And they couldn’t be any more wrong.
“Well, it’s pretty complicated.”
“So that’s where the mood swings come from.”
“I don’t have mood swings.”
“Sure. And I don’t have a thing for great pecs.”
Again, I ignore him. “Anyway…”
“So he knows who you are then?”
“No!” The single word is propelled from my mouth with all the anxiety a disaster such as that inspires. “No, he doesn’t.”
“So, he only knows you as Laura?”
“Actually, he only knows me as Samantha. He doesn’t know it’s me he met last week.”
“Oh,” he says deadpan. The single word is flat and ominous, like a death knell. And I don’t like the sound of it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ari’s eyes widen innocently. “What’s what supposed to mean? I didn’t say anything.”
“That ‘oh’ was definitely something.”
Ari shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“It is. I just…”
“You just what?”
“I worry about you. You know that.”
“But why are you worried? Ten seconds ago you were all ‘give me details’.”
“Yeah, but that was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I realized you didn’t tell him.”
“Why does that matter?”
“I just can’t imagine any relationship going very far when you’re keeping huge secrets right from the beginning.”
I feel my lips thin in anger. I want to snap back with a snide comment, but I can’t. There’s nothing to say. Ari’s right. And that’s what makes me angry.
********
I’m lying in bed when the phone rings. It’s still early by Oregon time, but my body still thinks it’s in South Carolina. That’s another reason I came in early—to give myself a day to adjust.
My heart stutters, as has become my usual reaction since meeting Alec. Until I see that it’s Chris calling. Then it shrivels just a little.
It’s ridiculous that I should be so upset about not hearing from Alec since Friday. I should be grateful that he’s taking me out of a difficult situation, one I might not have been able to extricate myself from, no matter how self-destructive it was.
Yet I can’t be thankful. Not when I’m feeling so hurt and disappointed and deflated.
I think it’s the erratic ups and downs that are really getting to me. When Alec is around, he’s “on.” But when he’s not, it’s like he just disappears altogether. Radio silence. Like we never met. Like I don’t exist.
“I thought I left you back in the south?” I say in lieu of a more traditional greeting.
“Um, you did, whore. I’m calling because you’re such a paranoid crackpot you wouldn’t even give your therapist your phone number.”
“That’s called plausible deniability. If I don’t like how things go, I can always swear on a stack of Bibles that I never attended one therapy session with Dr. B. No one would be able to prove a thing.”
“You really take this whole thing to an unhealthy level, you know that, right?”
“Yes, I know. But are you surprised?”
Chris sighs. “I guess not. It’s par for the course, I suppose.”
“Right. Now, what do you want?”
“God, you’re so cranky! You really need to get laid, Sam. I think it’s getting to the point of being an imperative.”
I ignore her comment.
“Spill it. Why are you calling me?”
“Because Dr. B’s office called to see if an eleven o’clock office visit on Tuesday would be acceptable.”
“I haven’t decided I’m going in yet.”
“Well, you are now.”
“Chris, what did you do?”
“I confirmed your appointment. You would’ve had that time blocked off for your online session anyway. A short trip downtown won’t hurt you one little bit.”
“I hate you. Have I ever told you that?”
“Yes. You hate me just as much as I hate you.”
It’s my turn to sigh. “If only I didn’t love you so much.”
“Pain in the ass, isn’t it?”
“More than you know.”
I hear a giggle and then a click. Just like that, she drops a bomb and disappears.
Typical.
Now I know I won’t get any sleep.
********
Sunday melts into Monday, and Monday into Tuesday. With every day that passes without so much as a single word from Alec, my mood darkens into something eerily similar to despair. Before I know it, I’m on my way to keep an appointment with a therapist that I neither wanted nor (technically) agreed to meet. This reminds me of how desperately I need to be more assertive.
Maybe if I write a book about an assertive woman in complete control of every aspect of her life, I could experience some of that in real life instead of…this.
On the up side, if she can get me to loosen up and talk, she’s liable to regret it. I am loaded with issues today!
My sigh is swallowed up by the blues music coming from the stereo in the cab. It doesn’t seem nearly long enough before he’s dropping me off at the curb in front of my destination.
The building is sleek and glass-fronted. It looks posh, which comforts me from a confidentiality standpoint. Usually the more things cost, the less likely you are to have to worry about blabbermouths. Rich people certainly don’t want to bite the hands that feed them, so discretion is a must.
I leave my sunglasses in place until I get into the elevator and hit the button for the fourteenth floor. According to the signage in the lobby, Buraquinho and Associates occupies that entire floor.
A muted ding followed by the whoosh of the doors opening signals my arrival. I step out into an elegant reception area.
Gone is the coldly formal marble-and-chrome décor of the lobby, replaced by a calming cream, beige and sage palette. I have no doubt the colors were specifically chosen for their soothing effect, an effect that is lost on me in my current state of anxiety.
I walk to the half-moon shaped desk and stop. The girl behind it, a gorgeous, wafer-thin female with wheat-colored hair and enormous blue eyes, looks up and smiles. I feel immediately inferior, like a drab buffoon.