"So, tell me how it went."
I shrugged as I held onto that word—proud. "It was good, I guess. I was kind of a dick to her, but—"
"Why were you a dick?"
"Because I wanted her to leave."
"And why's that?"
A heavy sigh escaped my lungs as those feelings of good evaporated from my pores. "Because, Doc, I was drunk, and she doesn't deserve to spend her time with a piece of shit like me. And yet, I couldn't make her leave, no matter what I said to her. She wouldn’t go away. So, we went for a walk and ended up at my place."
"Wow. Lots of highs and lows, huh?" And there she went, writing again.
"You could say that," I mumbled. "It was like ... like a yo-yo or some shit. One second, I didn't want her to leave and the next, I was two seconds away from shoving her out the door. And it was like that all fucking night until we ... uh ..."
"You can say whatever you want in here. You know that." Then she added, "Whatever you're comfortable with."
"I fucked her," I admitted, shoving a hand through my hair.
"And?"
My eyes widened as the corner of my mouth lifted in a smirk. "What the fuck, Doc? I never pegged you for a perv."
She laughed easily. "I'm not asking for details, unless you want to give them for whatever reason. I'm asking, how did it make you feel to sleep with her? What happened afterward?"
"It was nice," I admitted quietly. "And she stayed over. I've never had a woman stay over, so ...," I shrugged before repeating, "It was nice."
"That's great, Blake." Her tone was so soft and genuine, but there was something else that lingered there, between the letters and words. Sadness? Jealousy?
"Yeah, it was," I scoffed, diverting my gaze toward the window and Derby Square. "Until my mom called the next morning and reminded me exactly why I can't have nice. I can't have good sleep and good sex with a woman I like, because I have priorities and other shit going on. And then," I snickered, shaking my head, "there was the crap with her cross ..."
There was a pause in the good doctor's scribbling. "What about a cross?"
"I found her cross in my house. It must've broken off her neck or something. How the fuck am I supposed to take that shit?"
Leaning back against her chair, Dr. Travetti eyed me studiously. "What do you mean, how are you supposed to take it?"
"Doc." I thrust a hand toward the coffee table between us. "The goddamn thing was just laying in my living room. I can't even think of when it would've fallen off, but there it was, just waiting for me to fucking find it. That can't mean anything good … right? Like, that's gotta be some bad omen bullshit right there."
"But I thought nothing means anything," she reminded me, a hint of challenge glinting in her eyes as she fiddled with the tip of her pen. "Everything is coincidental and meaningless."
"Well, yeah, but I mean ..." I cleared my throat and clasped my hands. "I'm just saying that, um ..." What the fuck was I saying?
I pressed my lips shut and studied my hands. The lines of ink, some of them faded, and the creases of my knuckles. My fingernails and palms. There wasn't anything inherently interesting about them, about the ink injected into layers of my skin or the lines coursing across my palms, but they were a distraction and I appreciated them for it.
"Blake?"
"Yeah." I traced the back of one hand with a finger. Round and round a raven's eyeball.
"I thought you didn't believe in signs."
"I don't," I insisted, but it was weak. My voice, my assurance, my resolve to denounce faith and all that comes with it—weak.
"Then, why are you shutting down?"
I glanced up at her from studying a speck of dirt beneath a nail. "Because I'm just thinking, if there were signs and there was some fucking god out there trying to tell me something, I might be convinced that this is one."
"I see," she replied with a nod. "And what do you think he'd be trying to tell you?"
"To stay the fuck away from her," I retorted without hesitation.
Dr. Travetti nodded astutely before narrowing her eyes. "Maybe. But let me ask you this, Blake. What are you going to do with it?"
"The cross?" She nodded, and I continued, "Well, I have to give the thing back to her, right? I mean, it obviously means something to her, so I have to find a way to give it back."
"And if you hadn't found the cross, would you be so inclined to see her again?"
I considered that for a moment. Would I? The sex was good, the sleep was great, but would I have found her for a round two? Would I have found her at all, to talk or to have a drink? There was no doubt in my mind that the answer was no, and I didn't have to say so. The two-lettered word was written plainly on my face and Dr. Travetti nodded.
"Okay. So, maybe the cross really is a warning, you could be right," she agreed, nodding. "Or maybe it's something else.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“Maybe it’s an invitation."
***
"Jake, buddy." I held out his backpack. "Come on, let's go."
Jake's resolve to pace the living room angrily continued, despite my pleading. "Not going. Not going today."
"Why aren't you going?"
"Miss Thomas is sick. She's not coming back. Miss Thomas is gone."
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Since picking him up from daycare Monday evening to waking him up this morning, I had heard about nothing except for how Miss Thomas had left school early. She had a sinus infection and had realized too late that she wasn't well enough to handle the likes of my brother and his pals. And that would have been fine, if Jake could handle change. But if one tiny thing was thrown off in his life, the turmoil was horrific.
"Miss Thomas isn't gone, Jake. She just needs to stay home for a couple of days while she gets better. She'll be back soon."
He shook his head fervently. "She's sick, she's gone. Never coming back. She's gone."
"Goddammit," I muttered under my breath, quickly realizing that the likelihood of him going to daycare today was slim to none. Our parents were both out all day, and he couldn’t be left unsupervised. I’d have to watch him, which was fine, but what about work? I had three appointments today and couldn't cancel unless it was a real emergency, and was this really an emergency?
I considered the question, and then threw Jake's backpack on the couch. "Fine, don't go," I relented as I headed to the door. "Come on.”
“Where are we going, Blake?”
“I don’t care if you don’t go to school,” I told him, “but then, you're coming with me to work."
***
"What the hell is this, Blake?" Gus, my boss, crossed his arms and side-eyed my brother as he watched Daniel Tiger on his iPad. "This isn't Bring Your Brother to Work Day, man."
"I didn't have a choice. It was either that or call out." My eyes met his as I sat in my stool. "Which would you have preferred?"