Trine
The doctor comes to my show.
I spot him while we’re doing soundcheck, so he’s there pretty early. The crowd isn’t here yet, and he’s drinking something that looks like fizzy water. Maybe I was right. Maybe heisstraightedge.
The stage is outside, under a big canopy, with a fan blowing right at us. The girls are chatting among each other when I slip past them and walk to his table. "Hi," I say. "I didn’t think you were coming tonight."
"Change of plans," he says, smiling at me. He’s wearing different glasses than he was the night before, clear frames this time. I wonder how many pairs he has at home. He’s wearing the jacket he’d hung on the chair behind him, though, an off-red bomber with black sleeves and a dark collar. It’s weird, because we’re at a punk show, but I think he might actually be the coolest person in this entire brewery. He notices me drinking him in and says absolutely nothing about it, catching my gaze and smiling at me when I finally land back on his face. "I’m looking forward to hearing the band. I looked you up on social media; you guys have a hell of a following."
"It’s ‘cause Bryony keeps telling everyone we’re going to flash them if they come to our shows," I say, smiling at him. "We always sell out a venue when she decides to post thirst traps."
His smile widens. "Who’s Bryony?"
"Our lead singer," I say, cocking my head toward the stage. "The one with the dark pink hair? Studded leather jacket?"
"Oh, yeah," he says, shielding his eyes with the palm of his hand. "I see her."
"She’s insane," I say. I mean it fondly. I wonder if he can tell. He turns slightly so he can look at me, his midnight eyes narrowing. God, he’s gorgeous. The sunlight is catching in his hair, blue-black and silky straight.
"Do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Flash the audience."
"No," I say. "There’s something to be said for a little mystery."
He laughs. "What time does your set end?"
"Eleven," I reply, shrugging my shoulders. "Not very hardcore, but hey, they have neighbors."
"What are you doing after that?"
I furrow my brow. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this man was hitting on me, and he can’t be because of the exorcism and all. He’s a psychiatrist. It’s probably illegal or something, I don’t know.
"Packing up and going home," I say. "Also not very punk, but I’m not nineteen anymore. My days of doing ket in a public bathroom are behind me."
He furrows his brow, a finger curled on his chin. He’s wearing a silver ring on his index finger engraved with black. It’s hard to see since it’s small, but I think it’s Japanese. "What’s ket?"
I feel the blood rushing to my face. I should’ve really kept my dumb joke to myself. I didn’t expect him to be this naïve, but then again, I’ve never even seen him drink something alcoholic, so I should’ve probably expected it, I—
He laughs. "I’m fucking with you, Trine," he says. "That was adorable, though. I didn’t expect you to get that flustered. You seem pretty unflappable."
"Thanks, it’s a defense mechanism from years of trauma," I say. "But then, if I wanted a session, I’d be paying you for that, wouldn’t I?"
"I don’t take private patients," he says, his eyes glimmering in the sunlight. "No matter how much you want to pay me."
"You should’ve heard how much I was going to offer you," I say. He inches closer to me, just a little, but it’s enough for me to see the ridges of his strawberry lips. "And if you’re independently wealthy, then you would’ve probably jumped on board just because I’m a fascinating case study."
"Are you?"
I laugh, shaking my head. "I said that because it made me sound interesting, but halfway through speaking, I realized that you’re literally an exorcist," I say. "I’m probably as boring as they come compared to you. You guys must all go to your possession conferences in the Vatican or whatever."
"I’ve never been to the Vatican," he says.
"But you don’t deny the conference thing."
"I’m a conference man," he says. "Show me a good conference and I have a ticket for it, regardless of my interests. Possession conference? I’m there. Bricklaying conference? You betcha. True crime? VIP tickets only, please."