“Stop it,” she gritted out.
Her wrist nudged the faucet and she bent forward, splashing cold water on her face. She stared into the drain until her heartbeat felt less erratic and her breathing leveled out.
Migrating to the living room, she grabbed her bag as well as her phone to order an Uber. A notification of a new text halted her opening the app and instead she tapped the message icon. The newest thread rendered her immobile.
D:You may think I’m cruel, but I’d never hire you unless you had a reliable means of transportation.
Check the flowerpot at the bottom of the stairs.
She had an influx of nausea and regretted skipping lunch as the words on the screen stared back at her. Had he been at the apartment complex? When? Was he still there?
Her hands shook as she tried to lock the front door.
As she clomped down the stairs, her gaze did not stray from the potted succulent on the bottom step. It wasn’t there when she got home from class. Kenna knelt and snatched the glimmering set of keys lying in the soil. Hand closing around them, she scanned the parking lot but had no trouble spotting the car that didn’t belong.
Dayton’s station wagon.
The hideous wood side paneling blurred into its beige paint as a wave of disorientation hit.
Moments she had shared with him in that car, pleasant or otherwise, came flooding back and she froze on the spot while her mind flicked through the scenes she’d fought to forget but proved unforgettable.
While she wasn’t terribly familiar with cars, she managed to open the driver’s door after fiddling with the antiquated key-in-lock business for a few minutes.
She climbed inside and all of her senses became numb, useless, so as not to feel the warmth of the seat or smell the mint cologne lingering in the cabin. The scent cracked Kenna’s resolve and it became easier to understand why the other women had romanticized their memories of Dayton to some degree. One pull of the cologne and she felt like she’d taken a hit of the world’s purest drug. So what if it left her vision hazy or accelerated her breathing?
But the smell was habit-forming and she knew she needed to cut the cord before an addiction formed.
Tenuous raindrops pelted the windshield. She got out of the station wagon and ordered her ride, eyes misting over as she waited in the rain.
* * *
Upon being dropped off in front of the practice, she received a message from Dayton telling her to park around back. Street parking was reserved for patients. Of course, she had not driven, though she walked around the building for curiosity’s sake and caught sight of, what she assumed to be, his new car. It was sleek, dark, and sporty.
Somehow, it fit him as well as the Caprice.
A digital bell chimed as Kenna swept through the front door and was met with an uninhabitable, subzero environment. The A/C must have been set to tundra.
The waiting area was modern and minimal. White walls. Metal blinds. There were a pair of gray chairs with wooden frames separated by a small, round, glass table that housed a few magazines.
So far her and Dayton’s new dynamic operated strictly on demands and instructions. Settling in behind the check-in desk was no different. A neon sticky note reading ‘for my A.A.’ adorned a legal pad sheet. He hired her on as his ‘administrative assistant’ because ‘secretary’ was apparently too sexist and dated even for a man who fooled around with former patients.
Peeling the note away from the paper, she scanned the lines containing his illegible handwriting.
Greet patients upon arrival
Have them fill out the intake form and collect insurance information if they aren’t an existing patient
When you see a patient exit the leftmost door, send in the next
My lunch hour ends at one, flip the sign on the front door back to ‘open’ upon your arrival each day
She scurried over to change the sign before reading further. Change the trash. Clean the bathroom. Answer the phone. Schedule and reschedule appointments.
No breaks. According to Dayton, ‘four hours of work doesn’t warrant a break.’
Finally, she came upon the final request.
Stay out of my personal affairs