Jonathan Kellerman - Alex 04 - Silent Partner

by Silent Partner

  I said, "I've betrayed you too."

  She gave a low moan and closed her eyes. "Who?"

  "Old flame from college."

  "Is she... Are you still..."

  "No, it's not like that, never was like that. She captured my head, not my cock. Now she's gone forever. But it changed me."

  She walked to the end of the room, folded her arms over her breasts and said nothing for a while. Then: "Alex, what's going to become of us?"

  "I don't know. A happy ending would be nice. But I have a ways to go before I'm going to be much use to you—to anyone."

  "I like you just the way you are."

  "Like you, too," I said, so automatically that it made both of us laugh.

  She faced me. I extended my hand. She came back, looked up at me. We touched, merged, began undressing each other wordlessly, fell back on the couch and made love there. Made sex. Competent, seamless union born of practice and ritual, so seamless it verged on incestuous.

  When it was over, she sat up and said, "It's not going to be that easy, is it?"

  I shook my head. "What is that's worthwhile?"

  She peeled away from me, got up, stood in front of the picture window. Backlit, naked, curls hanging down her back like a cluster of grapes.

  "The shop's probably a godawful mess," she said. 'Messages slipped under the door, all those backed-up orders."

  "Go ahead," I said. "Do what you need to do." She turned, ran back to me, lay on me, sobbed on my chest. We stayed together, cheek to cheek, before the restlessness set in, then went our separate ways.

  Sharon. Kruse. The Ratman. Even Larry. Enough problems between us to fill a textbook.

  Alone again, I thought of mine, all the unfinished business. I dealt with it by taking the easy way out: found a number in my Rolodex and dialed.

  Fourth ring: "Hello?"

  "Mrs. Burkhalter? Denise? This is Dr. Delaware."

  "Oh. Hi."

  "If this is a bad time—"

  "No, no, it's... I'm... It's funny, I was just thinking of you. Darren's still, uh, crying a lot."

  "Some of that can be expected."

  "Actually," she said, "he's crying more. Lots. Since the last time he saw you. And not sleeping or eating right."

  "Has anything changed since the last time I saw you?"

  "Just the money—though I can't feel that yet. It's not real. I mean, Mr. Worthy says it could take months for it to come in. Meanwhile, we're still getting bank letters and my husband's insurance company is still dragging their damned... Why am I going on like this? That's not what you want to hear about."

  "I want to hear anything you want to tell me about."

  Pause. "I'm real sorry. About the way I ran my mouth at you."

  "That's okay. You've been through plenty."

  "Isn't that the truth. From day one—" Her voice broke. "I keep going on about other stuff, and it's my baby I'm all shook about—crying and yelling and hitting at me, not wanting to know me like he used to. Meanwhile, all the waiting. No one's around. I don't know what to do—I just don't understand why all this is happening."

  Another pause, this one mine. Therapeutic.

  She sniffled through it.

  I said, "I'm sorry, Denise. I wish I could take away your pain."

  "Take it and stuff it in a bag and drop it in the sewer," she said. "Take everyone's."

  "Wouldn't that be something."

  "Yeah." Small laugh. "What should I do, Doc? With Darren."

  "Has he been playing—the way he played in my office?"

  "That's the thing," she said. "He won't. I give him the cars and tell him what to do, but he just looks at them and starts screaming."

  "If you'd like to bring him in, I'd be happy to see him," I said. "Or if the drive's too long, I can refer you to someone closer."

  "No, no, that was all... It's not too far. What else do I have to do all day but drive, anyway?"

  "Then by all means come," I said. "I can see you tomorrow, first thing."

  "Yeah, that would be great."

  We made an appointment.

  She said, "You're a nice man. You really know how to help a person."

  That shored me up enough to make my second call.

  Five minutes to twelve. Lunch break.

  "Dr. Small."

  "Hi, Ada. It's Alex. Brown-bagging it?"

  "Cottage cheese and fruit," she said. "Battle of the bulge. Listen, I'm glad you called. I tried to reach Carmen Seeber, but her line's been disconnected and there's no record of a new one."

  "This isn't about her," I said. "It's about me."

  Her therapeutic pause.

  The damned things worked. I said, "A lot's been piling up. I thought if you thought it would be appropriate for me to come in..."

  "I'm always happy to see you, Alex," she said. "Do you have any concerns about the appropriateness of it?"

  "Not at all. No, that's not true. I guess I do. Things have changed between us. It's hard slipping out of the colleague role, admitting helplessness."

  "You're far from helpless, Alex. Just insightful enough to know you're not invulnerable."

  "Insightful." I laughed. "Far from it."

  "You called, didn't you? Alex, I understand what you're saying—shifting roles must seem like a step backward. But I certainly don't see it that way."

  "I appreciate you saying that."

  "I'm saying it because it's true. However, if you have doubts, I can refer you to someone else."

  "Start over? No, I wouldn't want that."

  "Would you like some time to think it over?"

  "No, no. I might as well dive in, before I figure out some way to build up my defenses again."

  "All right, it's settled then. Let me check my book." The sound of flipping pages. "How about tomorrow at six? The office will be quiet—you won't run into anyone you've referred."

  "Six would be great, Ada. See you then."

  "I'm looking forward to it, Alex."

  "Me too. "Bye."

  "Alex?"

  "Yes?"

  "It's a very good thing you're doing."

  The End