A Different Kind of Valentine

by K. J. Dahlen

  "There are only so many commercials I can run while you’re out there in the parking lot," he snapped.

  Sara lifted the cell phone back to her ear and sat back in the chair. "Blake, you still with me?"

  "Yeah but not for long."

  "Okay then." She put one of the ear phones up to her free side as Max typed on his computer and the theme music came back on for the show.

  "What’s going on there?" Blake shouted.

  "I’m doing a radio show live," she said. "Okay, welcome back to Mental Health and You," she said into the microphone. "We’re here with romance writer T.R. Stallion. Still there?" she asked.

  "Yeah. I am."

  "IS HE RIGHT THERE?" Blake asked.

  "Yeah, I’m here," T.R. answered.

  "Sorry folks," Sara said into the microphone. "We’ve got an emergency in the background. Ah… someone I know is upset on another line."

  "UPSET AIN’T HALF OF IT," Blake shouted.

  T.R. spoke up at that point. "What‘s the problem?"

  "Can he hear me?" Blake asked. "Put me near the other phone."

  A rumbling started on Blake’s end followed by shouts in the background. The phone dropped.

  "PUT IT DOWN!" Someone shouted. "Grab him Mike," a voice added.

  "What’s going on?" T.R. asked.

  Sara took a deep breath. "Just a minute."

  Someone got on Blake’s phone and they were breathing hard. "Who’s this?" they asked.

  "Dr. Sara Aspen."

  "You the one who called?"

  "Yes."

  "I’m Sgt. Mike Adams with the metro police. We’ve got your friend in custody."

  "Thank you officer." Sara paused again and hit the off button on her cell phone.

  "I need to explain, folks. I’m a practicing therapist and… someone I know was suicidal. He just called with a gun next to his head."

  She looked at the clock and then the computer screen. "I am so sorry for all the interruptions and drama."

  "No problem," T.R. said. "Sure hope your patient is better."

  "This business is full of surprises." Sara took another deep breath. "Let’s see if we have time for more calls."

  Max shook his head in the corner.

  "I’m getting the ‘no’ message. So we’ll leave this until tomorrow night." She stopped. "T.R. will be back with us with more about his experiment."

  "Be glad to," he said into the speakers.

  Max lifted ten fingers and started counting down.

  "I want to thank the 911 staff in town as well as the metro police for their fine job in stopping something that could have been catastrophic," Sara added.

  Max had two fingers up.

  "Thanks again, T.R. Everyone have a good night and remember to take care of yourself."

  The theme music came on. Max got up shaking his head. Sara pulled the head phones off and put her head on the table.

  "Hey, you still there?"

  It was T.R. over the speaker. Sara looked up at Max.

  "It’s on autopilot," he said. "Commercials. No one can hear you."

  "Yeah," she said into the microphone.

  "You okay?" he asked. "That was unexpected."

  "Welcome to my life."

  "What will happen to your patient?"

  Sara closed her eyes and tried to think. "They’ll take him to the behavior unit at the hospital."

  "For what?"

  "Tests. Observation. Treatment. He’ll be there for a while." Her eyes wandered out across the river again. "I better go check on him. It’s just gotten to be…’

  "Too much?"

  "What a night. But thank you for your help, T.R."

  "Sure you’ll be okay? I’m worried about you."

  "I’m glad someone is. But, a… I better go. I’ve got a cat waiting for me at home and it’s late already."

  "No husband or boyfriend?"

  She laughed. "You really are a romantic." Her eyes softened. "But no, only Neil, my cat."

  "Interesting name."

  "It’s short for Neil Young."

  "Good choice," he answered. "The music really was better back then."

  Sara smiled again. "I have certainly enjoyed our time together. I can see why the ladies find you irresistible."

  "I’ll let you go," he finished. "But please do something to take care of yourself. That’s good advice for your listeners--but you need it also."

  "I hear you. Goodnight, T.R."

  He hung up. Sara slapped her forehead. "Blake wanted to meet him." She got up slowly. "Well, that will have to wait."

  Chapter Five

  Darkness reflected off the water and glimmered in waves. T.R. Stallion looked out through the windows of the Bend in the River café and let his thoughts wander.

  He was in the second floor office. It was an attic room with an old desk, faded leather couch, and table that rested against the windows. He sat at that table and let his mind drift like the water that passed his window.

  Don’t go. She’ll know.

  And then what? another voice countered in his mind.

  She’s a therapist. He argued within. She’ll put all the pieces together.

  The thought brought a sudden fear. T.R. could see himself packing up and sailing out on his boat. Back to the silence and openness of the sea.

  Why not spend the rest of your life alone? the voice asked from within. You’ve been hiding for years. It’s nothing new.

  Because she’s different. That makes it worth the risk.

  But what about your readers? What about all those people all across the country? They’ll know you’re a fake.

  T.R. took a deep breath. He wore a knit shirt and old jeans and lifted his truck key. He let it tumble in his fingers.

  She was tired tonight. You could tell that I’m worried about her.

  So you’re just going to make it worse? the voice said inside him. She needs rest, not more games about your identity.

  T.R. imagined himself alone in the hospital hall while Sara walked away in disgust.

  How could you do this to me? she said in his imagination. Why didn’t you tell the truth all along?

  Because I’m in pain, he responded. That’s what it does to you.

  He let the moment linger. The key dropped from his fingers. Another thought came to mind. Sara was alone in the hospital with her head leaning back against the wall. Her eyes were tired and she needed to talk.

  "That does it," he said. "She’s worth the risk. If I lose everything in the process then it was okay."

  And that’s the way he found her--alone in the hospital ER, head back against the wall, the waiting room television on with a commercial about "scrubbing bubbles."

  T.R. walked up and paused. Sara was still in the blue business suit, her eyes closed and arms crossed. No one else was around.

  One breath in, another out. Slow movement from her chest. He took a seat across from her and waited in silence.

  Look at you. Overextended. Exhausted. Helping others and yet--beautiful.

  She opened an eye. Then both. Dark blue--penetrating. "What?" She looked up and stretched. "I remember you from lunch."

  He smiled. "Just passing through and saw you sitting here alone."

  She sat up. "I came down to see a patient." She looked at the clock then yawned. "They were going to check on him and come get me."

  T.R. nodded. "You look tired."

  She let her head rest against the chair again. "I am. This job is too much anymore."

  "You need to take care of yourself."

  She looked at him as if in thought. "Where have I heard that before?"

  He noticed her eyes focus on him. He had Latin features, brown eyes, dark hair that was thick like the day’s growth of beard on his face.

  He pointed up the hall. "What’s the story on your patient?"

  She took a deep breath and sat up. "I haven’t even been home today. This is no way to live."

  "Your cat must be going crazy."

  Sa
ra looked at him again and focused. "How did you know that?"

  You idiot. Now she wonders.

  "You look like someone who would have a cat."

  Sara got up. "Well, I do. And you’re right. He’s like everyone else in my life. They all want attention."

  T.R. got up also. "Well, I better let you get to your--patient."

  They both started up the hall.

  "This is surreal," She mumbled. "I was talking with T.R. Stallion tonight when my patient went ballistic and tried to kill himself."

  He smiled as he walked "I won’t even begin to ask about the details on that one."

  She reached out and touched his arm. "And the odd part is a connection between the two. My patient is a writer and wanted to talk with T.R."

  "Of course the man is busy and can’t be here."

  "They never are when you need something real."

  T.R. smiled at that one. "So the patient will be disappointed on top of the sorrow after trying to end his life."

  "Exactly."

  He stopped. "Then why not let me be T.R?"

  "You’re serious?"

  "Sure. He’ll be drugged up anyway. Besides, I always wanted to be a writer."

  A nurse approached. "The doors are locked on that wing, Dr. Aspen. I’ll take you there."

  Sara paused and lifted a finger at T.R. "Can he come? We won’t stay long."

  "Sure."

  Sara hesitated. "I don’t know about this. There are some things to consider." She stopped in the hall. "Confidentiality. I can’t breach that and let you see him. It’s an ethical thing."

  "But I’m just…" T.R. scrambled for words. "A waiter. Someone passing through. Someone who doesn’t know your patient--or ever will."

  Sara paused. "That’s true. You’re just a--friend. Someone who’s acting on behalf of the therapist."

  T.R. nodded. "An actor."

  Sara smiled and nodded as she continued up the hall. "Sure you’re up for this?"

  T.R. tried to swallow. "You mean pretending to be a romance writer?" His jaw muscles began to quiver in a half smile. Sara was inches from his face. Her blue eyes were trusting and vulnerable. He swallowed again. "I’ll try if it can help."

  Blake was in a bed alone when they walked in the room. It was pale yellow with no furniture except a bed. His arms and legs were strapped down, hair uncombed, eyes upset.

  Sara lifted a hand. "Hello there?"

  Blake looked from one to the other. "Who’s this?"

  "T.R. Stallion," he answered.

  "Yeah? Really?"

  "Wish it weren’t so," T.R. said.

  Blake laughed in a sort of cough. "How’s that?’

  "Wow, where to begin?" T.R. smiled. "It’s that artistic thing where you notice too much."

  "I hear you," said Blake.

  "The emotions are up too loud." T.R. looked down. "It’s unreal."

  "Got that right."

  "I can’t be in normal relationships," T.R. explained. "So I spend a lot of time avoiding people while I wonder why."

  "Too painful," Blake added.

  "You’re right." T.R. looked over at Sara. She was smiling. "But you’re fortunate to have someone like Dr. Aspen."

  Blake let his eyes drift to her. "I just started with her today." He took a deep breath. "Guess I blew everything out of proportion."

  "It’s easy to feel overwhelmed," T.R. said. "Other people don’t realize that."

  Blake softened. His breathing relaxed. He seemed to be caught up in thought.

  T.R. put a hand down to touch him on the arm. "So, listen now. Go easy on yourself, okay? We’re here to get you through this. Things will get better." He stopped. "It’s going to take some work on your part. But you’ll be okay." He pointed a finger at him as if he had a gun. "No more talk about an early end--okay?"

  Blake smiled. "Okay."

  T.R. looked over at Sara. "I’ll be checking with Dr. Aspen to see how you’re doing. And I want to get together after the hospital stay." He stopped again. "There’s a lot we can do to get you back on track."

  Blake pulled at the straps. "I’d shake your hand, but…"

  "No problem. Just get some rest tonight, okay? Things will be better tomorrow."

  "Thanks for stopping by," Blake said. "I really mean it."

  Sara nodded with a hand up as she started out of the room. "I’ll stop by tomorrow," she said.

  T.R. had his head down as they walked up the hall. His steps were fast. Sara hurried to catch up.

  "Well that was quite a display," she said.

  He turned. "I’m sorry. I should have let you talk more."

  "No, it…sounded just like the way, T.R. would have said it."

  She faced him. He took a deep breath. "Listen. I didn’t come here to talk about myself. I mean, we’ve got a cleaning crew at the café now." He took a deep breath again. "I know it’s late. But would you like to stop by for some decaf? I make it with whipped cream. It’s really good."

  Her eyes looked into both of his. "Well, sure…"

  "Good. I’ll meet you there."

  ~ * ~

  The café lights were dim and music came from inside the doors. T.R. waited for Sara as she stepped from her car and approached up the sidewalk.

  "Can you hear that?" he asked. "Allman Brothers. They listen to it all night while they clean up." He pointed at the deck. "Let me get them to turn that down and we’ll sit on the deck." He stopped. "I’ll be right out."

  She nodded and started off to the side.

  "Take one of those lounge chairs," he shouted as he continued up the sidewalk. "It’s a great view of the water."

  She walked slowly. The river was dark with swells from the wind. Autumn was in the air. The season was about to change with a night that could fall cold or hot.

  Sara approached a lounge chair and sat down. She leaned back. Lights faced her from up river like stars overhead. She let her eyes close as the door behind her opened.