Say Nothing... (The Speak Series Book 2)

by Roth, T. A.

  "No, Mother, she is not on drugs." I bark out defensively. "She's just been under a lot of stress at work and . . .”

  "And what?" she asks.

  And . . . she was attacked as a child, and she has these God-awful nightmares that I can't stop from happening. I wish we had the relationship my grandmother and I had. I could tell her anything. My mother and I don't have that, and I don't think we ever will.

  "Just personal stuff I would rather not get into. Look, Mom, I'm just leaving the gym. I'll give you a call later."

  "Once again, I didn't call to upset you. I was just concerned. For both of you."

  "Thank you. I'll call you soon, okay." I click the line before she has a chance to continue; I'll blame it on a dropped call should she bring it up later.

  I let the flood gates open the minute my butt hits the driver's seat. All the frustration, anger, and fear pour out of me in one big, snotty mess. I make it to work a few minutes early and touch up my makeup before getting into the building. My eyes are still a little red, so I'll blame it on allergies should anyone ask.

  "Good morning,” Hilda calls out excitedly as I walk in.

  "Good morning,” I say, training my eyes to the carpet so she doesn't notice their red rims.

  I boot up my computer, and with my full coffee mug in hand, I vow to keep my mind busy with work.

  To my surprise, Mr. Benton comes out of his office a few minutes later. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't even think of checking if either of them were here.

  "Morning, Ari. Can you come into my office, please?" I grab my legal pad and go to get up.

  "You won't need that. Just you." My stomach drops. Are they firing me? That would be the cherry on top of my shit sundae.

  "Oh, okay," I say following him into his office. Mr. Warner is inside sitting on one of the chairs.

  "Will you please close the door behind you and take a seat." My heart begins to race, and I'm thinking of all the things I could have possibly done wrong.

  I greet Mr. Warner and nervously take a seat.

  "Breathe, Ari, you’re not in trouble," Mr. Benton says chuckling.

  I release the breath I was holding and a little bit of the tension begins to leave my body.

  "Okay,” I say, trading glances back and forth between them.

  "It’s good news, we hope," Mr. Warner chimes in.

  "After all of the media coverage we've received from Timothy Lemon's case, we've been receiving requests to take on more cases. We are a small firm, as you know, so accepting all of them have been impossible." I nod having no idea where this is going.

  "We have some friends who also have a small firm here in L.A., and we've spoken to them about coming on as partners. This will enable us to take on more cases and grow as a firm."

  "So you're probably wondering what this means for you." I turn my gaze to Mr. Warner, who is now trying to explain exactly what I'm thinking.

  "Well, first it means that we're moving offices. This space is too small." A pang of sadness hits me at the thought of leaving Hilda.

  "Where will the offices be moving?" I ask.

  "We found a space that is move-in ready in Century City. The Century Plaza Towers, to be exact." Well, that just added an extra thirty minutes to my commute.

  "We value your work ethic immensely, Ari, and we hope that the commute will not deter you from coming with us. Mr. Warner and I have agreed to give you a twenty percent pay increase and paid parking if you stay on." Holy shit!

  They now have the same look that I had when I walked in. I never boast about what I do for them, but they would be lost without me. They both can barely handle retrieving a voicemail from their smartphone. They'd be up shit creek without a paddle if I quit.

  "Breathe, gentlemen." They both release a breath and begin to chuckle. "The offer sounds amazing. When do we move?"

  "Thank you so much, Ari, and just so you know, you will not be doing the work of four attorneys alone. Mr. Dietrich and Mr. Bell will also be bringing their secretary, Natalie, to the new office."

  I didn't even think of that but am quickly relieved. I'm excited I'll have another secretary to not only talk to but to also share the workload with.

  "We move in two weeks. My nephew, Jeremy, will also be coming on board as a junior associate," Mr. Benton chimes in.

  "Thank you very much for the opportunity. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some packing to do." We shake hands as I exit their office and get back to my desk.

  I exit the shower only to hear the faint ringing of my cell. Rushing over to the nightstand, I'm able to pick up before the last ring.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi." The sound of Ari's sweet voice soothes the unease I've felt all day.

  "I'm sorry," she says.

  "You don't have to be sorry. I just need you to talk to me."

  "I will, and that's kind of why I'm calling. I have some good news, and you were the first person I thought of." I grin.

  "Oh, really? Well, please share."

  "We're moving offices in the next two weeks."

  "Where to?" I ask hesitantly. Please don't let her say out of state.

  "Century City." I let out a sigh of relief. "It's going to add to my commute, so I hesitated for a minute, but they're giving me a twenty percent raise and paying for parking."

  "That's great, babe. We'll celebrate later."

  "Yeah, I might need a drink after my appointment." Dread laces her voice.

  "It won't be that bad. It's a just a first meeting, right? Plus, I'll be right outside if you need me to drive the getaway car." My sarcasm earns me a laugh. It's good to hear her sound like herself again, and I'm thankful this morning's dark cloud has gone away.

  "Okay. Well, I better get back to work. I just wanted to share my good news. I love you."

  "I'm glad you called me. Congrats again. I love you too, more than you know."

  The line clicks, and I feel lighter. The heaviness in my chest has eased, and I do what I've been doing the last few weeks. I sit and wait for her to get off work. Monday can't come soon enough.

  The drive to the therapist’s office is not long enough. My heart is thundering in my chest, and I have to keep reminding myself why in the hell I agreed to do this. Oh yeah, you keep waking your boyfriend up with your crazy night terrors. Also, the man causing those terrors is now popping up everywhere you turn. So it's probably a good idea you kept this appointment.

  The car’s image reflects off the mirrored glass of the seven-story medical building as we pass to find parking. Ben pulls into a spot near the entrance, and I take a deep breath conjuring up the courage I'll need to get through this.

  He places his hand on my knee; it's been bouncing at full speed since he turned off the engine.

  "Hey," he says calling my attention. I'm staring way too hard at a smudge on the front windshield, talking myself off the ledge.

  "Look at me, babe." I reluctantly turn in his direction. His warm amber eyes are filled with concern.

  "It's going to be fine. This is a good thing, remember?" I nod. He's right; I know he's right.

  The woman at the front desk greets us with a smile. Up close, she seems to be in her mid-thirties, but her graying hair and t-shirt with a picture of a Siamese cat and the word Puur-fect written across it aren't doing her any justice. Vonne would be in makeover heaven with this one.

  A faint blush covers her cheeks when she notices Ben standing behind me. I smile inwardly because he still has that same effect on me.

  "Hi, do you have an appointment?" she asks nervously.

  "Yes, with Dr. Stone."

  “Arely Muñoz?”

  “Yes.”

  "Okay, please sign in and fill out these forms, front and back." She hands me a clipboard and stands from her chair. "I will let her know that you're here."

  "Thank you,” I say, taking a seat on one of the chairs that line the walls of the waiting area. Large portraits with motivational quotes fill the room. My eyes stop on each
one—perseverance, frustration, persistence, and focus—all qualities we either lack or hope to possess. I'm suddenly drawn to one with a picture of a firefighter standing in front of large red flames. As I look closer, I notice he's walking toward the raging inferno. The word courage is written in bold yellow letters and underneath is a quote that reads Have the courage to battle what stands between you and success.

  I could only hope to muster up enough courage to tell my truth to this stranger. I've held this secret for so long it was only by chance and lack of sleep that I told Ben, and now, even he doesn't know the whole truth. The anxiety of what I have to share sets in as I try to concentrate on the form in front of me.

  "Arely Muñoz.” A woman who looks straight out of the seventies greets me with a warm smile.

  I turn to Ben, and the fear and panic must be evident in my eyes because he squeezes my hand.

  "I'll be right here," he says, giving my cheek a kiss.

  I follow her down the hall to her office. She's wearing a long, flowy skirt with a matching flowy top. Her too long wavy hair swings past the back of her knees. As we make our way to her office, I notice the decor isn't far off from her outfit. Large dream catchers hang from the walls, and puca shell covered planters with a variety of houseplants sit strategically around the room. A small rock fountain bubbles on top of her desk, and the sound of the water adds an air of calm.

  I picture her smoking weed and listening to the Grateful Dead after a long day's work. A nervous giggle escapes at the thought.

  She closes the door behind me and grins.

  "Sorry," I say as I try to wipe the silly smile off my face. "It's a bad habit when I'm nervous. Really awkward during funerals," I say still grinning. She laughs.

  "Yes. I could see how that would be." She grabs a notepad and pen off her desk and takes a seat on her office chair. Placing the notepad on her lap, she gestures for me to sit.

  A large leather sofa sits against a wall of windows displaying a perfect view of the L.A. skyline. The sight of the retreating sun stops me for a moment.

  "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she says breaking me out of my trance.

  "Yes, it is. How do you possibly get any work done with this view?" I ask.

  "Notice how my desk faces away from that window," she says smiling.

  I smile back not knowing what to do or say next.

  "So let's go ahead and get started, shall we?"

  "Okay," I say nervously.

  "First, let me ask you. Have you ever been to therapy before?"

  "No," I say shaking my head.

  "Okay. Well, then, let me explain how this will work. I want you to know that anything you share with me is completely confidential. Nothing you say leaves this room. Understand?" I nod.

  "I can tell you're a little nervous, and that's completely normal. Today's just a first meeting. We can talk about anything you'd like. I want you to feel safe here."

  I toss that word around for a second. Safe . . . I haven't felt that in weeks, and I'm not sure how to get that feeling back.

  The door shuts behind her, and all the nerves I was suppressing come flooding over me. God, I hope this helps. I pray the therapist can talk her through everything she's been through and that she comes out an even stronger person than she already is. I stare down at my phone screen. Fifty-five minutes to go. If I keep going at this rate, the minutes will start to feel like hours. I open up Facebook and scroll through my newsfeed to pass the time.

  "Is that your girlfriend?" a shaky voice asks from behind the front desk window. I'm the only one in the waiting room, so I assume she's talking to me.

  "Yes," I answer.

  "She's really pretty. Have you been dating long?"

  "Uh . . . thanks. Almost five months." I have no idea why I'm answering her questions.

  "So are things going well?" And that's my cue to leave.

  "Yeah, things are great. Listen, I need to make a phone call. I'm just going to step outside for a bit. Will you let her know I'm just downstairs if she needs me?"

  "Sure thing," she says with a grin.

  Yeah, a Q&A session with crazy cat lady was not on my agenda of things I wanted to spend the next hour doing. We passed a Starbucks in the lobby on the way in, so I take the elevator down and order an iced tea and take a seat at one of the small tables. I prop my legs on the chair across from me and set my alarm for forty-five minutes. This is much better. No questions, no awkward glances. I open up my phone and jump online while I wait.

  "We did some good work today," Dr. Stone says.

  I glance over at the clock on her desk and am surprised that a whole hour has passed.

  "I want you to pick up a notebook or small journal and keep it by your bed. It will help to write down what you remember or what you feel when you have these episodes."

  I wasn't ready to tell her that I know exactly what and who is bringing on my nightmares. It's my first day, and I needed to see what this was about before showing all my cards.

  "Okay. I'll make sure to put one by my bed," I reply.

  "Very good. If your schedule permits, I recommend weekly visits. It will help us get a better idea of your triggers, and hopefully, avoid them altogether."

  If only that were possible. What if your trigger is related to your boyfriend, and he keeps popping in and out of your life? What's the cure for that?

  "Sure, that won't be a problem. My office will be moving to Century City soon. I'm good with this time for the next couple of weeks, but after that, I'm not sure. Getting here by seven might be hard with traffic."

  "That won't be a problem. Caitlyn will handle everything for you. I also have an office in Beverly Hills. We can make appointments to see each other there when the time comes," she says walking me out of her office and toward the front desk.

  "Yes, that would be great."

  "Perfect. It was nice meeting you, Ari, and I look forward to speaking to you again next week."

  "Likewise, thank you,” I say, as she walks away.

  A smiling Caitlyn greets me again as I stand at her desk window.

  "Hi. So would you like me to schedule you another appointment?"

  "Yes, please. Another evening appointment, if you have one available. Thursday, if possible." I'm grateful that Ben came with me, but I doubt he's going to want to spend every Friday night accompanying me to the crazy doctor. Speaking of Ben, I look around the waiting area and notice he's not there.

  "He said he needed to make a phone call and that he would be downstairs if you needed him."

  She must have noticed me looking a little lost.

  "Here you go. We just had a reschedule, so I was able to get you in next Thursday at seven," she says handing me an appointment card.

  "Thanks. See you next week."

  I open the door to the office and almost run smack into Ben.

  "I was just coming to get you," he says, steadying me. He takes a step back, and I follow him into the hall, letting the door shut behind us.

  "Yeah, I thought you ditched me. I was getting ready to call Uber," I say joking.

  He pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head.

  "No, the cat lady was giving me the creeps, so I waited downstairs." My face is pressed against his chest muffling a giggle.

  "What? Was she propositioning you to father her kittens?"

  "Funny," he says rolling his eyes. "So how did it go?"

  "I'm cured. Let's go," I say pulling his hand toward the bank of elevators.

  He tugs on my hand making me stop. His face is humorless as I turn to look at him.

  "You don't have to give me a play-by-play. I just want to know if you liked her and if you're thinking of coming back." The look on his face is so sincere, I feel like a complete bitch for being so flippant.

  I shorten the distance between us, wrap my arms around his neck and give him a quick kiss.

  "I'm sorry," I say looking at him from under my lashes. "She was fine. I guess."

  "Fine?"
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br />   "Yeah. Once I got over my nervous giggle fit, it was fine. She's just a lot more granola than I was expecting."

  "Granola?"

  "Are you a parrot? You know, the armpit hair growing, no deodorant wearing, free love, weed smoking kind of person. Granola," I repeat.

  "Sometimes, I wonder about you," he says shaking his head.

  "Which is exactly why you have me talking to the good old hippie doctor," I say elbowing him in the ribs.

  "Let's just go," he says in exasperation. I follow him to the elevators, noticing the shift in his mood.

  We spend the elevator ride down to the lobby in complete silence. I'm not sure what I said or did to piss him off. He continues his silent treatment on the walk to the car. I hate confrontation but having him shut down for no reason has me on the defensive. I wait for him to slide into the driver's seat before I ask.

  "Are we doing the whole silent treatment thing? Just so I'm on the same page."

  He rolls his neck and releases a heavy sigh. He waits for a beat before answering and I can see his frustration.

  "I just want you to take this seriously," he says, staring out the front windshield. He doesn’t have all the facts, and I have to remember that before I say things I won't be able to take back.

  "I think I took it pretty seriously." His eyes finally meet mine. "Did you forget this is new for me? I suck at talking about my feelings, especially anything having to do with my past. Sometimes I use humor to lighten the mood."

  Frustrated by the fact we're in a confined space and I can’t storm off, I resort to slumping in my seat and looking out the window. The lump in my throat and the threat of tears is making me angry.

  "Just take me home," I mutter under my breath. I knew it would be better to come alone and I’m quickly regretting dragging him into this.

  His warm hand wraps around my neck, and I close my eyes refusing to look at him. He tugs me toward him, and I finally relent.

  Resting his forehead on mine, I feel his minty breath whisper across my lips as he cradles my face. His thumbs rub small circles across my cheeks as the knot in my throat gives way to tears.