Jake absentmindedly watched the school bus pull away. Normally he would see Emily on the bus and then rush back to his station wagon so he could stay in front of the bus. He hated driving behind it and having to wait at every stop it made. Today he couldn’t concentrate. The bus was turning the corner at the end of the street before he even started to the car.
He got in behind the wheel, his thoughts all over the map. He was worried about Wyatt. He was surprised and confused by Benicio’s call on Saturday. On the one hand it would be good to see Benicio, but he just didn’t have the strength to take on more problems. Not right now.
He knew his first patient was at eight-thirty. If he could just get through the morning and wrap up some business then he could be at the hospital all afternoon. He dropped into the driver’s seat and put the car in gear.
Mrs. Tanya Meeling. Quiet, older lady. Nice. Normal. Religious. A little plump and very grandmotherly, which was appropriate given her seven grandchildren.
She perched glumly on the couch. Tears streaked her face and drew some dark mascara down her cheeks. She was one of those older women who carefully did her makeup every morning, but it only gave her wrinkled face a strange, artificial quality. Jake sat patiently. Sometimes he let the silence sit in the room for a full ten minutes, waiting for Mrs. Meeling to compose herself.
They were on minute six.
She took a deep breath. “He’s such a bastard. Why does he need to do that? Doesn’t he know what he’s done to me?”
“I won’t make excuses for his behavior. He has an illness, but that isn’t an excuse,” Jake replied.
Her tears surged again. “But my life is over. It’s over. He’s wrecked everything.”
Jake opened his mouth to answer but before he could speak there was a loud bang from the waiting room. Then there were voices, then urgent whispering. He frowned.
“Just one second,” he said to Mrs. Meeling, and held up a finger. He moved to the door and opened it a crack. He saw magazines on the floor and a man picking them up. He saw that everything had been knocked off the bookshelf. Then he saw a small boy.
Jake cleared his throat, and the man stood. It was Benicio Valori.
“Hey,” Jake said warmly. “Ben.”
“Jake!” Benicio moved toward him, hand out. “I’m really sorry to just show up here. I need to talk to you.”
They shook hands. “I’m in a session right now.”
“We don’t mean to bother you. We’ll wait.”
Jake frowned, looked at the boy, then Benicio. “Okay. Twenty minutes.” He returned to the office, closed the door.
“Sorry about that, Mrs. Meeling. Where were we?”
The rest of Mrs. Meeling’s session slid past quickly. Jake forced himself to pay attention, but it was difficult.
When they finally reached their time Jake stood. “Things seem really out of control now, but you’ll get through this, Mrs. Meeling. You have your children and your grandchildren to think of. They need you. You need to do what’s right for yourself.”
She struggled to stand, wiggling herself to the edge of the couch. “I know,” she grunted, “but it’s just been so long. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“I’ll see you again next week,” Jake said. “Don’t worry about it until then. We’ll work it out together.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Tunnel. I don’t know what I would have done without you. You’re the only person I can talk to — the only person who could possibly understand what I’m going through.”
He nodded, then opened the inner office door, and she stepped out. As most patients do, she reflexively looked away from the other faces in the waiting room. There seemed to be an unwritten rule not to make eye contact with other patients in a psychologist’s waiting room. It would break the illusion that your visit was anonymous. She hurried to the hallway and was gone.
Jake looked at the boy and then to Benicio. “What’s going on? And who is this little fella?”
Benicio shook his head. “I don’t even know how to begin, buddy.”