www.neminat.com Third Edition
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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Set between the events of Chapters 5 and 6 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 B1 Part 4 Part 5 B2 Part 6 - Story Index
© - 2007 Vilia Kinell, all rights reserved. Disclaimer: None needed – These people are mine, I made them up. Please let me know if you wish to borrow them so that I don’t think they’ve been kidnapped and come after you with a shovel. Comments and/or feedback: vilia@stockholm.com
Initially, Claire had felt a small sense of gratitude towards the idea of a full night’s sleep, undisturbed by a certain blonde’s relentless tossing and rolling. Her lover’s unconscious nocturnal activities were not bothering her per se, and waking up next to her certainly blew all notions of light kicks away, but Claire could always feel a presence of something buzzing in the back of her mind whenever Jenna had been more active than usual. Now, five days since Jenna had left for London, Claire was aching at the loss. With her feet neatly tucked beneath her as she sat sipping on her cup of morning-coffee, she unfolded the newspaper that had landed on the doorstep with such a thud it had awoken her. The early hour was quiet and still, the usual chitchat over a quick breakfast painfully absent to the sole inhabitant of the house. Her terrycloth robe hung loosely over warm flannel pajamas as she shifted on the chair. She enjoyed a bite of warm toast and swallowed it down as a longing gaze traveled out the window to the snow-covered treetops. Falling flakes of ice crystals somewhat hindered her view but just beyond the far end of the garden she spotted a group of children huddled together behind what had to have been the saddest excuse for a snowman she had ever seen. Even I build them better than that, she recalled and decided that her and Quentin’s plans for the evening were now set in stone. The memory of last weeks adventure in the park had a delightful effect on her mood. Little had she known that Jenna was such a bad sport when it came to losing. Even more shocking had been her own reaction to seeing the poor woman pout, cheeks rosy and snow in her tousled hair. The sight had been adorable, if not for the glaring green eyes that promised vengeance. A soft snowball missed her by further distance than necessary in an apologetic gesture from Claire’s part. But Little Jennie Mac had not been quick to dismiss her revved up frustration and had launched herself off the ground with surprising speed, resulting in Claire being tackled off her feet and helplessly pinned underneath her. A hint of sadistic pleasure had shone on the blonde’s weathered features and it was at that moment that Claire realized – she was in trouble. With a wicked grin showing off perfect teeth, Jenna had settled into a crouching position over her victim. In a mix of her adrenaline rush and Claire’s obvious retreat in knowing what she had coming, Jenna had snagged Claire’s wrists and held them down firmly on her belly with one hand, the other reaching to the side of her head, where dark hair contrasted the white surroundings. A handful of snow appeared in Claire’s line of vision. The last thing she had seen before shutting her eyes and feeling the cold pressed against her entire face was Jenna, obscenely pleased with herself, smiling by design. The children had left during Claire’s reliving of the passed weekend. A quick scan of the clock hanging on the kitchen wall told her she still had plenty of time before she needed to leave for work. * * * At nine a.m. sharp Claire hung her coat on the coat rack behind the door in her office. The blinds were still drawn, leaving the room dimly lit and in relative peace. She knew that peace would end the moment the bustling street outside came into view so she left the blinds as they were, grateful to her secretary for not opening them on her own accord. Without sitting down, she looked through today’s appointments despite having been told of her schedule just minutes ago. There were a couple of bedside sessions during the morning and some regular ones in the afternoon, scattered throughout the day’s normal hours of walking through the halls, spending time where she was needed. Coming to work at Greenland Medical, a private hospital which focused its attention to EIPC - Emergency, Intensive and Psychological Care – had been ideal for Claire up until recently. It had offered her a vast range of patients and endless topical discussions with her colleagues who all specialized in different areas. Claire herself had excelled in dealing with the families of people who came into the ER or ICU, and that was where she had stayed. She very much enjoyed being the bringer of good news and that was often her job. To ease the worry as a loved one was pulling out of the woods, as it were. Of course there were less desirable needs for her services on occasion but thankfully not as often as she had thought it would be. She found the position to be very much beneath her level of competence but really could not see a downside it taking a job she liked over one she would find stressful. She was still young and considered fresh in the field by her more senior peers but even they had stood back in what resembled shock when she had turned down first a partnership in a team of leading psychologists’ practice and later the offer of a practice of her own. No, being an on-staff counselor was a comfortable enough pastime while she figured out what to do with that fancy diploma hanging on her wall. She had decided three years ago when she had come to work here, just after Bill’s death, that this was where she belonged for the time being. Once again flipping through her book of appointments she sighed and wondered if maybe it was time for a change. * * * Not seeing the assistant around, Claire went straight for Dr. Eileen Morris’ office and tapped lightly on the door. A brief ‘come’ welcomed her and she poked her head in. “Hey, Leen. Got a minute?” The woman looked up from behind a large paper, her thick-brimmed glasses propped securely on the tip of her nose, with a skeptical scowl. “Depends. Business or pleasure?” She eyed her visitor from top to bottom. “Personal.” Eileen let the silence settle for a moment. “I see.” Folding the paper before removing her eyewear and placing both on the desk in front of her, she continued with a hand motioning Claire to come in and sit. “Elaborate.” “I err… I think I might need you in a professional capacity,” Claire conceded, knowing all too well what delaying the reason for her visit would bring. Dr. Morris was brief and to the point and preferred whomever was on the other end of the conversation to pay her the same treatment. Claire’s words caused a drilling stare with a tilting head and wrinkled forehead from the psychologist but she offered no verbal reply. “I think… I might want to quit…” she let the words trail off as she wasn’t aware of much else herself, hoping that her older and definitely more experienced colleague would drag the right words out eventually. “How so?” Dr. Morris demanded, unfazed. Claire sought her mind for what to begin with. “I just came from a session… if you can call it that… I had to inform a family that their son had passed,” she avoided using the word ‘died’. “And I know that’s part of the job and I do it all the time and shouldn’t let it get to me…” Dr. Morris nodded. “And I shouldn’t be using ‘and’ so much either…” she sighed in defeat. “You have been through a lot lately.” Dr. Morris stated, shifting in her chair and leaning her head in her hand. Claire shrugged, not meeting the woman’s gaze. “Not more than I can handle.” Again, Dr. Morris let her lack of verbal response do the work for her. “It’s been a lot, sure. But I can deal with it. And I have been dealing with it. I just don’t think this is what I really want anymore.” “Has it ever been?” The question threw the counselor and she met Eileen’s pondering look. “Of course it has.” Claire hesitated as she thought the request over. She knew there was no way out of the situation now that she had both the professional and personal side of her friend’s interest and that had indeed been her intention with this meeting. It probably wouldn’t be what she wanted to hear, but she needed a fresh take on the situation. “Um… I enjoy my work, it’s not that…” she started. ”I’m even pleased with what I was able to do for that family just now,” she pointed her thumb over her shoulder towards the door. “It’s just… Can’t you tell me what it is you want me to say here?” she smiled weakly before leaning forward and resting her head in both her hands. Eileen grinned back. “I can’t make it easier on you just because I know you, hon.” Eileen got up and sat in the chair next to her friend. She put a hand on her arm which caused Claire to look up. “As your friend I’d tell you what I would do. As your colleague I’d tell you what I think you should do. But as your psychologist, if you want me to be that, I’d have to ask you to tell me that yourself.” Her words were slow and methodical, kind but matter-of-factly, and punctuated with a warm smile. “How about all of the above?” “Nice try, missy. Just spill it!” Claire leaned back in the chair and studied the ceiling as she spoke. “I don’t think I want to do what my education taught me to do,” she admitted finally, looking back at Eileen. “Well, isn’t that interesting?” Dr. Morris knew this was the sometimes simple root of a less simple problem. “What do you want to do?” “What? You’re not going to scold me for ditching my career?” Claire laughed at how easily the elder shrink seemingly let her turn her back on a very promising occupation. Eileen decided to cut to the chase. “What career? You stuck yourself here of all places instead of going on to be one of the nation’s leading psychologists. You ditched your career a long time ago and you’re only just now realizing that it was never the right thing for you to do in the first place. Why do you think you turned down those nice offers, hmm?” Claire could not think of a retort fast enough. “If you had gone onto being a partner at Stoke, Lyle & Banister, if you had opened your own practice…” Eileen paused. “If Bill hadn’t died… Where would you have been?” “Um…” “Err, that’s a good question.” Eileen did not chuckle. Nor did she smile. She was dead serious and Claire knew she wanted an answer. “Well, I probably would have been some kind of Dr. Phil... Preaching my knowledge to anyone who’d listen,” she smirked, buying time. What would she have been doing if Bill was still alive? “Nothing wrong with your confidence, I see.” Eileen chided jokingly. That much was true. Claire knew, and always had known, that she was very good at what she did. And she probably would have made it known to the world one way or another, if she had given herself that chance. Why hadn’t she? “But that’s just professionally,” Eileen continued. “What about Bill?” “What about Bill?” Claire did not have an answer at the top of her head. “Say he was, right at this minute,” Eileen checked her wristwatch for the time, “in his car and on the way home. To you, assuming you’d left the office for the day. What then?” Claire thought for a bit, considering what day it was. “I guess I’d be at home waiting…” Eileen nodded for her to go on. “I’m picking up Tin in a few hours, and I guess that’s what we’d be doing too…” her voice trailed off. Quentin had only been at Redlow Academy for a few months when his father had passed away and Bill had never had the pleasure of taking him home for the holidays. “I’m sure we’d do that together.” “Why do you think you chose today of all days to talk to me about this?” Rarely did a conversation amuse Claire more than when it was between two people who already knew all the questions and answers that were going to be said. “I know this one!” she triumphed. “It’s because it’s Christmas and I’m stressed over not having the house ready, not really wanting to host that silly party, not knowing how my parents will react to Jenna, what will happen and so on and so forth! Naturally,” she pointed a long, straight finger at nothing in particular to emphasize her point, “I’m having some sort of a mini-breakdown and a sudden need to change everything in pursuit of also changing my doubts into hopes!” she smiled, proud of her own conclusion as Eileen nodded at the possibility. “Why is it only a ‘mini-breakdown’?” the psychologist asked. “Because I’m still calm and I don’t feel the slightest bit of panic from what I’ve just said,” she declared, just a little taken aback at how easy it had come out. “Why is it a breakdown at all?” Eileen prodded. “I don’t know. Just feels like it.” “What will you do?” “I…” she started, reminded of the time, “am going to get my kid, go home, pick Jen up at the airport tomorrow and then I'm gonna enjoy Christmas even if it smacks me upside the head and I will get back to you with an answer to that next year!” She stood up, straightened her clothes and took a deep breath. “But I’m counting on you being at that party in the meantime.” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Eileen padded her on her upper arm as she too stood up. “Just one more thing before you leave…” she said as Claire turned towards the door. “In all this, you have barely mentioned Jenna. How are things going?” Claire stood smiling, a warm feeling spreading within her. “It’s going good,” she affirmed. “Really good. I’m looking forward to you meeting her. You’ll like her.” * * * Her phone rang just as she closed the door to Eileen’s office. The assistant was now back at her desk and was startled by the sudden appearance of Claire. She picked up on the second ring with a cheery “Hello,” granting a surprised reaction from the caller. “You sound happy,” the voice said. “How can I not be when you’re calling me out of the blue?” she headed down the hall for her own office. “What are you still doing up? Isn’t it late there?” “What is it? I thought you wanted an early night so you’d be fresh for the flight?” “Of course I am, and I’ve been on my way back to the hotel for…” she mumbled something Claire couldn’t make out over the not too clear line. “What was that?” she said as she rounded a corner and moments later entered her office, heading straight for her coat. Jenna reluctantly repeated what she had said and Claire couldn’t help but grin. “What was the last station you passed?” Jenna informed her, causing a quiet laughter to bubble up in Claire. "Sweetie, get off the train." She put her coat on, switching the phone from one ear to the other, while Jenna talked. "Go to Notting Hill Gate and get off. You're on the circle line." The line when very silent for very long. All Claire could hear was muffled voices and the familiar sounds of the underground plunging through the tunnels beneath England’s capital. When Jenna finally spoke again, it was with a question to which she gave the reply; “Right, it just goes round and round..." She fought desperately not to laugh out loud as Jenna grumbled on the other end, reminding Claire of the time when she too had made a very similar, long journey. To this day, Claire found yellow an annoying color... “Call me when you get to the hotel. I love you.”
THE END Comments and/or feedback welcome at vilia@stockholm.com
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