Cement Heart

by Beth Ehemann

  I sat and listened closely, more interested in her story than I would ever admit to being.

  “In college, I joined a running club, which kept me on the straight and narrow. After three semesters of forcing myself to pretend I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher, I couldn’t fight it anymore and switched my major to sports psychology. I eventually got my master’s degree and started at the bottom in a private practice. I was forced—well, obligated—to quit that job and decided to start my own practice. So here I am.”

  Curiosity killed the Viper.

  “Why were you forced to quit?” I couldn’t help it. I was captivated by her and the story she was telling me.

  “I started sleeping with my boss.”

  Whoa. Not what I was expecting.

  “For real?”

  “Yeah, but it’s okay. We’re engaged now.” She laughed, holding up her left hand. I was surprised she could lift it with that huge fucking rock on her ring finger.

  “Congratulations.”

  A big smile spread across her face. “Thanks. The point of me telling you all this is I wanted you to know that I’m not perfect. I’m not perfect, and I won’t judge you. I’m not a typical therapist in that I don’t follow a pattern with my clients. They’re all different, and they all require different things from me. Also, and I want you to really hear me say this, anything—every single thing—you say to me in this room stays in this room. I don’t talk about it with friends, my fiancé, no one. It’s between you and me and Muhammad Ali.” She nodded toward the large black and white picture of the legendary boxer on the wall. “I expect the same courtesy in return. Anything I say to you or tell you about myself doesn’t go past you. Got it?”

  I nodded like a stubborn toddler who’d just met his match.

  “I demand respect and I will give it back, but what I won’t do is let you bullshit me. I’m going to piss you off and push you out of your comfort zone. Often. But that’s my job. That’s how this works. That’s how you move forward.”

  Grabbing the water bottle off of the coffee table, I cracked it open and gulped until the whole thing was gone.

  “I’m assuming that means you agree?” She laughed again. “Now, tell me a little about you.”

  I took a huge breath and held it for a second, finally exhaling slowly. I’d never had anyone that I could completely open up to before. The thought of spilling my guts to this woman was both terrifying and tempting. More than anything, I wanted someone I could tell everything to and be myself around without fear of judgment or someone spilling their guts to the media.

  Baby steps, Viper.

  “Well, you already know my name. I’m not sure what else you want to know.”

  “Okay, how about I ask you questions and you answer them?”

  “All right.”

  She stood and walked back to the fridge, grabbing another water bottle. “How long have you played hockey?”

  “Professionally?”

  “Sure.” She shrugged as she set the bottle down in front of me.

  “Eight years.”

  “And not professionally?”

  “Uh… since I was about ten.”

  “Why hockey?”

  I pressed my lips together and scratched my chin. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said. Why hockey? Why not baseball or golf or something else?”

  “First of all, golf isn’t a sport. And B, I got into a lot of fights as a kid, so my parents figured if I was gonna fight regardless, might as well do it on the ice.”

  She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side. “Why did you fight?”

  “I had to.”

  “Why?”

  “Next question.”

  Clearing her throat, she rested her chin on her hand and her elbow on the arm of the chair, not saying a word. “I’m gonna let that go—for now—but I can absolutely tell there’s something there, so we will revisit it.”

  Good luck with that.

  “Whatever.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Why don’t you tell me about your relationships?”

  “Elaborate, please.”

  “Your relationships, with people. Whoever you want to tell me about. Your family. A girlfriend. Maybe a boyfriend?”

  If looks could kill, she would’ve been a corpse. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” I glared. “And I don’t have a girlfriend either.”

  “Really?” Her body stiffened as her head jerked back slightly. “No girlfriend? With all that charm?”

  “Ha ha, very funny.”

  “Okay, okay. Forget boyfriends and girlfriends. You have to love someone. Everyone does. Tell me about the most important person in your life.”

  I didn’t hesitate with that answer; there was no need to think about it. “My grandma.”

  She squinted at me without saying a word.

  I held my hands up defensively. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She continued staring at me with narrowed eyes. “I’m just trying to decide if you’re being a smart-ass or if you’re telling me the truth.”

  “Here’s the thing. You want respect and I’ll give that to you. I also will never lie to you. I hate liars. Loathe them, actually. I don’t mean stupid little ‘Sure, I’ll call you in the morning’ lies, but like real ones. If you ask me a question and I don’t want to answer it, I’ll tell you. If I want to answer it, I will.”

  “Fair enough.” She nodded once. “Now tell me about this grandma of yours.”

  I couldn’t help but smile when I thought about my grandma. “Well, I call her Gam, actually. When I was little, I couldn’t say Grandma so I called her Gamma, and over time, the end just fell off, so now she’s Gam. Anyway, she’s my father’s mother and my only real family. I love her more than anything.”

  “Wow.” She bit the corner of her lip as she smiled at me, her dark brown eyes sparkling. “I’m pleasantly surprised. If you’d given me ten guesses, I don’t know that I ever would have pegged you as a grandma’s boy.”

  Nodding, I smiled back. “I’ll wear that label proudly.”

  “Good, you should. Tell me more about her.”

  “Well, she’s old… and sarcastic as hell. She drinks more whiskey than anyone I know and yells at squirrels all day long. She’s a trip.”

  “Sounds like it.” She laughed. “And you’re closest to her? What did you mean your only ‘real family’? Have the rest all passed on?”

  I shook my head. “No, my parents are both still alive, but I’m an only child. Once you have perfection, why try to duplicate it, right?”

  “Oh, naturally,” she agreed sarcastically. “So wait… your parents are both alive, yet you said your grandmother was your only ‘real family.’ What does that mean?”

  “Next,” I barked.

  “Fine. Let’s talk about your relationships with females. Have you ever been married?”

  “Fuck no!”

  “Do you ever want to be married?”

  “Yes. The minute Mila Kunis dumps that arrogant asshole, Ashton Kutcher, I’m going to propose to her. If that never happens, I guess I’m destined to be a bachelor forever.” I stuck my bottom lip out and pouted at her dramatically.

  “Okay, let’s try that again, with less sarcasm this time.”

  “Okay… then the answer changes to no, I don’t want to be married.”

  She tilted her head to the side and crossed her arms. “Why?”

  “The thought of waking up with the same woman every day for the rest of my life makes my fucking skin crawl. I can’t stand most women for more than twelve hours, let alone a significant amount of time.”

  “So you’ve never had a serious girlfriend?”

  “I lived with a girl once, but I was never faithful to her, so I don’t consider that serious. And I have one friend who I fucked regularly for over a year. Does that count as serious?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “Did you love her?”

  “As a friend. Not like that.”

 
“Why not?” she pushed.

  “It wasn’t like that with me and Darla. She was like one of the guys, just with bigger tits and a hotter ass. She didn’t want commitment and she didn’t push me to give her more than I wanted to.”

  “Do you still see her?”

  I bounced my head back and forth, left to right, as I thought about that question. “Kinda, when our whole group is together, but not on a one-on-one basis. She started seeing someone, so that’s done.”

  “Okay, interesting. Tell me about this group.”

  “Why does this feel like an interview?”

  “It kind of is.” She grinned. “I’m just asking questions, trying to get a feel for who Lawrence Finkle really is.”

  I chuckled. “When you find out, let me know, okay?”

  “Come on, we’re getting there. Don’t fizzle out on me now. Tell me about your friends, this group.”

  “There’s just a group… of people… I hang out with. There’s not much to tell. We haven’t seen each other much lately.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged.

  “Hey, Pinocchio, you just lied to me again,” she said sternly. “You promised never to do that.”

  Holy fuck.

  “Things have just been different lately.”

  “I’ve let you blow me off twice now. This time I’m pushing. What’s different and why?”

  “One of the members of the group passed away.” A huge lump formed in my throat. I did not want to talk about what had happened with a stranger, and as much as she was talking to me like we were, we weren’t friends.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her tone was soothing and her face softened.

  “So, anyway, it’s just kinda changed the dynamic now. I don’t know if they all hang out a lot or what, but I haven’t gone if they do.”

  “Wait.” She turned her head to the side and looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Someone dying shouldn’t make you want to leave the group. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Do it. Tell her. Rip the fucking bandage off.

  “I killed him.”

  “You killed him?”

  I stared down at the coffee table, not wanting to make eye contact with her, and nodded. “Yep.”

  She sat up straight in her chair, her eyes glued to me as she processed what I’d just said.

  “What do you mean you killed him?”

  “He was a teammate and we were playing a game, one on one. He was winning and I am too competitive. The game got more physical than it should have, and as he was about to score the winning goal, I checked him from behind. He slid into the boards really hard and all hell broke loose in his brain. He died a couple days later.”

  Her hand shot up and laid flat at the base of her neck as her mouth fell open. “Wow. I am so sorry, Viper.”

  “Needless to say,” I continued, “I haven’t hung out with that group much lately, because, you know… it’s awkward.”

  “Okay, I get that, but you didn’t kill him. It was an accident.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.” I leaned forward and snatched the extra water bottle off the table.

  As I cracked the bottle open a light bulb near the door turned on, distracting both of us.

  “Shit.” She looked down at her watch. “That’s my next client. And we were just getting into something.”

  “Oh no we weren’t.” I stood up and took my keys out of my pocket. “That’s something we never have to talk about again.”

  “Fat chance,” she argued. “I want you to come back tomorrow, okay?”

  “Fine,” I agreed, “but not before ten o’clock. This early shit is for the birds.”

  She walked back over to her desk and pulled her calendar out. “Damn.” She tapped her finger on the page. “I’m booked up tomorrow. You know what”—she sighed, looking up at me—“I have a lunch break from one to two. Be here at one—not a minute later. There’s a little deli one block north of here. Tell them you want a number four for Shawn. They know me there. They’ll make it just the way I like it.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, I was up and showered early, ready to go. I wouldn’t say I was excited to get back to Shawn’s office, but I wasn’t dreading it as much as I’d been the last two times. I stopped and took a quick look at the phone number on my kitchen counter from the night before.

  Madison

  612-555-2369

  I opened the drawer in my kitchen, tossed it in, and was on my way. A rainy, shitty day in Minnesota meant leaving the bike at home, so I parked my car in front of the Brown Bag Deli and hustled inside.

  A bell rang as I stepped through the door, catching the attention of the middle-aged woman behind the counter.

  “Hey, sweet cheeks!” she said cheerfully. “What can I get ya?”

  “Uh…” I laughed. “I’m supposed to order a number four for Shawn. I have no idea what that is or what that means, but she said you’d make it just the way she likes it.”

  “Ah! I know exactly who you’re talking about. Coming right up.” She turned around and gave the order to the cook through the window as I took a seat at the counter near the front.

  I couldn’t believe the place was only ten minutes from my house, yet I’d never known it existed. The inside was decorated to look old-fashioned—black and white checkered tiles, tables and chairs with that silver rim around them, and a huge chalkboard with the menu written on it hung behind the counter. A huge glass case that held all sorts of cookies and desserts at the other end of the restaurant caught my attention, so I walked over to check it out.

  “See anything you like?” the same woman asked as she walked up to the other side of the glass.

  I glanced up at her name tag. Ruth.

  “Hi, Ruth. Yeah, actually. I’ll also take a cinnamon scone and a blueberry scone, please.”

  “Really?” The corner of her mouth lifted as she paused. “I took you for more of a… meat guy… but scones it is.”

  My mouth hung open as she turned around and grabbed a piece of tissue out of a box. She scooped the scones out of the glass case and put them in a little brown bag. “Anything else? A shake or float maybe?”

  Wait. Floats?

  “Oh, Ruth. You had me at float. Can I get a root beer float?”

  “Damn. I’m off today. Once again, in my head you were an orange dreamsicle guy, but root beer it is.” She giggled as she scooped vanilla ice cream into a big Styrofoam cup. “You’re taking that sandwich down to Shawn now, right?”

  Still laughing at the dirty bird cashier from the sandwich shop, I nodded as she handed me the cup over the counter.

  “Hang on.” She turned back to the counter and started dumping things into a blender while I continued looking through the cases.

  “All right, cutie patootie, you already have your root beer float and here’s your order. Blueberry scone, cinnamon scone, number four, no mayo, and a strawberry banana smoothie with ginseng.” I frowned at her when she mentioned the smoothie, but she just winked at me. “They’re the doc’s favorite.”

  “Ruth,”—I grinned—“you’re amazing. I might have to take you home with me.”

  “Don’t say it unless you mean it, honey buns.” She winked again.

  I laughed out loud. It felt good. “How much do I owe ya?”

  She punched a few buttons on her register. “Seventeen dollars and twenty cents, please.”

  “You’ll definitely be seeing me again. Count on it.” I winked back at her as I handed her a fifty-dollar bill and left.

  As the elevator climbed to the third floor, I looked at the time on my phone.

  12:53 p.m.

  Made it with seven minutes to spare. Feeling proud of myself, I opened the door to the little waiting room and strutted over to the light switch, laughing as I flipped it up, then down, then up and down and up and down and up and down.

  The door flew open and Shawn glared at me as she shook her head.

  “
My bad.” I held my hands up in the air defensively as she closed it again.

  A few minutes later, the door opened again. Thankfully, she wasn’t glaring this time.

  “Come in.” She rolled her eyes, a slight smirk on her face.

  “What’s up, doc?” I grinned as I walked past her. “Sorry about that. I guess I got a little excited flicking the switch.” I bit into my bottom lip, trying hard not to laugh. “Get it? Flicking the switch?” I set the food and drinks down on the coffee table.

  She shut the door and sat down on the chair across from me. “Yes, Lawrence. I got it. I may be a doctor, but I’m not a stiff idiot. My fiancé makes the same perverted hornball jokes as the rest of the male population.”

  I took her sandwich out of the bag and pushed her smoothie toward her. “I can’t take credit for that. Ruth told me you’d like it.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she clapped her hands to her chest. “Isn’t she the best? I was hoping you’d meet her.”

  “She’s pretty awesome. I told her I’d be coming back.”

  She tapped my cup with her straw before pushing it into the smoothie. “What’s that?”

  “Root beer float.”

  Covering her mouth with her hand, she coughed loud, trying not to spit it everywhere.

  “What?” I exclaimed.

  “You, with a root beer float. It’s like you instantly transformed into a five-year-old sitting on my couch.”

  “Wow,” I said sarcastically as she laughed out loud. “I’m so glad I went and bought you lunch and came back here today.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re right.” She took a quick bite of her sandwich and a swig of her smoothie. “Let’s get down to it.”

  I wiggled my eyebrows up and down at her. “Now you’re talking.”

  “Not that, testosterone head.” She rolled her eyes. “Where did we leave off yesterday?”

  “We were talking about Gam.”

  “No, we were done with that. And I’m pretty sure your nose is growing, again.” She wiped her mouth on a napkin and sat back. “I believe we were talking about why you ditched your friends so suddenly after the accident.”