“So anything you want to talk about? Problems with the medication? Anything new I should be informed off?” she asks off handily.
“Nope same-o, same-o,” I say with a shrug.
“Then that’ll make this easy,” she says, finally sitting behind her desk. “Did you fill out the med card I gave you?”
“Do I ever?” I ask, playing with the stress ball I picked up from her desk.
“Of course,” she says, irritated.
“If I start having hallucinations, vomiting or some shit, I will be sure to call you right then and there,” I tell her sarcastically.
“So. How was your date?”
I sigh. Dexter and his big fucking mouth. “It wasn’t exactly like a date,” I tell her dryly.
“Then what was it like?” I swear she and Dex are a match made in heaven.
“I met a girl. She’s hot. We went bungee-jumping, had something to eat, and that was that,” I say, bored. “Can we cut this a little short today? I have something to do,” I say, standing.
“Cal, let’s not do this. You need me to sign off for the okay to meet with the Luxe brothers. There can be a lot of money in a deal like that for you,” I sigh and fall back onto the sofa.
“Come on, Helen. It’s nothing,” I tell her but I can already see those wheels spinning in her head.
“You have never been shy about sharing your liaisons with women before, which makes this all the more interesting,” she says.
I roll my eyes. When I first met Helen I wasn’t sure what to think of her so I did to her what I did to most beautiful woman. I tried to seduce her. In one of my ploys, I gave her every detail of my nights with whomever I took home. When that didn’t work, I thought it’d scared her off. In my defense, that was before I decided I liked Helen. She’s one of the only women I haven’t been able to screw.
“I haven’t done that in a long time,” I say, laughing, remembering how young and dumb I was.
“You made me sit through that for hours at a time. Not that Dexter didn’t thank you for it,” she teases and I make a vomiting expression. Now I can’t see Helen as anything but a sister and thinking of her and Dex having sex is disgusting, especially if I had any part in helping them get going.
“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 or 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.
I
t’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.
When I reach the living room, I don’t see anyone. I look toward the bathroom and see that it’s empty as well. Then I notice the front door is cracked open. I head back into the bedroom and put on warm clothes. Once I’m outside, I see Cal standing in front of the house, his hands clasped on his head.
“Cal, what’s wrong?” I ask him as I approach. When he turns around, his expression lost, eyes watery, frustration and confusion evident on his face.
“Oh no,” I sigh.
“What happened? Where are we?” he asks painfully. My stomach drops and I feel my throat tighten. I try to think of what to say to him, how to answer his questions, how to assure him that everything is okay. I need to be strong but I feel weak. I’m confused myself and overwhelmed. I try to say something but as soon as my mouth opens, I feel as if I’m going to vomit.
“Are you okay?” he says, concern replacing his puzzled expression.
“I—I don’t know.” I chuckle and begin to laugh as tears begin to fall down my cheeks.
He doesn’t remember anything.
Nothing important at least.
The last thing he remembers is being at the hotel room back in Detroit and talking to me through the bathroom door. Which means he doesn’t remember us making love or telling me that he loves me, which makes this entire situation that much more complicated. He’s trying to comfort me but he’s shaken himself and he should be. He’s lost and sullen, just like I am, and now I have to explain to him what happened. I don’t even know now if it was even him that said those things or whether it was Cal all along. That thought alone makes my blood boil. If it was Cal then that means that moment between Chris and me hadn’t actually been a moment between Chris and me at all and was nothing more than a trick, a test, a sick, twisted game…
“I’m so tired of this!” he says grimly. Frustration is radiating from his entire body. I want to comfort him, to tell him everything is going to be okay, but I don’t know if
anything
is okay. Cal was just here last night in this house and now Chris stands before me with not a clue about what’s happened. I don’t know what to think or how I should feel. I’m at a loss. I feel more lost than before I knew about Cal’s…or Chris’s condition.