“Are you ready?” I could help but want to smirk at the blush that crept across her face, our last encounter probably playing through her thoughts as she rose from her seat.
“Sure, just let me put this in my room,” backing up out of the doorway, I let her lead the way back down the hall, pausing just long enough for her to set her book down on her dresser. She closed the door completely before leading the way out of the ward, waiting for me at every door so I could badge us through.
Just like every other time we’d make the journey to my office, we walked in companionable silence with a healthy distance between us. I followed behind her, letting her lead as I stayed one pace behind. She wore her hair down today, the gold strands long, swaying against her back as she moved.
As she reached the door to my office, she paused, waiting for me to scan my badge to let her into the room. What she saw when I opened the door for her had her freezing in her steps, my chest almost bumping into her at the sudden halt.
“What’s this?” She asked, voice as quiet as a church mouse.
Inside, lying in wait, and judging by how hesitant she was acting, apparently going to jump out and bite her, was what I had pulled together at the last minute for her. In the center of the room, where my sessions usually took place, I had the best imitation of a date I could come up with, given the limitations I had to work around with the clinic's rules. Even though anyone on the campus could be subject to search for security purposes, I wasn’t ever looked at with suspicion. I probably could have snuck in more contraband than I did, but it wasn’t worth the risk. This would be strictly by the book, at least when it came to what I brought inside; the rest of it, I might as well have set the book on fire for as much as I was following it with her.
On the small table between the couch and chairs sat a white linen tablecloth, small enough that the ends didn’t reach the floor. Different-sized candles, battery-powered ones with faux flames,sat around the food I had set in the center. I’d turned off the overhead light when I left, leaving only the lamp on my desk on, along with the candles.
“What is this?” Rae repeated. I squeezed my body behind hers, since she seemed incapable of moving, to fit inside the room and close the door behind us. The last thing I needed was for someone to walk by and witness whateverthiswas.
“This is the best I can do under the circumstances,” I gently prodded her back, a small attempt to get her to walk forward.
“Is that -?” She didn’t finish her question, her eyes almost as wide as a deer in the headlights. I’d be surprised by her reaction if I didn’t know just how poorly she was treated before. Rae, at this moment, was truly on edge, faced with a kind gesture and not sure how to receive it.
“Mexican chips and white sauce? Yes, from the place downtown.”
“That’s my favorite comfort food. Well, that and wine.” Her feet made it a few more steps, her body so tense, but I could see the light behind her eyes, wanting this to be genuine.
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t bring a bottle of wine, but I did get you this,” I picked up the stuffed animal from the chair I usually sat in during my sessions, patiently waiting for her weary hands to reach out and take it.
The lighting didn’t quite set the ambiance I had been hoping for, again, limited resources, but it was doing the trick. Alower tone for a more somber mood, her eyes glistening along her lower lids as she cradled the stuffed toy to her chest.
“I know how much you miss your dog,” I was surprised at how soft my own voice came out as I found myself wanting to be gentle with her, wanting to give her a reason to relax around me.
“Thank you,” she said, tucking her head down against its soft body, the German Shepherd held tightly in her grip as I led her around the table.
With such an informal situation, I sat on the floor, directly in front of the chair I usually occupied, Rae taking a seat with her back against the couch, still holding the stuffed animal. It was nice, small, and intimate, just the two of us with a Mexican appetizer to share.
Rae reached out and picked up a chip, dipping it in the melted cheese before placing it in her mouth. The look on her face when she devoured it, how happy she was, made something come alive inside me—something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Like a childhood friend coming back from the dead, a lost puzzle piece finally found and put in its place. Something just felt right.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were stalking me,” she flashed me a look over her glasses.
“I find it in poor taste that you would think I’d sink so low as to imitate the lunatic who is actually stalking you. Besides, I’d be much better at it; you’d never know I was out there.” She laughed,a beautiful sound given the topic was a rather serious one, but her dark humor was something I could appreciate.
“You’re too big, you’d stick out in a crowd,” she helped herself to more tortilla chips.
“That’s where you’re wrong, it’s all about blending in, knowing your victim, and knowing how to remain unseen even when you’re in plain sight,” I liked teasing her, getting her to argue with me.
“Well, yeah, you’d have to blend in, can’t exactly go around in a hockey mask, wielding a machete and expect your target not to notice you.”
“Those movies should have ended after the third one. No way should that giant psycho ever have made it to Manhattan, let alone outer space.” I ate a little bit myself, enjoying her company more than the food.
“Which is why only losers who like the gore instead of an actual story love that franchise. There’s way better out there, both visually and psychologically stimulating. Stalking babysitters, for example, now that’s a classic setup for a Halloween horror movie.”
“You mean the ones where they’re always making the mistake of running upstairs, never checking to make sure the killer is really dead, and surprised when he pops back up again in the final scene to kill the last girl standing?” She made a face at me, obviously a little displeased that I used a little logic against her argument.
“He doesn’t always kill the last girl. Virgins always survive.”
“I wouldn’t want to live if I were that old and still a virgin, at that point I’d just let him impale me with the knife,” she laughed, nearly dropping some of the white sauce on her black sweater from a chip held precariously in her hand. “What about you? How would you die in one of your beloved films?”
Rae sat for a moment, mulling it over while eating, and I found myself realizing I could easily fall into a comfortable habit with her. I could picture us outside these walls, eating in a real restaurant, or at my apartment. The scenes played out like a movie in my mind—how she could be someone I wanted to be around for both the exciting and mundane times.
“Is that a trick question so you can psychoanalyze whatever I say?”
