by Ronica Black
“We’ll talk about it some more next week, okay?” Chan gave Bob a pat on the back while escorting them to the door.
They exited in silence, leaving Chan to return to her chair, where she sat gratefully and began to massage her temples. She was confused by her feelings, and concerned. The sex with Officer Monroe had been incredible, unlike anything she had experienced before. So why was she so down? She stewed in her chair, wishing the woman had at least left her number. And her first name. Chan wanted to see her again.
The realization startled her. Maybe that was why she was so shook up. It was obviously just a one-night stand, but Chan wanted another. She shivered as she relived the unforgettable evening. It wasn’t just the unbelievable things the mysterious cop had done to pleasure her, it was how she had done it. With fiery passion and complete control and confidence, coolly demanding what she wanted. This was what moved Chan most, and yet left her feeling strangely yearning. With a long sigh, she rose to get some coffee. She was going to need it to get through the rest of the day.
Entering the main office area, she ran her hand through her hair and allowed the steady buzz from the overhead lights and the strong scent of freshly brewed coffee to soothe her. To her left, several of the reception staff busied themselves filing charts and answering phones. She stopped at the counter and poured herself a steaming cup of the dark morning fuel.
As she sipped, she tried to ready herself for the rest of her day. She had five more people to see, and if her current mood prevailed, it would be a miracle if she made it through.
“Good morning.”
Chan turned with mug in hand, expecting to see one of her colleagues. But the surprise of seeing Hazel Jackson caused her to nearly choke. Hazel was a plump older woman who saw one of Chan’s colleagues. She had been coming to the practice for years and always showed up early for her appointments, talking relentlessly to the staff.
Chan nodded a greeting and tried her damndest not to stare. No matter how many times she saw Hazel, she was still shocked by the woman’s choice of headgear. Planted across her forehead was a large, thick, super-absorbent maxi pad. During the warm season, which was a good seven months in Arizona, Hazel insisted on wearing this version of a sweatband, asserting that it was the only thing that could keep the sweat out of her eyes, especially since she had to wait out in the desert heat for the city bus.
She had the soft side resting against her skin and a purple shoelace running horizontally across the sticky side of the pad, tying it secure around her head. Chan knew she should be used to seeing it by now, but she still had to force her eyes away.
Seemingly oblivious to her discomfort, Hazel dug in her large book bag and retrieved a long-stemmed purple sunflower wrapped excessively in aluminum foil that nearly covered the entire stem.
With an eager smile, she held it out to Chan and said, “I brought one for everybody.”
Chan took the flower tentatively. Last week it was a strange concoction of cookies that were so hard and flat they could have doubled as clay pigeons. Every time Chan looked at them she had the urge to yell “pull!” and toss them into the air.
Suddenly feeling like laughing, she bit her lower lip and tried her best to look the woman in the eye. “Thank you, Hazel. You’re very kind.” With laughter threatening her, she again looked away. But Hazel, as always, didn’t seem to notice.
“If you keep the flower until it dies, the seeds turn into crystals, and if you plant them, you’ll grow magic flowers.” Her voice was alive and excited and she seemed completely serious about what she was saying.
Chan wasn’t surprised, having heard far crazier things from her before. She didn’t know what Hazel’s problems were beyond the general comments passed during team meetings at the practice, but she knew enough to know that the maxi pad sweatband was the least of them. That, coupled with the insistent gift giving, led her to believe that Hazel was quite comfortable with the attention her behavior got her. Trying to modify it had to be a frustrating process. Chan relaxed a little, relieved she wasn’t the one responsible for her care. Today, her patients and their sexual problems were more than enough for her to handle.
“I wrapped it with a wet paper towel so it would live longer,” Hazel confided. “The foil should help keep the paper towel wet.”
Chan glanced at the wrapped flower and then, unable to resist, at Hazel. “I suspect it will,” she said, eyeing her forehead, the area she had been resisting looking at.
Hazel stared at her intensely, still smiling, completely and totally happy in her gift-giving. “You have a good day now.”
“You too, Hazel. I’m sure I’ll see you next week.”
Chan walked back into her office just in time to hear her cell phone ring. She plucked it quickly from her briefcase and answered.
“Chan?” It was Meg. It seemed a little strange that she would be calling this early on a Tuesday morning.
“Meg, hi.”
“Good morning, dear. I hope I’m not interrupting?”
Chan eased down into her leather listening chair. “No, no. I have a few minutes. What’s up?”
“I wanted to tell you that I ran into an old friend of yours this morning.”
“Oh?”
“I was out for my daily walk and he pulled up next to me, said he recognized me as your grandmother.”
Chan suddenly felt wary as she continued.
“Said he knew you from college and had met me once before.”
A little worried, Chan asked. “What was his name?”
“I think he said it was Allen.”
Chan’s brain suddenly came fully awake, searching for the name in her memory banks. She couldn’t find it. “Listen, Meg. I don’t remember anyone named Allen. Don’t talk to him again.”
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. He really does know you. Said he always knew what a fine psychologist you would make.”
Chan sat in silence, still trying to place a fellow student named Allen.
“Don’t worry about it,” Meg said lightly. “He’s completely nonthreatening and he was just saying hello. I wanted to tell you in case you wanted to get a hold of him. He seems like a really nice guy. He even offered me a ride home but I turned him down. I need my exercise.”
Chan wished she could relax at her grandmother’s reassuring words, but she felt uncertain and wary. “I’m sure I’ll remember him. In the meantime, be careful, okay?”
Meg laughed. “Of course. I’ll talk to you later.”
Chan hung up and sat staring into space. She knew she should remember a college friend, but it didn’t surprise her that she couldn’t place his name. Lately, she hadn’t been as sharp as usual. More and more she found herself lost in thought rather than focusing on her paying clients. Before she could stew over the probable sources of her lack of concentration, her desk phone broke her trance.
“Dr. Brogan?” It was her secretary, Cynthia. Another woman who, like Meg, hated the way Chan preferred to fly by the seat of her pants.
“Yes?” Chan readied herself for the bickering that was bound to ensue. She hadn’t finished going over the charts from the weekend. No doubt Cynthia had noticed.
“Michael Gold’s here.”
Chan fingered her lips in thought. Tuesday wasn’t usually Michael’s day. “Is he my next appointment?” She hoped not. For more reasons than one.
“No. He’s asking to be seen this week.”
“Do I have an opening?”
“No, not yet. He wants to know if you’ll stay and see him at six sometime this week.”
Chan shook her head, frustrated. Usually she wouldn’t mind staying for a late appointment, but at the moment she was in no mood for sticking around. “No, I can’t,” she lied. “Put him on the cancellation list.”
She didn’t envy her secretary. Michael wasn’t going to be happy with the news.
“Okay.” Cynthia sighed and mumbled words resembling Chan’s thought.
Chan hung up her phone and allow
ed her gaze to drift to the photographed landscapes on her wall. It was easy to get lost in each photo. Mountains she’d conquered, cliffs she had climbed. She remembered each place and she wished she were standing high on a peak now, surrounded by nothing but the beauty of nature.
As she studied the alluring blue sky in one photo, she was reminded of similar-colored eyes, staring deeply into her, moved by her pleasure. She shuddered and once again felt a pang of loneliness. If only she could find her.
Chan laughed suddenly, realizing how she sounded. But the feeling remained, luring her back to another time when she felt just as alone.
It was completely dark around her, and warm, the air unmoving. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, breathing deeply. The more air she took in, the better she felt. But with every exhalation, the pain built back up.
She remained like that for hours, her lungs battling for air, trying desperately to hold in the scent of her mother’s perfume. Her body trembled as the tears welled and flowed, streaking down her cheeks to drip onto her knees. It had been four days. Four horrible, excruciatingly painful days since that knock at the door.
She and Hank had been dancing with their teenage babysitter, Jamie, to the Bee Gees. Laughing, twirling, shaking about. Pieces of popcorn littered the floor and sofa. The television flashed in silence, drowned out by the stereo. She was happy, smiling widely at her babysitter, thankful that Jamie was finally off the phone and willing to show them some attention. Chan had a crush on the attractive young sitter, a crush she didn’t quite understand. She only knew that she felt excited around her, thrived in her attention, and loved it when Jamie hugged her. She could smell her perfume then. And Chan very much liked the way it smelled. It was different from her mother’s. Less flowery.
When the knocking on the front door came, they all stopped their movements and froze, like deer caught in headlights. Chan met Jamie’s eyes and they communicated without speaking. It was late, way later than she and Hank were supposed to be up. Suddenly alive with panic, Chan grabbed Hank’s hand and jerked him toward the stairs. They flew up the steps hurriedly, half excited, half afraid of getting busted. She heard the stereo turn off as they hit the landing. They rounded the corner and squatted, their breathing quick and short.
She looked to Hank and put her finger to her lips. He nodded with wide green eyes that matched his Incredible Hulk pajamas. She positioned herself on her knees and crawled to peek around the corner. Her heart thumped in her chest and she fought back excited giggles as she waited. She wanted to see what all Jamie would say to her parents, especially if they were going to get in trouble. She and Hank had to prepare for that ahead of time, and it would be nice to have a heads-up.
Chan watched Jamie brush the couch quickly, palming popcorn crumbs and depositing them in the large bowl on the coffee table. More knocking came and the teenager pulled back the curtains to glance outside. Chan watched her curiously as her facial expression changed. Her hand came up to her mouth, as if she were upset. Chan swallowed. Whatever was about to happen, Jamie was unnerved, and that made Chan uneasy.
Jamie opened the door slowly, and Chan waited to hear how upset her parents were about the loud music. She knew it had been loud enough for them to hear, so they would know that she and Hank had been up. Her heart sank. She didn’t want to get in trouble again. Last time it had been Hank’s purple mustache that gave them away. He had pigged out on Popsicles all night long, the ones that they weren’t supposed to eat because they were for her birthday party the next day. He had eaten his fill and then fallen asleep on top of his covers, Popsicle juice ringing his mouth.
Now, as she heard a low male voice, Chan readied herself for trouble again.
“What’s going on?” Hank wanted to know.
“Shh!” She eased out a little farther, trying to hear her father’s words. But as the sitter took a step back, Chan realized the voice at the door wasn’t her father’s.
Two uniformed policemen walked inside, the first one catching her gaze right away. Chan pulled back against the wall, not sure what to think but knowing she was in real serious trouble for the police to have come. She hugged her knees to her chest and willed her Wonder Woman pajamas to give her courage. Could kids go to jail for staying up too late? Did her parents tell on her to the police? Suddenly, she felt like crying. She didn’t want to go to jail.
She huddled close to Hank. “It’s the police!” she whispered to him.
“The police!” His face was full of fear. “Why are they here?”
“I don’t know!”
They sat listening, and Chan nearly burst with anxiety as she heard her babysitter break down into tears. Oh God it was bad, really bad. They were going to jail. Jamie too. She heard footsteps on the stairs, walking up slowly. She closed her eyes, too afraid to move an inch. When the walking stopped, she felt the air move next to her, letting her know that someone was there.
“Chandler?” It was a man’s voice. The policeman. She gulped and trembled and looked up into his face. He smiled softly at her, confusing her even more. He removed his hat and squatted down in front of her and looked to both her and Hank. “Is this your brother?” he asked.
She nodded.
“How old are you guys?”
“Five!” Hank shouted out, just like he did anytime anyone asked.
The policeman held her eyes. “And what about you?”
“I’m eight,” she whispered.
He sighed and rubbed his jaw. He shook his head.
Chan saw the sorrow in his expression and suddenly she realized he wasn’t there to take them to jail. Something else was wrong, but she couldn’t imagine what.
“Listen, guys,” he breathed, his voice now a whisper too. “I’ve got some bad news.”
Chan pulled her knees tighter, suddenly cold. The man continued and she could tell he was trying not to cry.
“Your mom and dad. They’re not going to come home.”
“Are they in jail?” Hank asked, concern on his brow.
“No, pal, they’re not in jail.” Chan watched the small ball in the cop’s throat bob as he swallowed. “They were in a bad accident.” His hand flew up to wipe at his cheek as a tear spilled.
Chan sat in a daze, her ears heating and filling with fear and panic.
“Did they get hurt?” Hank asked.
“Yes.” The man straightened then, into a stand. He held his hand out for Chan, encouraging her to stand. She did so on her own, afraid to touch him, not wanting to feel what he was obviously feeling. If she didn’t touch him, then maybe he would go away. Maybe the sadness that surrounded him would go away too.
She stood and looked back to Hank, who rose up eagerly to clutch the policeman’s hand.
He led them down the stairs and Chan walked slowly, her heart hammering with a sudden need to see her parents. If the police were there, then the accident must have been bad. Her parents must be in the hospital. She swallowed a painful lump in her throat as she thought of them hurt and alone in the hospital.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and Jamie bent down with tears in her eyes to scoop up Hank in her arms.
More fear surged through Chan. “I want to go see my mom and dad,” she demanded, looking up at the policeman.
He didn’t answer, but rather looked to his partner. The shorter cop averted her eyes and reported, “The grandmother is on the way.”
Chan figured they hadn’t heard her. “I want to go to the hospital!” She had to get there. She didn’t want her parents to be afraid.
The policeman rested a hand on her shoulder, but she moved out from under it, looking away from his wet, sad eyes, hating what she saw in them. Noise came from the front door and another person entered the house, a woman older than Jamie but younger than Chan’s mom. She wore regular clothes with her police badge on her chest.
She walked up to Chan and squatted, meeting her at eye level. “Hi. My name is Susan.”
She smiled but Chan saw through it. It wa
s a comforting smile, one like her teachers gave when they were trying to calm down a misbehaving kid. Had she misbehaved? Was that why they weren’t taking her to the hospital? They had to let her go to them. They just had to!
She pleaded with the woman in front of her and then fell silent as she saw the look that washed over her face. It was worse than the tall officer. Way worse. Her lips quivered and her eyes welled with tears just before the fake smile returned.
“Sweetie.” She reached out and touched Chan’s arm, and this time Chan didn’t move away from the touch.
Instead she was drawn in, hypnotized by the woman’s expression. And she knew something bad had happened.
“You can’t go see your mom and dad because they got hurt real bad in a car accident.”
She got choked up and suddenly Chan knew what she was trying to say.
“No!” Chan shouted.
“Yes, sweetie, I’m afraid so.” She tried to tighten her grip on Chan’s arm, but Chan yanked herself free.
“No! You’re lying. It’s not true!” It had to be a cruel joke. It couldn’t be true. She had just hugged them good-bye and promised to go to bed on time. They were supposed to come home and somehow catch her staying up late. She was supposed to get in trouble and get grounded from riding her bike.
Hank began to cry and Jamie held him close and began to hum in his ear, doing her best to comfort him. But his gaze remained fixed on Chan. He shoved Jamie away, forcing her to release him, then ran to Chan.
Tugging on her sleeve, he begged, “Where’s Mom and Dad?”
She couldn’t answer. She looked at the people standing in her home. All of them were silent, all had tears in their eyes. She dropped her head, consumed with a raw burning that rose up and out of her chest.
Hank’s crying became loud and wailing. He clung to her and she clung to him, feeling his tiny body rack with uncontrollable sobs.