THE THERAPIST

06

𝐂 𝐡 𝐚 𝐩 𝐭 𝐞 𝐫  𝟔

     A clink, clink, clink sound was what jarred me up from sleep. I sat bolt upright on the bed, my eyes moving swiftly across the room. I flicked the duvet and realized I was still in the pantsuit I had worn to the funeral.

     Sighing, I moved to the edge of the bed and stood. My head ached so much, I wanted to faint. Clink! What was that sound and where was it coming from?

     I strode to the window and pulled back the curtain, my eyes widening at the sight of the car in my driveway. That’s not my car! Oh my God, Garry. He brought me home. That explained why I was still in my pantsuit. I must have had too much to drink.

     I went to the nightstand and checked the clock. 7:00 A.M. I would be late for work. It was a bad idea to go to that bar. How could I have been so reckless? In all my years as an adult, I hadn’t made such a stupid decision and let my guard down. Quickly, I took off the pantsuit and went into the shower, letting the warm water flush my skin red. I still heard the clink, which meant Garry was in the house and heroically trying to fix breakfast, an action reminiscent of our marriage days. My mind came down to two things—he didn’t go home last night, and he’d carried me to bed. How come I couldn’t remember anything?

     I should be thankful that he’d brought me home safe and sound to my humble abode, but I wasn’t. He shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t need him in my house, especially now that I was trying to move on. Having Garry around was going to reopen old wounds that failed to heal completely. But on the other hand, I was glad he brought me home. He protected me from any harm. A smile plastered on my face. I knew I should hate him, but I didn’t, and that was what annoyed me. After what he did to Mathew and me, I shouldn’t be anywhere close to him. I’d have to set things straight. He wasn’t welcomed into my life. To me, he was dead.

     I toweled off and went over to the sink. An excruciating pain tugged my head as I brushed my teeth. I moved over to the medicine cabinet, grabbing the container of painkillers. This would be the last time I’d ever set foot in a bar. I promised myself as I swallowed the drug. Placing my hand on the rim of the sink, I bent over and drank from the gurgling water.

     I came out of the bathroom and pulled on the white blouse and slacks I had kept for today. I blew my hair with a dryer, then made it into a ponytail. I spent little time on my face. A short while later, I climbed down the staircase and found Garry in the kitchen, wearing the same suit from yesterday with the coat off, and an apron that made him look very funny.

     The morning sun poured into the kitchen. I squinted. “What are you doing?”

     The corners of his lips twitched into a smile. “Tryin’ to fix you breakfast. I figured you’d be late when you wake up. You slept in the bar yesterday.” He stared right into my eyes, which were flaring dangerously. “If I hadn’t brought you home, chances were that the bartender would’ve called a cab for you, or you’d have spent the night in the bar. You were so drunk you couldn’t walk.”

     He said them without a care in the world. This was bad. I acted like a teenager yesterday. I didn’t know if I was angry at him or myself for behaving so childishly.

     I snapped, “So I should thank you?”

     He filled the mug with coffee from the machine, unperturbed by my growing irritation. “That’s the appropriate thing to say to the person who only tried to help, but I don’t expect you to thank me.”

     “You need to leave.” My tummy rumbled again, and the aroma that filled the kitchen made my mouth watery.

     He cast me a look, flipping whatever was in the pan. “Sure of that? I could give you a ride to work. You left your car at the parking garage.”

     “I will order a ride,” I retorted.

     “Your phone’s in my car and I’ve got the keys. One way or the other, you’ll need me.” He picked the mug of coffee and directed it toward me. “I’m sure you’re starving.”

     His nonchalance only made my anger worse. But then I realized I was overreacting, and there was no need to get angry. All he tried to do was help me. He was right about one thing. I was starving.

     Rolling my eyes, I collected the mug and murmured a thank-you, then walked to the kitchen island. I sat and sipped, the coffee rejuvenating me. He neared the table and placed a plate of omelette on it.

     “You’re welcome,” he said and went back to the countertop. Then he joined me, and we ate together in stony silence.

     I was the first to finish. I stood and moved to the sink, then washed the plates. My ponytail moving wildly behind my back, I left the kitchen. I waited for seconds, then minutes in the living room. He came out of the kitchen, the keys dangling in his hands. I had no choice now. I’d go with him for today, and I wouldn’t see him again. Easier said than done. I sensed that I’d be seeing him more often now.

     As we walked side by side to his sleek BMW, he said, “There’s something I want to tell you.”

     “If it’s about us, I don’t want to hear it.”

     He looked at me. “No. It isn’t about us.”

     “I’m listening.”

     “There was a figure last night standing on the street and watching the house.” He shrugged. “I don’t know; it could be a random person just admiring the view. I thought I should let you know.”

     A figure? Watching the house? It didn’t sound good. That was the last thing I wanted to hear. “Did you see his face?” I asked, opening the side door.

     “No. It was dark, and he wore a hood.”

     I felt a tingle in my hands—something I got whenever I had a bad feeling. There had been a figure in this neighborhood, and I had let my guard down by drinking too much. If not for Garry, I wouldn’t have found out. I looked around the neighborhood, swinging my eyes from the tree-lined street, the cars parallel parked to the side, and then the surrounding houses. If someone was here yesterday, then one of the neighbors would’ve seen him or her too.

     I stepped inside the car and fastened the seatbelt. Could it have been a random person like Garry had said? Possibly. Too much had happened in the past months for me to believe this was nothing. Three of my clients were dead—killed brutally—and someone was looking at my house. This isn’t a coincidence. Someone’s watching me.

     There was a lump in my throat. I held my neck and swallowed hard.

     Garry gripped the wheel, pulling a face at me. “Is everything all right?”

     I blinked hard and turned. When I looked into his eyes, I saw concern in them. He’d brought me home, made me breakfast and even told me I wasn’t safe indirectly. I realized how much I needed the presence of a man. I had been alone for too long.

     I bobbed my head. “Yes.”

     He stretched a hand toward my face and picked a strand of hair from my undereye.

     I set aside my pride and did the right thing this time. “Thanks, Garry, for bringing me home and making me breakfast. I truly appreciate it.”

     He smiled at me. “You’re welcome,” he said and started the car.