Devil You Know(51)
JANE FIDGETS beside me, restlessly flicking through magazine, after magazine. She’s on edge, and despite our lengthy conversation on the way here, she’s still unsure if this is the right thing to do.
“I’ll be here the whole time,” I reassure.
She looks over, flicks me a brief smile, and goes back to rifling through the pages for nothing in particular at all.
“Jane Darrow?” a short, round woman calls her name from the doorway.
We’re in the waiting area of the counselor’s offices. Four days ago I showed her the listing for this place, and she appeared eager to try anything that would help her out. This morning, the reality of it has sunken in, and she’s retreating into her shell.
“Relax,” I say, catching her elbow as she stands. “You’re not the first.”
She nods, and then takes me by surprise. Her lips leave a patch of tingly skin where they connect with my cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and disappears.
A few minutes pass before I can collect up the strewn remnants of my self-control, and put the public charade back in place. I was completely not expecting that. We asked on arrival if I could sit in, provide her support, but apparently due to the privacy laws, non-members of family aren’t welcome.
I glance around the waiting room at the sterile décor, broken up with a pot-plant here and there. Kids toys lay strewn in one corner, and a wastebasket overflows with Styrofoam cups beside the coffee machine, which looks as though it’s seen better days.
The appointment is for an hour, so I take the opportunity alone to walk outside and place a call. The sun hides behind ominous clouds, and a cool breeze whips around my face as I look for a place to stand out of the noise of the sidewalk.
A café across the road appears relatively quiet, and I make my way over, order a coffee, and take a seat. I scroll through the missed calls, hit dial, and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hey, bro. Thought you were avoiding me.”
“Nah,” I tell Ty. “Had a lot on my plate.”
“Right. Well, I’ve got a job for you.”
“Today?” I’d hoped to have a break, spend the time with Jane.
“Man, you know this shit doesn’t rest.”
“True that. So, what is it?”
“Run of the mill; tweaker owing debts he’ll never have enough to pay. I’ll message you the details.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s Jane?” Ty asks the question that’s probably on all of the guys’ minds after the other night.
“Making progress. She’s at a counselor right now. Thought it might help if she talked it through with someone.”
“Dude,” Ty admonishes.
“What?”
“You have all the advice, but you never follow it. When are you going to talk it through with someone?”
“What have I got to say?” I frown, annoyed that he has to pester me again about the same old shit.
“I think you’d be surprised if you gave yourself the chance to let that fucking stew in your head out for a change.”
“Look who’s talking?”
“Hey,” Ty retorts. “I’ve got a therapist. I’m not the one who can’t admit he has a problem—I’m the one who can’t fix it, is all. You, bro—you have the chance to.”
I know what he’s referring to: my dad. Ty knows he’s the reason why I left home, and took my chances on the street. Ty knows how my mother died. I’ve just never shared exactly what it was about my dad that pushed me to the point of giving up on him—on us.
“He’s been trying to call me, you know.”
“Then fucking talk to him, you douche. He’s obviously got something to tell you.”
“Can’t be any good.”
“Won’t know until you hear it.”
I sigh. “Fuck you. Why do you always have to be right?”
“Can’t sort my own shit out, so I’ve gotta be good at working yours out for you. Right?”
“Whatever. I better get back. Catch ya later.”
I finish my coffee in contemplative silence, and then make my way back across the street. Jane’s still in her appointment when I arrive in the waiting room, so I take a seat against the far wall, and wait her out.
I should call my dad back. What if he’s trying to get hold of me for some family emergency? Although, I can’t see that happening. When I left home, his brothers were the only family other than him I had left. None of my grandparents are alive. I don’t have any siblings. What could he be so desperate to get in touch about?
Jane emerges twenty minutes later: red-eyed, and smiling. Odd combination, but it works. The counselor shakes her hand, and gestures to the reception desk. I stand, and walk up behind her as she makes an appointment for next week. Her hand seeks mine, and I wind my fingers between hers while she sorts out a suitable time.