Love in Darkness (Castles on the Sand 2)

Twelve

The next morning, as I pick my way through a bowl of cereal, the doorbell rings. I go to open it and find Kailie, gripping the frame on either side, posing like a model or… something. “Hey,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow and don’t answer.

She makes a grab for my wrist and I jump back. “In my car, now,” she orders.

“What?”

“Don’t mess with me. I’m a whackjob, remember? You have no idea what I might do.”

“Very funny.”

“Just go. Come on. It’ll be all right, okay?”

“Kailie…”

“Whoa, hang on. Lemme see your hands.”

I fold my arms and tuck my hands in my armpits.

“Seriously, let me see. I’m really not screwing around now.”

I clench and unclench my jaw, then unfold my arms and show her my hands, which have pockmark scabs and several nails that have gone black from blood seeping underneath.

“That all since last night?”

“I dunno. It’s just one of those things.”

“In my car, now, Alex. This is serious.”

I don’t even bother to say, “Or else?” I just go.

***

Dr. Maliki is in his waiting room when we arrive at his office on Main Street. Kailie and I have the same psychiatrist. Everyone in Pelican Bluffs has the same psychiatrist and he works half days much of the time, that’s how small this town is. He’s a tall guy with a head so bald that it shines like a waxed billiard ball and Coke bottle glasses that make his brown eyes seem to jump right off his face. His whole practice, waiting room and office, is decorated with Middle Eastern flair, from Persian carpets to intricate wood inlay furniture. Given there’s no receptionist sitting behind the desk right now, I gather he’s come in outside of his usual hours just to see me.

I know things are bad when I see his expression, which is dead serious. If he’s treated Kailie, I assume he’s got the same longsuffering attitude as everyone else when it comes to her quirks. His expression says loud and clear that this is no quirk.

“Show him your hands,” Kailie orders.

With an irritated sidelong glance at her, I hold out my hands.

Dr. Maliki takes one look, then lifts his gaze to my face. “How’ve you been feeling?”

When other people have asked that, I’ve been irritated, but when Dr. Maliki asks that, I feel like a kid caught with shoplifted cigarettes.

“Alex,” says Kailie. “I am going to illegally gate crash your session with him and make sure you talk, because given the condition you’re in, you’re clearly keeping too much to yourself.”

Dr. Maliki glances at her, then looks at me. “Can she come back with us?”

The fact that he’s asking rather than shutting her down tells me what my answer has to be. I nod.

“Come on back, then.”

I follow him into his office and Kailie stays right on my tail, seating herself on the loveseat next to me, close enough to see my every move, but not close enough to touch me. The office is decorated to exude peace and calm, from the deep, springy cushions of the couch to the photograph of sunrise over a Middle Eastern city on the wall. The opposite wall is all built in bookshelves, full of leatherbound volumes that he once confided to me he got at estate sales and had never read. But they do look cool.