After walking past the couple who spoke to him, he saw their words jiggling in front of him. He turned around to see if they were giving him the look, but they appeared to be deep in conversation and not bothering with him at all. Good.
He was still shaken by his meeting with Paty earlier. He was trying to not think about her, but telling himself not to think about something meant it would definitely stick in his mind. She was very kind to him, and when she asked him if there was anything in his life that made it harder for him, he almost told her. The words were on the tip of his tongue. He could even taste them. They were like blueberries with whipped cream. Not orange. And certainly not red. But then they began to taste bitter. He knew that was a sign he should be quiet. When he left her office, words attacked him. He tried waving them away, but then he realized people could see him. He turned around and saw Paty standing in the hallway. Was she watching him? She didn’t look his way, so he assumed she hadn’t noticed what he’d done.
He was almost afraid to visit her again. What if he saw the color red? What would happen? He didn’t want to hurt her, but her cross made him nervous. Something inside him didn’t like it. Not even a little bit. He hadn’t heard the voices for a while. It seemed as if his medication kept them away, but in Paty’s office he thought someone whispered to him. He couldn’t understand what was said, but that was okay. He didn’t want to let the voices back in his life. Brian wanted to be in control, and when the voices talked to him, he felt as if his will melted away and he became one with them. A therapist at the hospital had told him he heard the voices because of the schizophrenia they said he had. He hated that therapist for trying to make him feel crazy. If he knew how to find him, he would probably have to kill him.
He looked down at his clothes. He’d had to wear this same uniform yesterday, but he couldn’t wear it anymore. Even though it was cold outside, the building was warm, and he worked up a sweat at night. The word sweat floated past him. He’d go to the laundromat in the morning. At least he had his car. When he’d gotten home from talking to Paty, he’d found a man working on it. Brian felt himself start to get angry. Was this guy going to try to get money from him? Was this a plot designed to rob him?
“Charlie asked me to take a look at your engine,” he’d said as Brian approached. “It was just your battery. I had an extra one and put it in for you. It should run for quite a while.”
He had an extra battery? No one has an extra battery. How dumb does he think I am? “How much do I owe you?” Brian had asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The air around the man pulsated orange. Brian had prepared himself for red.
“Nothing,” the man had said. “Like I said, it was an extra one. I bought some on sale and can’t remember what I paid for them. Besides, Charlie said you’re friends. I can’t charge a friend of Charlie’s.”
His smile had seemed sincere, but Brian wasn’t buying it. He’d nodded at the man and forced himself to say, “Thanks,” even though he didn’t actually mean it. He was convinced that somehow this would backfire. The guy would ask for something, and then Brian would see red. But he was willing to be patient and wait until that happened. Then he would decide what kind of justice to deliver.
He hated the way he smelled right now. Reminded him of rotten cherries, but he was trying to ignore it. Besides the aroma of sweat, cigarette smoke had permeated his shirt. He couldn’t afford cigarettes anymore, but sometimes he found butts outside where some people stood when they smoked. They would either throw them on the ground or stick them into the receptacle made for cigarettes. Once in a while, he found one that had barely been smoked. He would pick all of them up and save them for his break. He usually tried to keep at least one for the drive home. He wasn’t allowed to smoke in his room. Not even outside the house. The landlady wouldn’t allow it.
He got his cleaning cart from the closet at the end of the hall and pushed it toward the elevator. He always started on the second floor and worked his way down to the first. Most of the people on the top floor left earlier for some reason. Probably because the offices were smaller and the businesses less successful. He didn’t care. He just liked being alone. The worst part of the job was the way the different cleaners smelled. The aromas could suddenly become odd shapes, like dark shadows that followed him, sometimes nipping at his heels like rabid dogs. He couldn’t be sure he was even smelling the correct scents. His world was often beyond confusing. Over the years, he’d learned how to manage things . . . to a point. But from time to time his existence spiraled out of control. That was when he had to be very careful. Keep his head down and try to hold on. The funny thing was, when he became angry, it was as if everything around him slowed down, and he was more in control than usual. In those moments, the air would turn red. Then it would stay that way until his rage was spent. The final outcome made him feel powerful.
The words of one of the doctors from the hospital floated into his mind. Orange and green and glowing. “Until you can control your anger, no one can help you with your disability,” he’d said. “The resentment you feel is out of control and exacerbates the problems in your brain.”
Until Paty Gomez, Dr. Ingalls was the only doctor he’d ever met who treated him like a human being. Yet he couldn’t forgive him for saying there was something wrong with him. He wondered sometimes if he should have punished him for that, but Brian let him go because of his previous kindness.
To be honest, there were times he actually missed the voices. They’d encouraged him to deliver justice when it was called for. But when another kid at the hospital told him that only crazy people heard voices, he’d decided to stay on his meds, reducing the voices to whispers he could ignore. Although he hated drugs, without them, he wouldn’t be able to work.
He cleaned the first three offices quickly. He had a system. He wanted to say bad words in each office and spit on the desks, but some of the rooms had cameras. He wasn’t certain where they all were, so he just did what he’d been trained to do and kept his urges in check.
Then he unlocked the door to the fourth office, Watson Investigations. What a stupid name. Now, Sherlock Holmes Investigations would be cool. These people must be losers. He started cleaning, but the word Investigations kept swirling around him, orange and pulsating. Just what were they investigating? Were they watching him? Were they a threat? He would have to keep a close eye on these people.
RIVER’S NERVES WERE RAW. Her mother was quiet. Too quiet. It was a sign that something was wrong, but it was almost impossible for River to figure out what had caused it. Was she just in one of her moods, or was she struggling with her memory? Either way, it could signal an emotional meltdown.
There were moments when she wanted to yell at her mother for the way she’d treated her children after their father left, but she couldn’t do that. Especially now. Besides, she understood why her mother had shut down. Because of her training she even understood why she’d taken it out on her kids. Transference. Rose couldn’t blame her husband for the pain he’d caused, so she transferred it to her children. It wasn’t fair, but for River to take it personally was silly and unprofessional. She needed to view her mother with a clinical eye. As if Rose was an unknown subject she was trying to understand. River sighed as she carried the glasses out to the table.
“You okay?” Hannah asked.
River was so lost in thought that she startled at Hannah’s voice. “I’m fine,” she said. She glanced toward the kitchen where her mother was standing over a pot on the stove, staring at her stew as it simmered. She seemed distracted. Strange. Under normal circumstances, her mother’s stew was awesome. Hopefully, this would be one of her more lucid times. With rolls and fruit cups, it promised to be a great supper. “What’s going on with Mom?” she asked Hannah.
Hannah walked up next to her. “I’m not sure,” she said quietly, “but your brother called earlier. She was like this when she got off the phone.”
“Dan called?” There wasn’t anything wrong with Dan phoning their mother, but for the most part, he avoided talking to her. Odd. “I’m going to my bedroom for a moment,” she said. “I want to know what they talked about. Maybe a little information will help us stop trouble before it happens.”
Hannah nodded. “You go ahead. I’ll finish setting the table. And I’ll keep an eye on her.”
River walked over and gave her a hug. “I don’t know what we’d do without you. Thanks for being here.”
“I love you and your mom. I’ve got your back, you know.”
River nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. Then she headed to her bedroom to call Dan. She felt a little silly checking up on her mother. She was a grown woman. But staying ahead of Rose could stop something from happening that might embarrass her in front of Tony. And although it shouldn’t matter, it did.