Page 105 of Dream a Little Dream

So he bolted, taking the stairs two at a time to launch out of the faculty building, and ran. All the way out of campus, retracing his steps to Kenny’s house. The driveway sat empty, no car, and all lights inside were off.

Still, he banged violently on the front door.

No answer.

Aaron fell down on the porch step and waited.

* * * *

If Kenny had any decency, he’d have cancelled this date with Heather.

But she’d called to ask him over and he thought it was probably politer to tell her face to face that he wasn’t ready for a relationship. That he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to proceed with whatever it was she wanted from him. And so he planned to. As soon as she got off the phone to her ex-husband. Just because Aaron had moved on, it didn’t meanhehad to. Even if it stung.

He’d seen Aaron around campus with the third-year student and had tried to hide how he felt about it. Tried to rationaliseit. As much as it pained him, it was the right thing. For Aaron to have a normal relationship so they could go back to their student/teacher one. Then Kenny could give him the therapy he needed. He couldn’t do that with all the other stuff bubbling between them. So he was giving him time to calm down. Do what he needed and form a support network before approaching him again about the cognitive interview. Which, if done right, could help Aaron unlock suppressed memories. Not only would that aid with his own healing process, but he might stumble on something important to the current investigation.

Perhaps even Jessica’s cold case.

But for now, after having visited his mum in her care home directly from work, he sat in Heather’s living room, listening to her having a seething, screaming match with her ex-husband over the phone in the kitchen. There were a few choice words bandied around and Kenny winced, twisting his hands in his lap, edging to the end of the seat.

Then it went quiet. Until a growl. A stamp of a foot.

A moment passed where Kenny assumed Heather was sorting herself out enough to face him. She then came bounding into the lounge, retying her emerald-green wraparound dress with make-up reapplied, swishing her hair back, ready to start their fourth date.

“I am so, so sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. He’s an arsehole, and he knows it now.” She clapped her hands as if closing one door to open another. “Let me get you a drink. What would you like? We have a bottle of sauvignon to go with the pasta, but can start with an apéritif?” She was practically giddy. Kenny guessed she’d had a few already. He hated how he was going to add to her already bad day. “I have gin. Whisky. Pretty much anything, really. Can mix a cocktail?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Gin and tonic?”

“Sounds good.”

Kenny settled back on the sofa and took in the surroundings, assessing Heather through the details she unconsciously revealed in her décor while she disappeared in the kitchen, the soft clinking of glassware and occasional muttering curses layering the rich, savoury aromas of her cooking.

The living room was soothing, soft rose colours, calm, feminine and unassuming, with one statement wall. A playful, vibrant flourish of pink flamingos among greenery hinting at her spirited side beneath her otherwise tranquil choices. Kenny guessed that on her husband moving out, she’d immediately redecorated to her taste. The framed photographs on display were snapshots spanning her and her daughter’s life, interspersed with images of family members, likely her parents and brother’s family. Alongside these were collages of friends, memories speaking to her need for connection and reminders of those closest to her. Framing these people was more than decorative. It showed the deep-rooted importance of her friends and family. The social anchors she felt were worth preserving in sight and mind.

Kenny shifted his inspection to her bookshelf, a scene of casual disarray. Volumes on cooking and baking sat alongside popular novels and self-help guides, scattered with little logic. There was no clear system, suggesting she might be impulsive or scatterbrained, uninterested in rigid organisation, and the multiple, unfinished volumes of non-fiction revealed a temporal trend. Hobbies picked up, perhaps fervently at first, only to be set aside in time.

In these small details, Kenny saw not someone exceptional or broken, but someone trying to reclaim herself in the wake of personal sacrifices made as a mother and wife. Heatherwas, in essence, ordinary, caught in the same struggles of self-rediscovery that many face.

She was…normal.

And that normalcy was exactly whatheneeded.

She returned with two drinks filled high with gin, tonic, ice, lemon and a leaf of mint, handing one down to Kenny before shimmying over to the other end of the sofa. Sitting casually and relaxed, she tucked one leg under herself so she could put her body facing him. She then draped her skirt over her legs, but her lack of shoes, or anything on her feet, demonstrated how comfortable around Kenny she was, or how shewantedto be comfortable around him. Shed her layers for him bit by bit.

Kenny sipped his drink. There was a lot of gin in it. He better go easy or he wouldn’t be able to drive. That was her plan. He knew it was.

“I really am sorry about the phone call,” she started with, it obviously playing on her mind.

“It’s fine. It’s your family. You’ll always have moments like that.”

“Do you come from divorced parents?”

“No. But I know those who do.”

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