‘Well,’ Nancy said, shaking her head, ‘be careful what you ask for. And don’t discount the likelihood that some of these people could be dangerous.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ I made the cross-my-heart gesture. ‘I’ll keep my wooden stakes handy.’
‘So.’ She smiled. ‘Have you been thinking about taking an emotional risk? Going out on a date? Even having a male friend?’
‘Crap.’ She never misses. ‘And I was having such a good time talking about vampires. I should know better than to try to distract you from busting my defence mechanisms. You’re like a heat-seeking missile for avoidance attempts. Yes, Dr St John, I have been thinking about it. It isn’t as easy as you make it sound, you know.’
‘Kismet, here’s a good opportunity for you to confront some of your childhood demons. You’ve said your fear of social situations started very early. You never got the opportunity to learn about healthy relationships – your parents are with-drawn academics who tuck their pens into little plastic things in their shirt pockets. Even today they’re stereotypical scientists. Their idea of getting together with friends consisted of inviting others to your home for lectures, very cerebral lectures that you were required to attend and give a report on.’
‘Yeah.’ I paused, thinking about my parents. ‘You’ve got a good memory. I never really was a child – my parents treated me like a colleague rather than an offspring.’ I laughed, and reached into the side pocket of my briefcase to pull out a pair of black-rimmed glasses. ‘I bought these at a drugstore when I was twelve years old so I could look smart, like their students at the university.’ I studied the glasses for a few seconds. ‘I don’t know why I keep them.’ I shrugged.
‘Don’t you?’
Let’s not go there today.
‘Not consciously.’
She gave the therapist’s nod. ‘We can explore that when you’re ready. You said your desire to be a psychologist, to actually mingle with other human beings, baffled your parents.’ Nancy retrieved her teacup. ‘They couldn’t comprehend why you’d want to specialise in the messy realm of emotions rather than pure logic, why you’d want to discuss meaningless things like feelings.’
‘Yes.’ I inhaled a deep breath and released it. ‘If my mother ever did anything as time-wasting as embroidery, she’d have stitched that saying onto a pillow – Feelings Are Meaningless. It took me years to acknowledge some of my own emotions without guilt.’ Talking about my parents always caused a heavy sensation in my stomach. I returned the glasses to the briefcase and shook off the negative energy from my mental visit to the past. ‘I don’t wear the glasses any more, and as long as I keep the conversation on psychology, I can make a little small talk at conferences. I’ve come a long way.’
‘You have.’ Nancy looked at me with compassion in her eyes. ‘You should be very proud of yourself. But, as we’ve discussed before, if you really want to increase your confidence around men and have a good relationship at some point, you’ll need to take the next step. What if you set a goal of walking up to a handsome man and starting a conversation? Can you imagine that?’
‘Gak!’ I held my hands up, forming a cross with my index fingers as if warding off a vampire. ‘Why don’t you just ask me to shed my clothes and run down the 16th Street Mall?’
‘Really?’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘You actually see those things as equal? Kismet! What are we going to do with you? I know you had a bad experience with your ex-boyfriend Tom—’
‘Tom!’ I smacked my palms against my thighs. ‘I can’t believe I forgot. I saw him yesterday. He’s in Denver. It was wonderful.’
‘Wonderful? Tom?’ She pressed a hand against her chest as her mouth dropped open. ‘Please don’t tell me you decided to get back together with him. We talked about what a flawed individual he is.’
‘Get back together with him? Not in this or any other reality. The wonderful part was the lightbulb that went off over my head. Lightbulb? Hell – it was a red-carpet spotlight! I finally saw him with absolute crystal clarity. I don’t know why I couldn’t see it before, but that doesn’t matter. For the first time since I met him years ago, I felt nothing. Well, revulsion, certainly, but nothing that would make me lose my mind and reconcile. It was a great experience! I wish you could’ve been there.’
Caught up in my enthusiasm, Nancy clapped her hands. ‘Yes! I’m so happy for you. Maybe setting the new goal won’t seem so out of the question now?’
I gave a loud sigh and sat back in my seat. ‘Even thinking about talking to a good-looking man gives me cramps. I’m such a coward.’ Acknowledging that fact felt bad, even to Nancy, whom I trusted.
‘You aren’t a coward,’ Nancy said, shaking a finger in my direction. ‘You simply never learned to be social, to make non-professional small talk. You know shy people are totally misunderstood. It’s not as if you choose to feel the way you do.’ She drank from her cup again and replaced it on the table.
If you really knew me – knew about the weird psychic flashes – you might see me differently. Hearing things other people don’t hear. Seeing things, feeling things. My childhood was a strange trip down a demented Yellow Brick Road. I’m not brave enough to tell even you about that. Right now I know you’re worried about me. You wish you could go back and heal my childhood and you’re afraid I’ll never get past the hurtful experiences. I wish I could tell you how scary it is to be like me. I don’t want to know those things. Makes me feel crazy. Especially since I can’t count on the abilities – they only show up when they want to. Maybe I have more in common with my clients than I think.
‘Yes, well.’ I kept my voice light and steady, ‘talking about it’s the easy part. I think it will take a miracle to blast me out of my nerd persona.’ I pointed to my feet. ‘I’m lucky I remember to wear matching shoes. Hey’ – I laughed – ‘maybe my client can introduce me to one of her imaginary vampires and he can entrance me with his hypnotic eyes and change my personality. That would be something to write about, wouldn’t it?’
She smiled, completely aware of my distracting manoeuvre. ‘I have absolute faith in your ability to take on any challenge you set for yourself. And I’m always here to help.’
We consulted on a couple of my long-term clients and talked about an upcoming conference, then I left and drove to my office.
I rode up in the elevator and walked along the hallway. The door to my waiting room was open. The cleaning crew had probably forgotten to lock it again. I wasn’t expecting anyone for another hour, at least.
‘Midnight?’
My newest client sat, tapping her feet on the carpet, dressed in a floor-length dark-blue dress adorned with sparkling stars, and a burgundy velvet cape. The sleeves were long enough to cover her arms all the way to mid-hand. Black lace-up stiletto-heeled boots completed the outfit.
‘Oh, hi, Dr Knight. I hope you don’t mind that I came early. I know my appointment isn’t until later.’
She doesn’t seem upset. But she’s acting different . . .
‘Is everything okay?’
Her lips spread, showing her delicate fake fangs. ‘Yes. Everything’s fine.’ She held up a large leather portfolio. ‘I just couldn’t wait. After our meeting I got all kinds of ideas for drawings, and since you sort of inspired them, I wanted to get here early and show them to you.’ Her smile crumpled and her gaze skimmed the carpet. ‘But you’re probably too busy to look at pictures. I should’ve thought of that.’
She expects me to reject her.
‘Drawings? You’re willing to share them with me? That’s great. Please, come on in – I’d love to see them.’
We walked across the waiting room. She flashed a little-girl smile and stood, clutching the portfolio against her chest, waiting for me to unlock the door to my office.
This is a good sign.
I escorted her inside, closed the door, and set my briefcase on my desk.
‘How do you want to do this?’ I asked. ‘You can display them on the couches and chairs, or howev
er you like.’
‘Okay. I’ll set them up.’ She literally skipped into the room.
To give her some privacy, I opened my briefcase and rummaged inside, looking for my appointment book. Then I turned on my computer, watching her arrange her display out of the corner of my eye.
‘I’m ready. Come and look,’ she said, hugging herself. ‘I’ll tell you about each of the sketches. Some of them are just rough outlines, so don’t expect much.’
I walked over to stand next to her in front of the longest couch where she’d propped several pencil drawings of people. ‘Oh, wow – these are gorgeous,’ I said, and meant it. ‘You are really talented.’
‘Really?’ She straightened, obviously pleased. ‘You think so? This is a picture of my mother.’ She pointed to a sketch of a tired-looking, sad woman staring off into space. Despite the hopelessness of the picture, it was apparent the woman was beautiful – or had been, before life wore her down. I didn’t know anything about art or drawing, but even I could tell the work was excellent.
‘Midnight, you really have a gift. That’s an amazing picture of your mother. I can see the resemblance between you.’
‘Yeah.’ She studied the face on the page. ‘She used to say we were twins born twenty years apart. But she doesn’t say things like that any more.’ She shifted her eyes to the next paper. ‘This is my father. I drew this one from a photo of him when he was younger. When he still cared about anything besides alcohol.’ The sketch showed a very nice-looking, smiling man standing next to a vintage Ford Mustang.
It didn’t take keen intuition to feel the waves of yearning rolling off Midnight as she stared at her father and mourned what she’d lost.
‘He’s a very handsome man. You have his eyes, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ She touched the picture. ‘I do have his eyes,’ she said softly. ‘I wish I had him,’ she said on a whisper, probably assuming I hadn’t heard.
She grieves for him as if he’s dead.
‘Who is this?’ I pointed to a rough drawing of a pretty young woman about Midnight’s age.
‘This is my cousin Anne. She lives down in Durango. We get to see each other every few months or so. She’s really the one who turned me on to the vampires. Or on to vampire books, anyway.’ She laughed. ‘She’s a Twilight fanatic. I can’t wait to tell her about all my new friends.’
Ah, the secret imaginary playmates . . .
‘You haven’t told your cousin about the vampires?’
‘No.’ She shook her head vigorously. ‘I’m not allowed to. Besides, she probably wouldn’t believe me.’
Hmm. Maybe she doesn’t totally believe, either. Her emotions are all jumbled up.
‘Do you have any sketches of your new friends?’ I wasn’t sure if she was willing to share any of her vampire fantasy with me yet, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.
She hesitated, then walked to another couch where she’d laid out several smaller pictures. ‘Uh-huh. I’ve done several of them. I’m not sure I’ve drawn them as beautiful as they are, but you can get a general idea.’
I joined her and stared down at the renderings: one perfect ethereal face after another. If these were fragments of her imagination, her creative abilities knew no bounds. ‘These drawings could be in a gallery, Midnight. They’re outrageously good.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled shyly and tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘But I really can’t take a lot of credit for these. All I did was copy what I saw – they really do look like this.’
She would make a remarkable fantasy artist. I hope she just has talent rather than delusions.
A lone sketch sat on one of the chairs. But this one was different from the others: she’d created this portrait with coloured pencils. Staring back at me from the paper was the most beautiful male face I’d ever seen: pale skin, light-blond hair, indescribable eyes.
What the hell? This looks like the man outside my building. The blond who waved to me from the steps of the old church. Midnight knows this man? No way. That’s too weird.
I reached down to lift the sheet and heard a deep male voice call my name:
‘Kismet . . .’
‘What?’ The room spun. Feeling suddenly dizzy, alternately cold and hot, I dropped the drawing.
‘Dr Knight?’ Midnight touched my arm. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Of course. I just got caught up in looking at your amazing artwork.’
What the hell just happened? That’ll teach me to skip meals. My blood sugar must have taken a dive when I leaned over. I’ll make a quick dash out for food after Midnight’s appointment. Or maybe I’m coming down with something.
‘I’m glad you like the pictures. I was nervous about showing you. I don’t ever do that. Show them, I mean.’
Breathe, Kismet.
‘I love the drawings. And it’s great that you trust me enough to share them with me. I appreciate that.’ I smiled and pointed at the images. ‘Do you want to leave them out while we have our session, or would you like to put them away?’
She thought for a few seconds, then retrieved her portfolio. ‘I think I’ll put them away for now.’
While she gathered the art, I picked up my pad and pen from an end table and sat in my usual chair, trying to recover from the strange sensations. I practised a few seconds of conscious breathing and felt myself calm.
Maybe I shouldn’t keep blowing off my yearly exams. What if I’m pre-diabetic or something?
She started to sit across from me, then moved further away. I wasn’t surprised. After taking the huge step of exposing her inner world through her artwork, it made sense she’d need to retreat and reassert her defences.
‘So, Midnight, what would you like to talk about today?’
‘I want to talk about Dev and the vampires.’ She nodded as if she was trying to convince herself, then laughed. ‘Hey, that sounds like the name of a band.’
What? Really? No way! I thought this would take weeks.
Surprise must have shown on my face because she grinned. ‘You weren’t expecting that, were you? You didn’t think I’d tell you about them yet.’
‘You’re very insightful, and quite right – I wasn’t expecting it. You told me on Friday that Dev didn’t want you to talk about him. Why have you changed your mind?’
Is she questioning the control this boy has over her?
‘Well.’ She tapped her hands on the arms of the chair. ‘Two reasons. One, I’ve decided to be honest with you because I like you.’
‘Thank you. I like you, too.’
‘And second, because Dev told me to.’
So much for questioning his control . . . But that’s okay. Don’t jump to conclusions. There’s lots of time to tweak their relationship.
‘Hmm. I wonder why Dev would ask you to tell me these secrets?’
She unclipped her cape at her throat and shrugged it off her shoulders. ‘He said therapy wouldn’t do me any good if I didn’t tell the truth.’
Maybe this boy has more going for him than I thought. Or maybe this is his way of asking for help. Midnight is certainly fixated on him.
‘How does the idea of telling me the truth make you feel?’
‘A little scared, because I’ve never told anyone about this before. But I liked what you said last time about me being courageous. So that’s what I’m trying to be.’
That’s progress.
‘Wonderful. Being emotionally courageous can be a difficult thing. It’s great that you’re challenging yourself.’ I gave her an encouraging smile. ‘So, the vampires. Tell me about them.’
I’m picking up strong intuitive feelings about Twilight and Vampire Diaries. I wonder which one most influenced her fantasy?
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Why don’t you just start at the beginning?’
She nodded. ‘Okay. I met the vampires right after I graduated from high school last year. My friends all went down to this cool club that used to be a hu
ge old church in the funky section of downtown – it’s called The Crypt. It’s only a few blocks from here. We’ve got the best fake IDs, so we just slide right in. But it’s weird – even though we’ve got the perfect IDs and they let us in, they never let us buy alcohol. If we go up to the bar, the bartender just laughs at us. Pisses me off. What’s up with that?’
‘Hmm.’ I scribbled notes on my pad. It was always a delicate dance to get the words on paper without letting my clients feel abandoned by my split attention. I always wound up with a cramp in my hand after each session from all the fast writing.
Interesting that the club won’t sell drinks to her. Maybe they’ve got in trouble for serving minors before?
She worried her bottom lip with the tip of one of her fangs, as if it gave her time to think before speaking again. ‘Anyway, there are several levels to the club and one of them, down in the basement – we call it the dungeon – is private. There are curtains over the doorway, but one time, my friend Emerald and I, we waited ’til the guy who was guarding the door left for a minute and then we sneaked down and peeked in through the crack and saw all these amazing people,’ she reported, an expression of awe on her face from the memory.
‘Amazing people?’
‘Yeah, two different kinds, really. A whole bunch of kids around my age, maybe a few years older, all dressed up, sort of goth, but not really, wearing white paint on their faces and red on their lips. Then there were the others. So beautiful. They wore regular stuff like leather, and didn’t have the white makeup on, but they were totally awesome. They looked a little older, maybe in their 20s or 30s, and they all had gorgeous long hair . . .’ She stared off for a moment, her mouth hanging loosely open, lost in the vision.
‘So they were totally awesome?’
She nodded slowly. ‘Totally.’
‘And then what happened?’
Am I sure I want to know?
‘We were just standing there, scoping out the room, and a hand came through the curtains, opened them, and the hottest guy I’ve ever seen asked if we wanted to come in. Emerald didn’t want to go – she’s afraid of everything – but I really wanted to check out all those people, so I said yes. The gorgeous man reached out, took my hand and actually kissed the back of it and said his name was Devereux. I thought I was going to pass out just from looking at him. There was something about his eyes—’ She paused and glanced over at me, trying to gauge my reaction before she shared any more details.
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