Page 28 of Deja Who
TWELVE
The ex-mayor of Boston greeted her with, “You know that skinny guy who’s been following you for two weeks? He’s right behind you.”
“Curses. You have foiled me.” Archer held out a hand. “I’m Archer Drake, Your Honor. Nice to meet you.”
Cat cut her glance sideways. “Someone’s been sneaking you my mail.” She and Archer were roughly the same height, and she glared into his eyes as her hand swallowed his in a handshake that could decimate metacarpals. “What’s your deal?”
“Her mom hired me to keep an eye on her to figure out the best time to approach her for her mother-daughter hooker sitcom idea.”
“That,” Cat said, dropping Archer’s hand, “is unfortunate.”
“Leah fired me and stabbed me, though, so I’m just here as her...” Friend? Former stalker? Current stalker? Hopeful would-be snuggle bunny? Hey: bunnies like carrots!WHY THEHELL CAN I NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT CARROTS?“I’m just here,” he finished. Leah caught him peeking at his white fingers. Cat had a grip like a gorilla, a statuesque showgirl-sized gorilla with keen political instincts and an instinctive distrust of Republicans. He shook his fingers and seemed relieved circulation had resumed.
It was late afternoon, and people were streaming out of office buildings on their way home. The little park was deserted save for the three of them, giving them the illusion of peace and privacy, and Leah felt oddly tranquil.
“I won’t deny being relieved,” she said as she watched commuters scurrying home. “I knew the permanent break was coming and... well. She took it all, and I wouldn’t have minded so much if she had ever admitted she had been wrong. Wrong to put me to work, wrong to keep my money, wrong to want more out of me, always moremoremore. But she won’t ever. So I can never get past it.” Ironic, given her profession. How many patients had she told forgiveness wasn’t for the person who had wronged them, it was forthem? To move on. Advice she could not, would not, take.
“Whoa.” From the mayor. “That whole thing kinda came out of nowhere. But good for you for getting it off your chest.”
“Sorry, forgot you weren’t necessarily up on context. My mother and I are done now, and I should feel worse, right?”
“Not our job, tellin’ you how to feel.”
“My mom keeps slipping me law school applications because of this thing with my father I’m not going into because we’re doing your thing now,” said Archer. “Nightmare! She’s practically wallpapered my bedroom with them. So I know all about annoying parents. We’re partners in pain, Leah.”
He winked at her and she snorted. Yes indeed, the man shecouldn’t see who walked around in a cloud of fun understood exactly how she felt. She sat on one of the benches and looked at her friend and her former stalker and gave in to the rare impulse to cough up.
I am all alone now; my mother has never looked out for me and will never look out for me and the only thing that’s changed is that I finally made it official. But closing a door doesn’t mean I can’t open a window. Or the door to the storm cellar. Or something like that. What will it hurt to open up, just once? After all the patients who found the courage to open up to someone they knew wasn’t exactly loaded with empathy?
“I think. I want. To tell you guys something.” Hmm. Starting was difficult. “About me. About why I’m the way I am.”
“It’s not all the drugs you did in college?” Cat asked.
“No! Well, mostly no. When you’re an Insighter, one of the things they have you do is research your own past lives. Write up clinic notes on yourself—it’s practice for the patients you’ll hopefully be able to help one day. So. Once upon a time,” she began.
“Excellent,” Cat said, making herself comfortable on the opposite bench. “Better with pudding, though.”
“Itwouldbe better with pudding. Or... you know what, Your Honor? I wish we had marshmallows to roast. And a fire. And chocolate. Oh, well, continue.” Archer plopped on the ground at her feet, shook the hair out of his eyes, and peered up at her with those oddly lovely mismatched eyes. “It’s gonna be a good story, right?”
“Oh, no. The heroine is either ineffectual and passive, or dies. A lot.
“Once upon a time...”
