He has no idea at the hoops I have to jump through just to have a semi-normal life now. Three years ago, I finally got to start living on my own. I even celebrated something so small and insignificant to most people in their twenties.
Chase calls to me from the doorway, but I just turn and give a tight wave before getting in my car. I wish I could drive for a few hours, but I can’t do that. It’s not allowed. I’m not allowed to drive anywhere for longer than fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes exactly. Not a minute over. I can drive anything under fifteen minutes. Any longer, and it has to be someone else driving.
Shaking my head and forgetting the numbers, I back out and head back to my house, pulling out my phone as I turn into my driveway. There’s a phone call I’ve been avoiding.
Aidan hates me having a psychiatrist on call, but only because of the way Dr. Kravitz treated me. I was his favorite lab rat, and he put me on the hamster wheel like I was a science experiment instead of a person. Regardless of his cold and indifferent methods, he possibly saved my life at a much quicker rate than anyone else could have. But since I don’t need psychological boot camp anymore, I now have Dr. Stein, who is a gentle-spoken, very reserved woman who goes at the speed of a turtle with therapy sessions. It took my brother a long time to warm up to my new shrink. And even though she’s a psychiatrist, she doesn’t spoon out drugs. No drugs allowed.
“Dr. Stein’s office. This is Carol. How may I help you?”
“Carol, it’s Mika. I was wondering—”
“Mika, oh my gosh, we’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay? Did something happen? We haven’t been able to reach you or your brother.”
“I called and left my new number. I couldn’t keep my old one. The area code wouldn’t have matched the new residence.”
She grows quiet for a second. “I would have found that message, sweetie,” she says softly. “Is it possible you just think you left that message?”
It is possible, but I’d have to defer to my notes to find out for sure. Sometimes I accidentally write something in on one of my stories and confuse it for a real situation instead of the other way around like it’s intended for.
“Yes,” I say quietly.
“Okay, so I’ll patch you through to Dr. Stein. She’s been worried about you and told me to buzz her immediately if you called.”
The line goes quiet, and seconds later Dr. Stein is picking up. “Mika, it’s so good to hear from you.” The relief and warmth in her tone isn’t her typical clinical tone. It’s not allowed in her field to get too attached, but I know she’s attached to me. She hates Dr. Kravitz and his boot camp methods, and the pity she felt for what I’d suffered has made me special to her.
“Sorry I waited so long.”
“We agreed to speak regularly via phone and Skype, Mika. That was the deal, since I couldn’t find a qualified professional to deal with your particular case in that area that went with your fifteen minute driving limit.”
Blowing out a breath, I get out of the car and walk inside. We didn’t set estimated times. Just vague promises without definite timeframes.
“I know. I’m sorry. But I haven’t had any incidents at all. In fact, I accidentally dropped and broke a tray of glasses one day and I managed to pick them up and throw them away without mashing them to bits to make them the same size. I also haven’t had any issues with the bowling alley. Hunter handled it without giving me any timeframes, and I have two incredible managers who handle all the time slots, schedules, call-ins, and such. None of that gets relayed to me, just like you told me to do.”
More relief comes out in her breath, and I dread the next confession.
“I saw him. He’s not gone.”
Her breath hitches, and she clears her throat like she doesn’t want me to hear her reaction.
“Mika, I know you felt strongly about this man at one time, but don’t let your mind fool you into believing you can pick up where you left off. Emotions… They’re a trigger in your condition.”
This is why I love Dr. Stein. She doesn’t just ask me how does that make you feel even though she probably should.
“I’m not doing that. I wasn’t feeling like there was unfinished business between us,” I lie, but it’s not like I can be honest. She’d have Aidan remove me immediately. “I’ve killed him, married him, had his baby, and killed him some more over the years. The only thing that felt unfinished—still feels unfinished—is the bowling alley, but I don’t know why.”
She starts with the standard questions then, asking me what part feels unfinished. She goes on to ask me how I handle this feeling in a productive manner. And several other probing questions.
Finally, I get to the part I need her help on, because it’s not the bowling alley dilemma.
“I kissed him,” I whisper.
She goes deadly silent.