“Not really much point when we know how this is ending, right?” I shrug. “Would just make both our nights harder.”
He keeps watching me, with no trace of trust.
“You know, I’m a psychologist. If you need to talk, all I can do is listen.”
“I don’t need any weaknesses addressed.”
“It’s not always weaknesses. It’s stress I help with mostly. A lot of people feel more comfortable talking to me because legally I can’t share anything that’s said. Patient confidentiality is important.”
“Stop talking.”
I do, for a moment, but I feel my phone vibrating. It pauses, and vibrates again, like a ring. I just hope it means I’m actually calling someone. It stops and I nod. “My name’s Valerie. I’m in grad school right now and really need to have my life decisions checked if I’ve ended up here.”
He looks at me again, just watching. He’s pale, nervous. He keeps fidgeting. I lean my head to the side. “Are you okay?”
“I told you to shut up! I don’t need your help!”
“Okay.” I nod. “Then can you tell me why we’re here? I don’t know you. I don’t really know what happened. For all I know, you’re some undercover cop that’s just making sure I’m safe.”
“You’re not that stupid.” He snorts. “You know you’re not leaving here.”
“My patients will be upset.” I bite the inside of my cheek.
When he doesn’t answer and turns his back to me, I take a slow breath. What else can I do? He’s a man, a conflicted man. Coming on to him would be risky. Really risky. I’ve tried playing innocent – didn’t work. What will establish some kind of trust, even the shallowest kind?
I tremble and sniff. I’m fucking terrified. I am. Maybe I should show it. Just give in and be a little authentic. I could ask for a favor.
“Sir?”
He turns.
He stares at my face for a long moment as tears swim over my eyes. “Can you record a message for my mom and get it to her somehow?”
He walks to me and grabs my hair. “Why would I?”
“I haven’t talked to her in years.” I sniff. “I want her to know I still love her, even after everything. That I’m leaving her my life insurance so she can leave my dad and finally start her own life.”
“Why would she want to leave him?”
I blink at my tears. “He’s a mean drunk. Hits her and she thinks she deserves it. I ran when I had the chance, but she … she didn’t. I cut them both off so he couldn’t hurt me … I should have gone back for her. Please, just find a way to let her know I love her. It’s all I can ask for.”
He lifts my chin as my lips tremble. I’m playing it up a little, but it’s what he expects. I can tell. He gently wipes one of my tears. “That’s why you became a counselor?”
“If I fixed enough people, I could fix her. Or I thought I could. I just want to protect her,” I whimper. “You understand that right? That’s why we’re here.”
He considers that. “I had a very good friend. We were never supposed to know each other. It was wrong. But his son … his son isn’t as strong as he needs to be. He needs help.”
“Then he’s lucky to have you.” I whimper. “I wish my mom had someone like you. Then she’d be safe. She’d be happy.”
I pretend to wipe my eyes on my shoulder, but I roll them instead. Stupid fucker. My phone buzzes again, a three-beat vibration that tells me it’s a phone call. I hit the button and continue.
“You’d be able to do more than I ever could,” I say.
“You shouldn’t have been there. It was just the wrong timing.” He shakes his head. “Doing this … is not something I enjoy.”
I nod. “We do terrible things for the ones we love.”
“I couldn’t tell my friend something, and perhaps, in your last moments, you can absolve me.”