It was the middle of the lunch rush when I dragged Penny out of her bistro.
“We need to talk.”
“Have you eaten yet?” She looked for an empty booth. “We could—”
“Not here.”
She dug in her heels. “I can’t just leave Ann and Monica alone.”
“Why not? You own the place.” I walked off and headed for Union Square, a landscaped block with walkways and a gazebo where the city held holiday events such as Fourth of July bands, Christmas carolers, and the upcoming Easter Egg Hunt.
By the time Penny caught up with me, I was already seated on a bleached wooden bench, my head buried in my hands.
“What is it?”
When I didn’t answer, she shook my shoulder. Penny overflows with sympathy for puppies and children and the homeless. With me, she assumes I’m being dramatic, which I usually am, and reserves her compassion until she’s sure I’m in crisis.
“I am going insane. Not slipping into insanity but diving headfirst into fruitcake-land. Yesterday, I thought I’d remembered the jungle, you know, from Rambo. But now I’m craving raw meat and seeing swinging dogs where there aren’t any.” Before she could think up a suitable reply, if one existed, I grabbed her arm. “Promise you won’t let them put me in a home.”
Penny clucked at me. “You’re exaggerating as usual. It’s not as if you’re drooling and eating off my customer’s plates.”
I cried out, because that was an accurate description of what I’d been tempted to do when I leaned my head into her restaurant five minutes ago.
“For goodness’ sake, tell me what’s wrong!”
“Things keep happening,” I said slowly. “Things I don’t understand.”
She put an arm around my shoulder and patted my back. “Your gift.”
I jerked away from her. “Don’t start in about the friggin’ psychic stuff or I’ll scream. This is serious.”
“Before you go all drama on me, tell me what happened.”
I started with the Peters and ran all the way through my last appointment. She stifled a giggle when I mentioned the stinky cheese but otherwise gave me her solemn attention.
A thought occurred to me. I grabbed Penny’s hand and placed it on my forehead. “Do I have a temp? People with fevers hallucinate, don’t they?”
She pulled her hand away. “You feel fine.”
That led me to darker options. “Oh, jeez. What if it’s an aneurysm, ready to pop?”
Penny rolled her eyes. “You don’t have an aneurysm.”
“Then why am I having weird cravings and seeing flashes of tennis shoes that aren’t there? Why do I have a constant buzzing in my head?”
When I suggested a brain tumor, she stuck her fingers in her ears.
I shot off the bench and started walking. Penny matched my stride, and we circled the perimeter of Union Square.
“Do you hear anything now?” Penny asked.
I stopped walking and listened. “It’s down to a whisper, but it comes and goes.” I had a sudden thought. “Wait a minute. Isn’t there something called tinnitus?”
“That’s a ringing in your ears,” Penny explained. “And it doesn’t come with images and visions and stuff.” She pulled a face. “I don’t think.”
As we approached the gazebo, a woman held fast to a Harlequin Great Dane as it leaned in and stared down a toy poodle pulling just as hard against the bondage of its own leash.
Penny giggled. “Little missy better watch out or the big guy will have her for lunch.”
I clutched my head. “Aw, jeez. You’ve got the sexes reversed and they’re not thinking about food.”
Penny clapped her hands over her mouth. “You never let me watch you work. This is so cool.”
“No. It’s not cool. It’s all wrong.”
Penny pointed at a husky across the park. “Tell me what he’s thinking.” She jumped up and down and waved her hands. “Oh! Oh! Wouldn’t it be so cool if you found a psychic dog who could predict the lottery? Then the two of you could combine forces and—”
“Look at me,” I interrupted. “I’m not smiling.”
Something in my face impressed upon her my level of stress, because she wiped off her own smile and said, “Maybe Robert can help you.”
I stopped walking. “Our date. I’m canceling. I’m not fit to meet anyone right now.”
“But Robert is some kind of doctor.”
“What kind?”
“I’m not sure, but right now I don’t think you should be choosy. No offense, Frankie, but you’re a mess.” She took me by the arm and led me back to my car. “Have you been sleeping alright? Maybe you need a prescription or something.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Drugs. That sounds good. Some kind of blocking agent, like what they use for anxiety.”
She gave me a gentle push toward my car. “Go home. Take a hot shower. Maybe all you need is that steak you’ve been craving.” She grinned. “And it might be fun.”
I wasn’t counting on it.