“All jokes aside, Cal, a new person entering your life is significant and can impact things. Let’s chat.”
I stare at her blankly and look at my watch. We can do this for the next thirty minutes.
“Okay. I’ll start,” she says cheerfully and pulls out a file from her desk.
“Lauren Brooks, age 21, an English major, minoring in Art History at Chicago University, works as a waitress at The Vault,” she rattles off and I want to laugh.
“Dex had her checked out?” I scoff.
“This surprises you?” she asks sarcastically.
“Well then, you guys know she’s harmless,” I say, getting up to leave.
“I think you like her from the way you avoid discussing her. If you do like her, I bet you’re trying to think of another date and if you are, I’d say an art student would love to attend the AIC gala Saturday.”
That could a better date than sky diving. But I don’t even know if I should go on another date or call her again. It’d be doing her more of a favor not to. Damn. I glance back at Helen who gestures to the chair across from her.
Helen’s a woman and she’s my doctor. I guess I might as well make use of what have been useless sessions so far. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says excitedly.
I take a seat and plop my feet on her desk which erases the smug grin off her face.
“You said make yourself comfortable,” I retort as she pushes my feet off her desk.
“So tell me about her,” she says.
“I think you know all there is to know,” I say sarcastically.
“I mean, what makes her different than the others? I recall you telling me”—she shuffles through her notebook—“The only thing that interests you in a woman is her bra size and how good she is with her mouth.”
I think I did say something like that. Who knew she really was taking notes.
“That was only partly true,” I say in my defense.
“So what makes Lauren different?”
“I don’t know if she’s different.”
“Well there is something about her that is causing you to respond to her differently than you have the others.”
“I was just trying to make something right that I messed up for her,” I say honestly. She looks at me quizzically. I sit up and explain how everything happened the night I first saw Lauren and how I basically blew up her life as she knew it and only wanted to attempt to repay her for it. After I’m done, she folds her hands on her desk.
“Maybe she reminds you of another part of yourself.”
I roll my eyes. “Trust me it’s not that.”
“Well, let me ask you something, Cal. I’m assuming you want to see her again or you wouldn’t have cared about me offering you the AIC tickets. What happens next?”
That’s the million-dollar question. I know what I want to happen next, what usually already happens. I smile at her suggestively.
“So what’s the problem? You have no problems with your sexual prowess so to speak. Or has the medication been affecting you that way?”
“No! No problems there, trust me.”
“Well then, what is the issue?” she asks.
“I don’t think it’ll end there with her. I don’t think that’s all it could be. If that makes sense,” I say, my eyes landing on my lap.
“My, Cal Scott, have you grown a conscience?” she asks whimsically.
I don’t say anything because I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.
“Has Lauren expressed to you wanting something more than casual?”
“No, but I can tell she’s not the casual type.”
“You’re inferring, and I’ve learned that when people infer it could be a reflection of something within themselves that they’re projecting onto their situation.”
“Are you saying I want her to want something more than casual because that’s what I want?” I laugh.
“Is that so ridiculous? You’re an adult now. You’re not the 19 year old I met so long ago,” she says and I roll my eyes.
“It’s okay for you to desire a higher form of intimacy than just sex. It’s not something that you have to rule out because you associate it with what Chris would possibly want.”
“This isn’t about him!” I say, feeling my jaw flex.
“Speaking of Chris—”
“You brought him up,” I remind her.
“Have you felt any episodes arising?”
“If I had, I’d tell you,” I mumble. I’m getting frustrated with this conversation.
“If you complete my cards, I wouldn’t have to ask you these things,” she says in a singsong voice that annoys me.
“Can I just get the tickets?” I ask tightly. She smiles and her hand disappears into her drawer and she pulls them out, handing them to me.
“Also, you pulled up a ton of information on Lauren. What about Clay?” I ask and she sighs.
“Not any more than last time. It’s a little different to find someone who doesn’t want to be on the radar,” she explains.
“My patience is running out, Helen,” I warn her, walking towards the door.
“You wouldn’t be you, if it wasn’t Cal,” she calls back before I leave.
I always feel lighter when I leave Helen. I joke around with her but there’s more to her than meets the eye. This was just a stop-in with her but usually she’s a griller.
My phone rings and it’s the person I’ve been waiting on. “Tell me you got something good,” I say, trying to cover my annoyance. I’ve been paying this investigator big bucks and, so far, the trail has been a bunch of dead ends. I know Helen and Dexter have been giving me the run around on Clay but there’s more than one way to skin a cat.
“We think we’ve spotted him in Ventian.”
“Ventian?” I say aloud, to make sure I heard what he said right. Of all the places I’ve tracked this guy, he ends up right back in the town he ran from? “Do you have someone tailing him?”
“Of course. That’s extra, considering what happened last time.”
“You guys got it wrong the other time. I hope you don’t disappoint me on this one. It won’t be good.”
I walk to my car thinking of the man who brought me into the world, probably involved lots of beer and the back seat of some shitty car. Why does he get to walk around after everything he did; not one person has made him pay for any of it. I wonder if he thinks about the kids he left behind, if he’s destroyed anymore lives, if he knows that one of them is searching for him, that his time is running out and that the one searching for him will be the one to make him pay.
It’s morning and I’m in bed alone, no longer wrapped in the warmth of Cal’s arms. I make my way out of bed and prepare myself for another day. What type of day this will be, I can only guess. Today we have to go and get Caylen. Cal will face off with the Scotts and what happens then or after that, I don’t know.
I look at the clock on the dresser and see it’s not even seven a.m. yet. I take a deep breath and head into the living room of the small house we’ve nested in for the past day or so. It’s cool but foreign, different from our home in Chicago and the Scotts’. It took a while to get used to the Scotts’ place but it eventually became warm and personable. Even though I hated being alone in Chicago, the penthouse was mine, where once Cal and I shared a home. Here, it feels off, like we don’t belong. Neither of us.