Forever Checking (Checked Series Book 3) (3 page)

Onetwothree. Reply.

Sounds good. See you after work.

Onetwothree. Send.

Quick decision.

Reply again.

:)

Onetwothree. Send.

Send…because it might make him keep smiling. Might keep him happy. For a little while longer. For as long as I can make it last. If I could just—

BUZZ.

Melanie again. Third unanswered text.

Damn it.
How do I keep getting myself into these dangerous numerical situations?

Open text before number four appears.

Text one.

Thanks so much, Callie. Doug will drop her off with Mandy at noon.

Text two.

If you have stuff to do, studying or a paper to write or whatever, do what you need to do. I’ll send Abby’s Barbies with her. They’ll keep her occupied for hours!

Text three.

Gotta run. Thanks, Callie! Oh—and please don’t mention the bleeding to Abby. Doug and I just told her that I need to rest a little. I don’t want to worry her.

Reply.

Good idea. No problem. REST!

Send.

Okay. Time for thirty-three times three leaving-the-house checks. And…GO.

Bathroom shower: water off (Place hand under the shower head and then under the bath faucet to confirm that no liquid is escaping anywhere). Bathroom sink: water off (Check faucet in the same way as the shower head and bath faucet were checked). Hair dryer: unplugged (Stare at the plug. Stare at the outlet. Make sure that the plug doesn’t jump into the outlet).  Hair straightener: unplugged (Use same method as is used for hair dryer plug). Bathroom counter: empty. Mirror: clean. Toilet: not running (Listen carefully). Air vent: uncovered (Pull the vent out of the floor. Stick entire hand and half of arm down air vent passageway to check for blockages). Light: off. Bedroom floor: clean. Air vents: uncovered (Use previous air vent checking method. Repeat this process for all subsequent air vent checks.). Bed: made. TV: off. Light: off. Mandy’s room: at a tolerable level of cleanliness. Air vents: uncovered (Make sure that Mandy hasn’t thrown clothing or papers or candy wrappers on top of the vents. Then use the previously explained air vent checking method). Light: off. Hallway light: off. Thermostat: 70 degrees. Laundry closet light: off. Laundry closet: closed. Hallway bathroom sink: water off (Use previously mentioned official faucet drip checking method. Unofficially also check hallway bathroom shower faucet for dripping. This is not in my thirty-three checks because that would make thirty-four checks. So it’s an unofficial check. A check on the side. Off of the record. So it doesn’t count. It doesn’t mess up my count. Oh—but still use the official faucet drip checking method for this step). Toilet: not running. Air vent: uncovered. Light: off. Kitchen sink: water off. Stove: off (Put hand on all of the burners to verify a lack of any heat whatsoever. Also place hand in the oven for the same purpose). Refrigerator door: closed. Air vents: uncovered. Light: off. Living room floor: clean. Air vents: uncovered. Light: off.

Do it all again.

Then do it all again.

Time for class.

CLASS WAS FINE. UNEVENTFUL. NOW I’m back at work. It’s fine and uneventful too.

Brittany showed up a few minutes ago and—

And she’s just sent me a ticket. Brittany. Computer 7.

Open message.

Hope you enjoyed the conference. Loved your articles!

My articles.

I forgot about those.

What the hell?

I just forgot. Completely forgot about my articles. About my words, my sentences, actually being published. About other people reading them. Well, some people reading them. Very few people when you consider all of the people on this planet. But still. My words are out there. People have read them. And I forgot that it happened.

What is wrong with me?
Seriously. A dream of mine came true. A quiet, never-spoken-aloud dream. It came true. It happened. And I didn’t even take the time to realize it. I never really even thought about it until now.

Too much other stuff happening at the same time, I guess.

I click to reply to Brittany.

Thanks, Brittany.

Send.

{Oh Aerosmith, now you sing
“Dream On
.” Why weren’t you serenading me while I was writing my articles? Why weren’t you helping me to stop and realize what was happening, reminding me to stop and…and at least recognize what was going on?}

I am seriously messed up.

Messed the hell up.

What’s going to happen next? Am I going to have a child or get my doctorate or something and not even bother to notice?

Messed. The Hell. Up.

{And it’s not your fault, Aerosmith. It’s mine. Sorry. Keep singing.}

I spend the rest of my work shift trying to read Joseph Conrad’s
Heart of Darkness,
my new assignment for Lit Analysis class. But I don’t read anything. Instead, I sit and wonder what Langston Hughes would think of not a “Dream Deferred” but a Dream Overlooked. A Dream Unnoticed. A dream buried beneath a mental mountain of shit.

7:12 P.M. I DRIVE HOME FROM work, switching mental gears. No longer thinking about missed dreams. Instead thinking about upcoming therapy-oriented nightmares. I wonder what I am going to have to do toni—

I pull into my driveway.

He’s here.

It’s time.

{Janet Jackson sits in fancy loungewear on her bed, singing “
Again
.”}

I release my seatbelt as I pull into my spot. Mandy’s space is empty. Not surprising. Also probably good.

She would most likely be way too entertained by this evening therapy appointment where we—

Where we what? Do what?

I have no freaking clue. But I am sure that it will involve something gross. Something that’s going to make my head, my mind, hurt. Something that’s going to make my body tense. And sweaty. And—

And why am I voluntarily doing this again? I couldn’t do anything right the first time, and—

My phone is buzzing.

I reach over to the passenger seat to grab my purse, digging my phone out right away.

One text. From him.

Him—only feet away from me in his car. I turn my head around to try to see him, to see if he’s still in his car. But it’s too dark.

Facing forward again. Okay.

One. Two. Three. Open.

I’m coming to get you now.

Without warning, my mouth starts to smile.

Because it almost seems normal. Like we are going on a date. Like he’s picking me up to go to dinner or to, well, to do something that normal people do for fun without worrying incessantly about germs and diseases and music and—

My door is opening. Slowly.

“Ready, Callie?” Soft. Low. Serious.

I slip my phone into my purse and turn my head toward my open door. Toward him.

I just see his hand. Hanging in front of me. Waiting for me.

One. Two. Three.

I reach out and take it. Take his hand. Take his warmth. Take the tingly feeling running up my arm.
{Janet keeps singing.}

I step my copper-colored pumps out of the car, onto the driveway, and I push myself up to—

Before I can even meet his eyes…before I am even properly standing, his arms pull me in.

My head falls onto his shoulder, into his neck. The smell of his cologne…of him…surrounds me. My body lines up tightly against his.

Heart racing. Mind pounding.

Three inch copper heels struggling to stay upright on the driveway.

{John Legend reprises his “
All of Me
” quietly, taking me back to a hotel room, my hotel room. White covers. Purple silk pajamas. Him. Everywhere.}

His hands move on my back, in my hair. He pulls me closer and—

And he whispers now. “I know we have to get to work soon, but I need a few more minutes like this. Just a few minutes.”

He pulls his head back slowly. Just his head. His body stays close, his hips still pushing into mine.

And his eyes—

They are thinking about that hotel room too.

His lips find my neck, my collarbone, my—

Lights. Shining right at us. Around us. Through us.

Simultaneously, we move a few inches apart and squint toward the lights. Toward Mandy’s car, which is pulling in right beside us.

Shit.

I start to pull back more, to move further away from him. Then I stop.

Because what is the point? We don’t have to hide this. He’s not my doctor anymore. I’m not like a nun or anything. And we aren’t young tenth graders sneaking around…even though it sort of feels that way right—

Mandy’s passenger side window rolls down. She’s only a couple of feet away from us. Her face leans over to look at us. Her smile is enormous. MAMMOTH.

{The Wallflowers replace John Legend with “
One Headlight
.” Two headlights. Two freaking headlights.}

I just shake my head and smile back. What else is there to do? I glance up at him. He’s smiling too. At me.

Mandy laughs, and we both look back her way. She bites the tip of her tongue in amusement. Literally, she bites her tongue.

Maybe she’ll also figuratively—

No such luck. She starts to speak.

“Sorry to interrupt. Your therapy looks pretty…” Her eyes twinkle. “Intense.” Her eyebrows go up and down ridiculously.

I laugh. And change the subject. “What are you doing home, Mandy?”

“Oh, I forgot a notebook that I need. I think I left it on my bed. I hope I left it on my bed.”

“Maybe if you kept your room clean—” I start, teasing her.

Mandy shakes her head, cuts me off, and looks up and out of her window. She looks directly at him. “Aren’t you going to fix this? This mad obsession with cleanliness?” She smiles at him.

He nods his head at her, amused. “I’ll see what I can do.” He continues. “And speaking of that, we’d better get going so we don’t miss tonight’s activity.”

“Oh, I think I just drove in on tonight’s activity,” Mandy throws back, laughing again and smiling at me.

I just shake my head. “Have a good night, Mandy. Be careful.”

Her ridiculous, teasing smile fades into a natural, normal Mandy smile. “You too, Callie. Good luck.”

She says goodbye to both of us as she gets out of her car and runs into the house. The house door closes and—

“Ready to go?”

At the sound of his voice, I turn to look back at his still smiling face.

And I nod.

Back to work. Back to therapy.

Chapter 4

day one therapy session—no, day six therapy session

HE STARTS DRIVING…SOMEWHERE. I sit in the passenger seat wondering about that somewhere.

We ride in silence for a few moments. No talking. No music. Obviously.
{Except in my head—where The Wallflowers are still singing.}

I glance over at him. Casual tonight. Very casual. Dark jeans. Black leather jacket.

My dress is probably too dressy for whatever we are—

He glances over briefly, catching my eyes. Catching me looking at him.

His mouth turns up in a quick smile, but his eyes are elsewhere. Somewhere serious. He looks back at the road…the one that is taking us to some fresh hell, no doubt.

{No Doubt begins “
Don’t Speak
.”}

He breathes in slowly, as if he is about to say—

“I think you are beautiful. Don’t forget that.”

What?

He doesn’t look at me. He looks ahead, at the road.

Um…okay.

“Thanks.” I say it with appreciation, but also with confusion. With questions.

He doesn’t say anything else. It is silent again.

AGAIN.

{Gwen Stefani keeps encouraging him to keep his mouth shut. Or is she talking to me?}

I stare straight ahead. And talk. “Why should I not, um, forget what you think, what you say you, um, think about me?”

Lovely, Callie. Poetic. Just—

“Open the glove compartment.”

What the hell?

He doesn’t look at me. And he doesn’t say anything else.

So I listen. I reach in front of me and pull the handle on the glove compartment, knowing, trusting that no one other than him has probably touched it in years. He wouldn’t have told me to touch it otherwise.

Unless…unless this is part of my therapy and he’s going to tell me that some diseased pers—

“Okay, grab the bag inside. Don’t worry—everything is clean.”

Oh
. Good. Okay.

I grab the glossy black bag that sits alone in his glove compartment. I wonder where he keeps his car registration and insur—

“All right. Open the bag when you’re ready.”

When I’m ready? What am I opening? A collection of used Band-Aids? Or needles? A stranger’s sperm sample? Some sort of—

“Callie. It’s clean. It’s all clean.”

Right. That’s right. He already said that.

Okay.

One. Two. Three.

Open. Look.

It just looks like packaging. I can’t tell what it is.

Okay…

One. Two. Three.

I stick my hand in the glossy bag and touch the plastic package inside. I pull it out of the bag slowly, no clue what I’m—

Oh.

Scissors. A new pair of small scissors sealed in plastic.

All right…

I look over at him. He glances at me for a second before his eyes return to the road.