Strangers
He told himself he didn’t want to see her again, and he didn’t need an answer. The companionship of a stranger hadn’t been important. That the moments of feeling like he’d made someone’s day better hadn’t been poisoned by her acting like she didn’t know him in front of a colleague.
The anger, frustration and confusion in his mind had created some terrible nightmares, and he couldn’t resist the security of his bench. It was Sunday though; would she be there? He didn’t care, it didn’t affect him, she was a stranger after all. At least that’s what he told himself.
Until he saw her waiting for him.
She wasn’t sketching and for once no art supplies littered the bench beside her. Her hair was wild again, tight coils reaching in every direction and she was rubbing her hands together. Her worry turned to relief as she caught sight of him.
“James.”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” he tried to be cold, emotionless, but the anger seeped into his voice the tight coil of his fists and his set jaw. He wanted to keep walking, to walk away and never return. But the repentant look in her eyes stopped him.
“No, I suppose you don’t.”
He hated the understanding look on her face. Hated being read like this. Exposed, vulnerable.
“You’re a shrink.”
“Not the term I’d prefer, but yeah.” Elle shrugged, “look, I wanted to explain the whole… okay, so it’s a policy not to acknowledge or interact with clients outside of therapy-”
“I’m not you’re client.” Bucky interrupted.
“No, no you’re not. But you were outside the clinic and I was at work, so I chose not to address you, I didn’t want to complicate things for you or to connect your private life with a public ‘shrink’ without your permission.” Elle grimaced over the word, as though it tasted bad on her tongue.
“Are you a part of my private life then?” The hard note was still there, though the anger had mostly bled away.
“That is up to you, James. It’s been nice to think of you as a friend, but I won’t jeopardize your health for it. So, if I see you in a clinical setting, I won’t act like I know you, unless you start the conversation. That’s all I came to say. Well, that and I’m proud of you for being willing to try, Greg’s a great guy, you can trust him.” She smiled gently, and rose from the bench.
He slumped onto the bench, watching her walk away his mind spinning.
The old notebook in his hands, its edges worn, fell open to the paperclipped business card, and the notes he’d taken from Sam.
New Leaf Therapy- good reputation, specialize in trauma therapy.
Greg Adams- doctorate in clinical psychology from SBU, in practice for 17 years.
-Family man, no criminal record.
Elle? E. Landry- no photos, certification: Masters degree online from U-of-Manitoba, at the clinic 3 years, no employment record before.
-regular criminal background checks, squeaky clean, no socials.
Bucky pulled the pen from the cover, the nib hovering over the page.
Elle is E. Landry