"Where are you from?" I ask, curious suddenly.
"Kansas."
I roll my eyes, "Well duh. I know Kansas. I mean where were you fighting when he found you?"
"Wichita."
"He's from Kansas too?" I'm confused? "What was he doing at a boxing match in Wichita?"
He frowns and pulls the car into the parking lot of the doctor, "Not a clue." He hops out and gets the door. I look up into his beautiful eyes, "A hundred thousand a year and you never questioned it?"
He shakes his head, "I was making thirty fighting and fifteen at the gym as a trainer."
I walk away from them and pull my sweater tighter around me. None of this makes sense.
The door to the office feels like the door to Sebastian's building. I miss him in sick and twisted ways. Selfish ways.
I open the door with the gloved hand. The only thing I love about winter, wearing gloves. Gloves in the summer make my hands sweaty, which freaks me out more. But gloves in the winter are my new saving grace. Gloves and Michelle.
I push the button on the elevator in a series of taps and take a deep breath. When the elevator dings and the door opens, her smiling face is there for me. She never makes me ride it alone. It's his orders. I like it though. I don’t like elevators alone.
"How are you this week?" She asks, as I step inside.
"I'm okay. How are you?"
She presses the button and nods, "Excellent, thank you." When the door closes she turns, "He's phoned only a few moments ago. He's terribly worried. Is there some stuff you don’t want to talk about, that maybe you should?"
The elevator stops at her apartment. We walk out into the huge open space. I hate it. It's too open and too white and too bright. I feel like I am under a microscope here and she can see all the fine details I try to hide.
I walk to the chair, where I always sit. It's the one with the back to the wall. I don’t like chairs with their backs near windows or doors and god forbid it, open space. I shake my head and fidget with my fingers, "I'm doing good. I don’t know what he's talking about."
She sits and sips from the glass of water she has. She always sets me out one as well. It always has a cucumber slice in it and looks refreshing, as always, I've yet to drink it.
"He is under the impression you've had a bad break up. You're depressed a bit from it." Her dark-blue eyes and dark shiny hair shimmer in the extreme light. The light that makes me feel exposed.
In it I can see her better though. She is mid forties and pretty, but like a mom. She reminds me of Michelle's mom. Pretty and clean. Only Michelle's mom always smells like food. I can remember the millions of hugs that smelled like spaghetti.
"He seems to think you are upset about the young man. Sebastian."
I continue to ignore her. I refuse for her to see that side of my soul. The dirty side. "There is something I want to talk about. My benefactor, I think he's a bad man. He's paying a hundred grand to Stuart to be my driver. Who does that? He hired him from a gym. He could be a serial killer."
She crosses her arms, "So you wish to discuss the possible previous career choices Stuart has made? Or that the man paying for you to get better, could be a bad man?"
I nod, "I'm going to bet mafia of some sort."
She doesn’t grin.
I fidget my fingers, "Can we do the grateful thing again?"
She sighs, "Avoiding the conversation isn’t going to make it go away. You know you’re safe in here. Let's talk about the relationship. Do you feel like it was a wise choice, considering your feelings about people and proximity? Did you tell him everything?"
I snap, "What everything? My holey memory about a creepy house, blue eyes in a dirty hole and a dead girl on a bed? What am I supposed to do with that? Oh right there was also a gunshot. Useful stuff."
Her lip plays with a grin, "Nice. I like that question. What do you think the answer is?"
I want to toss something. I might snap her head off if she asks me one more thing. I squeeze my hands in a ball. My nails are short, always. They don’t leave indents but my fingertips start to get numb.
"He said you have been to the bar a few times. How was that? Seems like a big step."
I press my lips together and take in big breaths.
"Are you self calming?" She asks and sips from the water again. I watch my glass. I'm so thirsty.
I decide I can play along with her. I shrug, "It was fun. The dancing was fun. I didn’t like being around so many people, but they never really noticed me. So I felt invisible."
She nods and watches me. "Did you drink?"
"A sip of beer a few times. Nothing crazy."
"Did you buy the beer?" Her tone puzzles me.
"No. Shell did. She bought the beer and gave it to me."
Her eyes narrow. She sips the water again. I think she's doing it loudly to make me want some. "Was the lid off the beer when you got it?"
I frown and nod, "It was." How did I not notice that?
"Did you dance?" She changes the subject quickly.
"Yup."
"That’s some progress I think." Her voice lifts. I grin, I love her approval. Like the nuns.
"Now the guy you met, was he there?"
I nod. My smile fades.
"Why did you break up?"
The words pop out, "I can't be that girl."
"Can't or won't?" She doesn’t miss a beat.
I shrug, "Does it matter?"
She nods. Her eyes sparkle. "If you want to change and one day be free of it all, it matters. If you want to have a real relationship one day, of course it matters."
I look down. I need to change the subject. "I don’t sleep much anymore. If Michelle isn’t there I don’t sleep. He asked me to tell you that." I'm dreading where she will take that.
She sits back on the chair, getting more relaxed. "Okay. What is that?"
"Before it was just the first night somewhere new. Now it seems to be all the time. It seems to be worse."
She drags her long slender finger with a French tipped manicure back and forth along the armrest, "Since the breakup?"
I nod. I'm close to her. I trust her. I relax and take a breath and remind myself of these things. She isn’t the enemy.
"He broke up with you?"
I shake my head.
"Why are you so sad if you broke it off?"
I laugh bitterly, it's almost a sob. "I couldn’t be with him."
"Sexually?"
The word makes my skin crawl.
"Do you want to talk about the house you've mentioned before?"
I almost crawl backwards up the chair, "NO!"
She puts a delicate hand out, "Calm. Be grateful for the moments that matter. You are breathing air and are alive and the room is clean and free of germs."
I take a breath but my skin won't stop crawling and shivering.
"So sexually you can't be with him? Is it possible you feel guilty for wanting to?" I'm up and walking for the door, "Thanks doc." I press the elevator. It opens instantly. She knows better than to chase me. The door dings. I walk across the foyer and out into the cool breeze. Michelle and Stuart are kissing in the front seat. I turn left instead of going to the car. I don’t want to disrupt them. I have my wallet and phone. If I get desperate I'll call a cab.
I stroll down the driveway and out onto the street. The air is cold and crisp, it makes me feel clean. Well clean-ish.
My phone vibrates. I pull it out and answer.
He speaks before I can, "Why did you leave the car?" He is moody.
I can be moody too, "Why did you hire Stuart for a hundred thousand a year to drive me around?"
He heaves a sigh, "He has a big mouth and my business with him is private. That just cost him his pay for a month. Why did you leave the car?"
I scream into the phone, "HOW DO YOU KNOW I LEFT THE CAR? WHERE ARE YOU? YOU FUCKING FREAK! STOP SPYING ON ME!" I'm trembling and at my breaking point.
"Are you finished?" He is calm.
I dry sob and feel badly for calling him a freak. It's a glass house moment I'm not proud of. "Yes."
"Why did you leave the car?" He is so calm it scares me.
I laugh, "Why did you hire a boxing UFC champ as my driver?"
He laughs with me but says nothing. He is silent. I wait for it and then sigh. I am defeated. "I wanted to be alone. She made me feel dirty. I didn’t want to be with them."
"Because I am a rich man and if anyone ever knew that you were my ward, they would hurt you to get to me. I need to know you're alright. At all times. Stuart can protect you. I cannot. I am busy." I am a burden suddenly.
I don’t have anything to add to that. How can I be so angry that he wants to keep me safe? At all times. And I am a burden that costs him a fortune. I pause, "What? Wait…who wants to hurt you and me?"
"My business." His tone is getting edgy. I don’t even want to know what he's talking about. I don’t need new reasons to not sleep.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. "Can you find Sebastian for me?"
"Why?"
"I need to tell him that I'm sorry. It's killing me inside that I made him feel so awful." I don’t say that he is the only normal thing in my life and I need him. That I made a terrible mistake.
His voice is dead calm again, "Do you love him?" I spin around and look for him. He must be watching me. I shake my head, "I don’t think I'm capable of that."
I hear the car. He's gone. He's hung up again.
I turn and see Stuart. He looks savagely angry. He gets out and opens the door to the car in a rough jerk. Shell is scowling at me. I sigh, and climb in defeated. They don’t speak to me, or each other. When we drive up, Stuart doesn’t get out of the car. He doesn’t move his head. He looks straight ahead. I climb out. It's the first time I've opened my own door. I feel sick. I'm a moron. I know this. I walk up the stairs to the dorm. Shell stays behind in the car. I don’t have to look back. I don’t hear her door. I walk inside and feel the lump in my throat growing.
