CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Friday, December 14
Your voice is surprisingly agitated when you telephone following your encounter with the second woman: “How could you have hung up on me? That guy was bad news!”
Therapists are trained to set aside their own turbulent emotions and focus on their clients. This can be quite challenging, especially when unspoken questions vie with yours, Jessica: What is Thomas doing tonight? Is he alone?
But you must be appeased swiftly.
There could be any number of reasons why these two women called my husband—therapy, for example. In any case, they have been eliminated as potential paramours; Reyna is a married lesbian, and Tiffani relocated here only weeks ago.
The other possible avenues leading to information are closing up. This heightens the urgency of your participation.
Everything depends upon you now.
You must be managed.
“Jessica, I am so sorry. The call cut off and obviously you could not be phoned back. What happened? Are you safe?”
“Oh.” You exhale. “Yeah, I guess. But that woman you sent me to? Her boyfriend was clearly on drugs.”
A tinge of something—resentment? anger?—lingers.
This must be extinguished.
“Do you need me to send a car to pick you up?”
The offer is declined, as expected.
Still, the solicitous attention to your well-being has the desired effect. Your voice modulates. Your words come more slowly as you describe your interactions. Cursory questions are asked about the two women. You are complimented on your ability to draw out their basic demographic details.
“I left Tiffani too soon to get a tip,” you say.
You are assured that you handled the situation perfectly, that your safety comes first.
Then a seed is carefully planted: “Is it possible that your prior experience with the theater director, the one you described to me in the hotel lobby, has left you feeling more vulnerable with men than you would otherwise?”
The question is delivered with compassion, naturally.
You fumble with an answer.
“I don’t—I hadn’t really thought about that,” you say.
The hint of self-doubt in your voice reveals that the query has landed effectively.
The buzz of an incoming call interrupts you. You stop speaking briefly. The number is quickly checked, but it belongs to my father. Not Thomas.
“Continue, please,” you are instructed.
Thomas has not responded to a message left for him more than an hour ago. This is atypical.
Where is he?
Your tone has remained deferential since the introduction of the possibility that your past is tainting your perceptions of your encounters with men. Perhaps you also remember how you jumped to conclusions with Scott in the hotel bar.
“The second woman, Tiffani . . . she mentioned she just moved here from Detroit.” Your sentence is halting. You are probing for information without wanting to appear accusatory.
“I was just wondering . . . you said she was a part of your study?”
It was hoped that you would overlook this detail.
You were underestimated.
A quick recovery is necessary.
“My assistant, Ben, must have transposed two digits when he took down her phone number,” you are told.
Effusive apologies are offered, and you accept them.
You must be drawn back in quickly; you will be needed again in just a few days for your most important assignment yet. A distraction is required.
Inspiration arrived serendipitously just moments ago, when my phone vibrated to signal the incoming call. The words that will entice you are selected:
“My father called today. He has a lead on a job that might be of interest.”
Your relief is obvious and immediate. A gasp, followed by a cry of delight. “Really?”
This exchange is followed by a promise that a check for your evening’s work will be ready for you the next time you come to the office.
You are brimming with questions, but you do not allow yourself to release them.
You are eased off the phone.
Supplies are gathered: A laptop. A pen and a fresh legal pad. A cup of peppermint tea, to engender alertness and warm the hands and throat.
The blueprint for your encounter with Thomas must be quickly drawn. Not a single detail can be left to chance.
There can be no missed connection this time.