The two sit at the table, slowly eating their breakfast on opposite sides. Their eyes periodically dart above the brim of their respective books, looking to see if the other is looking, hoping they aren’t the only one who can’t seem to concentrate on the words in front of them.
“What are you reading?” Banks finally spits out, praying he sounds as casual as he’s trying to.
“Oh you know, just another one of my crappy books,” she says, lowering the book with a smile.
“Is it…good?”
The question feels weird and forced coming out of Banks’s mouth. She knows what he thinks of her books, and he knows she enjoys them, so what’s the point in asking?
She gives a small laugh.
“It’s a lot like this omelet,” she says, “cheesy.”
The corners of Banks’s lips give a twitch and Amber can see the man thought her joke was funny, even if he’s incapable of smiling.
“What are you reading?”
“The Call of the Wild,” he says. “All your talk of adventure novels, it got me craving a little myself.”
“One of my favorites.”
“Really?”
“I love dogs. And the story, it’s truly wonderful.”
“Would you like to read it?” he says, closing the book and holding it out. “We could…trade.”
Banks’s eyes stare across the table, but not at hers. They are looking just south, locked on the large grin spreading across Amber’s face.
“You want to read my book? Really?”
“Sure…uh…what’s it about?”
She smiles again, this is too much, the man is actually showing an interest in someone other than himself.
“A serial killer.”
“Okay, see, that’s not bad. I could read that.”
“A serial killer who falls in love with the FBI agent chasing her.”
“Okay…still, I think I could read that.”
“She continues to kill more and more, leaving clues to lead the FBI agent closer and closer so that they can finally meet.”
“Uh…okay…”
“And her last kill will be the FBI agent’s current girlfriend, so there will be nothing keeping them from being together, falling in love, and living happily ever after—”
“—Okay enough, I can’t read that crap.”
Amber laughs out loud, something she finds she doesn’t do all that often.
“You didn’t even hear the names of the characters.”
“Please, I beg you.”
Amber can’t help but like the sound of that.
“Her name is Luna Amorous, and he is Special Agent Matt Stunning.”
“Luna, as in short for lunatic? And her last name is amorous. So her name translates directly to crazy in love, and his name is literally stunning? You don’t find this insulting to your intelligence? They don’t think you’re smart enough to figure out she’s crazy and he’s good looking.”
Amber is enjoying this more than she ever thought she would. He’s making fun of her book. He’s saying that it’s stupid and insulting, but she doesn’t care. She’s enjoying how much it bugs him. It’s just a silly book and yet it’s getting him all riled up, all flustered and angry. It’s cute, is what it is.
“It also doesn’t make sense. If she keeps killing people, he wouldn’t be the only person looking for her. There would be police, detectives, teams, whole departments in the FBI searching for this person. She would be public enemy number one. Nearly everyone that makes America’s ten most wanted fugitives, have only ever killed one person, and they have entire government sectors looking for them. I just think that if—”
He stops in the middle of his rant, finally noticing the look in her eyes. Amber’s smile is gone. She isn’t mad or upset, she just isn’t smiling anymore. Her eyes have darkened, and look quizzically at Banks. Studying him.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I’m sorry. As nice as this is, as much fun as I was having, I just…I need to know something.”
The gravity in her voice is clear. Banks knows exactly what it is she needs to know.
“I need to know…” she trails, unsure how to ask, or even what to ask.
“Why you’re here,” Banks responds, helping her find the words.
“Precisely. I need to know if I’m safe. I need to know who you are and why the courts have prescribed you drugs and weekly medical attention. I’m sorry if it’s awkward and I don’t mean to pry—”
“—Yes you do,” Banks interrupts. “And rightly so. Your job is to monitor my medications and make sure they are working properly, neither of which you’ve been allowed to do. Mostly because I’m not taking the drugs.”
The comment catches Amber off guard. She had just assumed he didn’t want to discuss his medications with a stranger, but she had always assumed he was taking them. If they’re required and he isn’t taking them, would that make him dangerous? Did he hurt himself that day nearly two weeks ago? Did he attack someone else? She doesn’t know, she can’t know, because she doesn’t even know why the court ordered the medication, or what the medication is for.
“I’m sorry, but do you mind elaborating, maybe from the beginning?”
“I can’t tell you everything, not just because I don’t want to, but legally, I can’t. But you do deserve more, you deserve to know. So here’s what I can tell you. A few months ago I was arrested.”
“For?”
“For something I can’t tell you, but I can tell you it was the wrong charge. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and I was caught.”
“So you didn’t do it? Whatever it was that you can’t tell me.”
Banks considers the question a moment.
“I was not doing what they thought I was doing. I know this might not make sense, but I’m telling you what I can. I hired a good lawyer and he kept me out of jail with a fine, probation, and the stipulation of meds and a weekly meeting.”
“Why not stop at the fine and probation? Why the medical aspect?”
“The plea that kept me out of jail was that I have multiple neurological disorders that were previously undiagnosed. The argument was that with medication and proper medical attention, something like this incident would never happen again.”
“Multiple?”
Amber can see how uncomfortable Banks is. It’s unlike him. He normally walks around with the confidence and air of a man who knows exactly who he is and loves every bit of it. Now though, the way he plays with the book in his hand, the way he sits in the chair, it all gives an air of someone unsure, someone uncomfortable in their own body.
“Banks, I can’t help you, if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Help me? No, you’ll be just like the rest of them. I know your kind.”
“Nurses?”
“Medical professionals, of any kind. You’re all the same. Pills, pills, pills. Drugs, that’ll solve the problem. If it doesn’t, then just take more.”
“That’s not fair, you haven’t even asked my opinion on the medication. Not that I could have one, since you haven’t even told me what you were diagnosed with or prescribed.”
“Fine, you want to know? You want to hear what they say I have? I’m narcissistic, which, okay fine, I’ll accept that one. Bipolar, which come on, everyone gets mad sometimes. If anything, I’m more controlled than your average man. And finally, if that weren’t enough, they say I have Asperger’s.”
Amber pauses, taking in all the information. She doesn’t want to rush to words, but she knows what she thinks, she just doesn’t know what he thinks.
“You’re clearly smart and I’m sure you’ve looked into these disorders. So, do you think the diagnosis is correct?”
The question catches Banks off guard. He had expected Amber to agree, to say that fits, that explains it, that’s why you’re different. He had expected her to immediately yell at him for not taking his meds, for not taking his diagnosis seriously. He had expected her to give her opinion and throw all her knowledge of the subject at him, but instead, she had asked his opinion. She had acknowledged his intelligence and shown him the respect of talking with him about it, rather than talking at him about it.
“What difference does it make what I think? They just want to medicate me until my brain fogs, until I can’t move, can’t think, until I’m no longer me.”
“And who are you?”
“I’m just a guy doing his best, trying to make it through.”
“Trying to deal with your past and look out for your future?” she asks, and he nods.
“Trying to deal with a confusing world that doesn’t seem to make as much sense to you, as it seems to for others.” He nods again, agreeing with her. “Trying to find your place among others who see you as different. Trying to understand why your life doesn’t wrap up nicely with a bow, like it always seems to in the stories you immerse yourself in.”
His eyes now raise, searching out and finding Amber’s. Their gaze holds. The nice relaxing morning they once had is gone. The awkward breakfast, the friendly chit-chat, the smiles and banter, it’s all gone. Now, in its place, is something different, something new. Both unsure, neither knowing what to do, what to say next. Banks put himself out there. He told Amber about his diagnosis and how he felt about it. But surprisingly, she hadn’t added to his worries, she hadn’t added to his frustration, she had bared her soul. She had connected with him in a way, he not only hadn’t expected, but hadn’t thought possible.
“It’s a strange feeling, finding out you have problems with your brain, that it’s broken, as one doctor told me.”
“Challenges, that’s all, not problems. You’re not broken, and you don’t need fixing. You just need understanding. You’ve been dealing with this blind your whole life. This is a blessing. Now you know, now you can work towards living a happier, easier life.”
“Drugged out of my mind?”
“No. I’ve spent two weeks with you. Sitting at your bedside, walking with you along the beach, getting to know you. In my opinion, you don’t need any meds, you don’t need drugs pumping through your system, you simply need to look inward, understand yourself, understand when your feelings and mood are changing and why.”
“So trade the doctor for a shrink?”
“Maybe, but for now, you’ve got me. And I’m going to sign your court order, not because of the silly contract you made me sign, but because I think it’s the right thing to do.”
Banks stares, studying her for a moment, trying to spot the angle, trying to see what she’s getting at. Why would she do that? Why does she even care? He waits for her to break. Most people break under his gaze pretty quickly. He’s never understood why, but he’s used it to his advantage when he needs to. When he doesn’t need to, he finds himself avoiding people’s gaze, refusing to make eye contact for fear of them cowering away. But Amber is different. She doesn’t break eye contact, and she doesn’t cower. She simply gazes back at him, a soft smile upon her lips.
She stands, saying nothing as she slowly walks around the large table. With a quizzical eye, she holds her book out, standing just in front of Banks. He looks down at it, then back up at her, and realizes. Quickly he takes her book and extends his own. Amber smiles and takes the book, before turning on her heels and returning to her plate on the other side of the table. The feeling in the air has changed now once again. There’s no more need to talk, no need to feel awkward, no need to do anything but enjoy the rest of their breakfast, a new book, and the company they’re in.