trust fall here and there, or what?”
“I’ll give you the brochure and you can read it later, got it?”
I rolled my eyes, wanting to fight with Mel some more just out of habit. The two-week course wasn’t a bad idea, exactly: force bickering couples to spend a lot of time together and make sure they have constant access to a therapist to tell all their problems to. It could help, I knew, though like all therapy it had to be something the couples were actually interested in working through.
As a therapist myself, I’d had no shortage of clients who really just wanted to pay me to tell them they were right and everyone around them was wrong. I had a particularly difficult older woman in once a week doing exactly that.
Presumably, anyone willing to pack some luggage and go sleep in a strange bed really did want to work on life problems, though. I still would have bet some of the couples came out of the two weeks just as angry at each other but with much depleted bank accounts, but I could see it helping more than its fair share of people at least seek further help or realize they were headed for divorce in the end.
“Is that good enough?” Chloe asked, though her focus was on the girl at the table behind Mel. I wondered if Chloe had picked out that she wasn’t human, or if she just thought she was cute and was considering chatting her up.
“It’s…fine. I was just thinking about the whole idea is all,” I said. “It’s not unprecedented. I just can’t imagine spending twenty-four-seven with any of my patients.”
“I don’t think there are many people who could spend twenty-four-seven with you, either,” Chloe said, patting my thigh. I glowered her way, but Mel jumped in before I could bitch.
“The families who hired me, they’re thinking this might be some sort of cult. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, though the place isn’t on any sort of watch lists or anything. People who check in check out, it’s just that some of them happen to abandon their home lives before disappearing into the ether.”
“Just like that? One phone call and Goodbye Blue Sky?”
“Well, legal documents have changed hands and property has been gifted—so on and so forth—but it’s all done through intermediaries. Since the phone call, no one can get ahold of the missing couple. Let me repeat: this isn’t the first time it’s happened, either. It’s a bad situation and I want to help if something’s truly wrong.”
“Why do we need to pretend to be married? Let’s just head over there now and I can tell you if anything’s up.”
“It’s not really an afternoon drive sort of thing. It’s a retreat over on Harstine Island.”
I blinked, trying to figure out if I’d heard of the place. Mel let me have a few seconds of silent staring before he answered my unasked question.
“It’s not too far. I can drive us, we can leave Monday. We’ll have to convince them we even need the help, too. They won’t let me snoop just for the hell of it, which is why I need you.”
“That’s in two days. I can’t call every one of my clients and—”
“I already rescheduled everyone. All you need to do is pack,” Chloe said.
“You knew about this!” I accused, poking her in the arm. She shrugged, jerked her thumb back toward Jenny behind the counter.
“Of course, why do you think I set up your mocha and cake to get here right at the moment it would put you in the best mood to agree to go out of town with Mel for a week and pretend to be his wife?”
Mel let out a bark of a laugh at her admission and I felt the glee hissing out of him like a busted steam pipe full of radioactive bees. Not only had she dragged me here under the pretense of just grabbing a drink, but she’d known what Mel was asking and how to make sure I’d say yes. I bet she’d know about the cupcake orgasms before too and just refused to share the knowledge or chocolate with me.
“You bitch,” I whispered, my offense making Chloe laugh. Leaving us to fight it out, Mel got to his feet, arms akimbo.
“I’m off, but I’ll give you a call Sunday night to make plans.”
“You’re paying for my hotel while we’re out there. Separate rooms!”
“Lodging is already handled, don’t worry. I’ll get your food, too.”
“And cupcakes.”
“Yes,” he sighed, shaking his head. His hands dropped off his hips as if he was beaten down by my dogged pursuit of sweets. “And cupcakes. Jeez, don’t you trust me to keep my word?”
“Not as far as I can throw you. Now get out, I’ve got a headache.”
“You know what’s a great cure for a—”
“Shut up I hate you,” I spat out in one quick breath. Mel shook his head at my behavior, deciding not to take our squabbling for another go-round. It wasn’t really his style, but maybe he was starting to think of us as friends as well.
What the hell is the world coming to?
“Talk to you later. Thanks, Chloe,” Mel said, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet, peeled a fifty off the fan of bills clipped in the center and tossed it down on the table. I considered pocketing it and calling it payment for emotional distress, but figured it was probably best to leave it for Jenny.
##
Once Chloe and I were outside and I was sure Mel was gone, I gave her arm a little slap.
“What are you getting out of all this?”
“Other than a week off? Not much.”
I squinted at her, not entirely trusting her words, despite the fact that I could read honesty off of her. Chloe seems overly fond
of shoving Mel and me together at every opportunity and, while I was sure it was mostly friendly ribbing, sometimes I wondered if it was more. Before I got the chance to demand once again to know if he was paying her or blackmailing her, I felt a bubble of surprise burst inside her, like she’d just thought of something important and couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized it earlier.
“I almost forgot! I’ll bring Sonny to my place while you’re gone, so get me care instructions, okay?”
“Oh yeah,” I said, the thought of my happy pet sun Conure softening my anger a bit. “Will he be safe there with the cat?”
“Trust me, Poopy has no interest in hurting your bird. They’ll probably be good friends. She’s a cat, but she’s the least cat-like cat I’ve ever met.”
“That’s true,” I said, thinking of how Poopy didn’t fill me with mortal terror like most felines. “Though, I’d rather not risk a face to face encounter, if you don’t mind. Sonny’s cage is pretty big, are you sure you can get it over there?”
“You don’t have a travel cage?”
“I don’t go anywhere, what would I need with that?”
“Of course. If it’s trouble, we can get a smaller one for the week. I’m sure someone on Craigslist or something has one they don’t want. I’ll check it out tonight. Barring that, we’ll make Mel carry it. He can take his shirt off and you can oil him down and then we can ogle while—”
“Shut up,” I said, shaking my head as if I could get the image she’d created in my mind to erase like an Etch-a-Sketch.
“Don’t pretend you won’t be coming back to that thought later,” she teased. As I stared at the ground trying to relax my scrunched up expression, she reached out and poked me in the shoulder. “You should go pack!”
“I have two days. I don’t need to pack yet.” Chloe just sighed.
“Well, don’t leave it to the last minute. You might forget the necklace.”
I stared at her blankly, not realizing what she meant. When she remembered I tend to miss the obvious, she snorted.
“You know, Merrin’s necklace? No way you’ll stay sane around Mel for a week without it.”
“Oh god,” I groaned. “He’s just going to use it as an excuse to never stop hitting on me.”
“Hey, maybe you’ll get lucky!”
“Stop,” I warned. Chloe laughed and shook her head.
“No, I was gonna say, maybe some of the other women will be there because they can’t stop cheating on their husbands with guys just like Mel!”
“Your mouth to God’s ear.”
##
The weekend went by way too fast, making me think the universe was out to get me. All I want in life is to sit in comfortable clothes, surf the internet and eat junk food. I know I’m not alone in this, so why hasn’t science made this profitable yet?
Stupid science.
I stood over my bed, staring down at the empty duffle bag I’d pulled out for packing. I was at a total loss as to what to put in the damn thing. What does one wear to pretend to be married to a person one mildly loathes? Sweat pants and a stained shirt? Had them, loved the idea, couldn’t bring myself to actually pull it off. Jeans and t-shirts seemed a good bet, but did it send the message to this marriage counselor that I didn’t care about my appearance? Somehow, despite the fact that we were only pretending to be married to find out if there were dastardly deeds afoot, I still found myself worried I would be blamed for any marital troubles Mel cooked up to get us in the front door.
Assuming we even got in the front door. Mel had said something about having to convince these possible lunatics they wanted us to join their weird cult in the first place. How the hell was I supposed to prepare for that?
Mel is a charming, good-looking, smooth-talking, snappy dresser who gets along with everyone (even empaths who can barely stand to be in his presence, apparently). I like to stay home in a stained shirt and eat cake alone. Anyone looking us over would probably wonder if the marriage had been arranged.
Somehow this thought made planning easier.
“Jeans and Ts it is,” I said to no one as I spun on my heel and padded toward the closet. I yanked out four pairs of jeans, a pair of fancier pants for good measure, and six shirts chosen at random. I looked over my nicer shirts for a moment before plucking a mustard yellow blouse with some beading along the collar that Chloe had gotten me. It would go with all the pants, and that was about all I was concerned about.
I hummed and danced back to the bed, plopped the clothes down and paused with my hand on a hanger as my phone rang. Was that Mel already? I didn’t want to talk to him, but I answered without looking at the number. It was just as well; I wouldn’t have recognized it anyway.
“Hey,” I said, tucking the phone against my shoulder as I slid a pair of pants off the hanger.
“Hey Chipmunk,” my baby brother said. I froze, unsure if I was irritated at the nickname or overjoyed to hear from him.
“Thom!” I exclaimed, settling on joy. “Where are you?”
“Back home, actually.”
I went silent, panic firing through me. When I didn’t say anything immediately, Thomas started chuckling. It was low and teasing, making me sigh when I realized he was trying to get a rise out of me. As his laughter died off, I dropped the pants I’d just folded on top of the duffle bag and turned to head down the hall to my office.
“Don’t worry, Dad’s not here.”
“I didn’t ask,” I said.
“Yeah, because you know better.”
I ignored his comment, true as it was. “They’re doing well?”
“Yeah, they’re great. Mom dragged him out grocery shopping so I could sleep, but I thought I’d call you while they were gone.”
“Smart kid,” I said as I dug through the top drawer of my desk for my Bluetooth headset. I finally found it under a candy bar wrapper that had maybe half a bite of chocolate-caramel goodness left. I didn’t remember leaving it there, but the only other candy-eater in my house never left anything partially eaten, so it must have been me. Thomas didn’t even seem to notice when I went, “ooh,” and stuck the old candy in my mouth.
Dusty but decent.
“How long are you in Montana?” I asked with my mouth full of caramel.
“Probably for awhile this time. I was in Poland and I just suddenly decided I wanted to come home.”
“Well that’s sweet,” I said, tucking my phone into my pocket. Thomas started talking about the places he’d been since the last time we’d spoken and I got to finishing my packing, forcing myself to check the list Chloe had made up for me so I wouldn’t forget underwear or deodorant. While I wasn’t trying to impress Mel on this trip, it still seemed like a good idea to be presentable instead of stinky.
“Mom, of course, freaked out as soon as I got home. She’s convinced I have the plague or some form of Polish leprosy—which I don’t think is a thing, but mom wouldn’t listen. She made me go straight to the doctor and get tested for everything from Ebola to vitamin D deficiency.”
I laughed but it did all make me miss my mother and feel like a terrible daughter.
“Well, let me know if you’ve caught Polish Ebola or German leprosy, okay?”
“Oh, of course. You’ll be the first.”
“What are you plans now that you’ve been poked and prodded?”
“I’m just staying here in my old room for a bit until I find an apartment.”
“Who’s gonna give you a place?” I sneered. “You haven’t had a job in three years.”
“It’ll be fine, I think.”
For Thom, it probably would. I’d long been convinced that he got a power like I got mine, but that his was much better. He is incredibly lucky. Almost everything goes his way, up to and including winning the lottery the first time he’d played at the ripe, old age of eighteen. He’d spent the next two years seeing the world, never staying in one place for too long. I couldn’t really be too jealous; he’d been very generous with his winnings.
> “How’s the business?” he asked.
“Pretty good. If I still had student loans, I’d probably be close to paying them off,” I said as I zipped up my bag and crossed the last of my things off my packing list.
“That’s pretty cool. Sonny’s good?”
“Yeah. He knows Morse code, now,” I said off-handedly. It was another thing the candy thief that had been invading my space for the better part of a year had left as a surprise for me.
“Why’d you teach him that?”
I sighed, shaking my head. “I didn’t, but it’s a really long story.”
Making my way to the kitchen, I considered my options, staring at leftovers in the fridge, boxed pasta in the cabinets, and frozen food that was easily microwavable. Taking the lazy way out, I grabbed the leftover box taking up the entire middle shelf of the fridge and wondered if people actually like cold pizza or if they just tell themselves they do because it’s easier than trying to warm it up. Dropping it on my dining table, I slid into one chair and propped my legs up on another.
Thomas didn’t comment when I chomped into a slice and spoke with my mouth full. “What’re Mom and Dad up to?”
“The same. Mom’s taking all sorts of classes to cook better—”
“Impossible,” I said, thinking about the fact that even vegetables were palatable when my mother had made them. Thomas let out a soft laugh, continued.
“Knitting, gardening, aerobics. She keeps pretty busy.”
“And Dad?”
“Well, what do you do? That’s probably what dad does. You two are the same person.”
“That’s not—” I cut off as my phone vibrated. I dug it out of my pocket, frowning when I saw Mel was calling. I let it go to voicemail and tucked the phone back in my jeans. Almost as soon as I did, the phone started ringing again. Unsurprised by my half-argument and confused silence, Thom pushed on.
“If I’m not flying everyone out until the holidays, I should come out there before then. Maybe I’ll hold off getting an apartment and come soon,” Thomas mused as I ordered my phone to ignore Mel. If only doing so in real life was as easy.
Cold Feet (Empathy in the PPNW Book 3) Page 2
