Page 100 of The Associate
He managed, through stuttering sentences and long pauses, to schedule an appointment for the next afternoon. Maya’s voice remained a steady, soothing presence on the other end, guiding him through the logistics with infinite patience.
When she finally said, “We’ll see you tomorrow at four, Samuel. Dr. Vance is looking forward to meeting you,” he felt a bizarre mix of terror and a relief so profound it made him lightheaded.
“Th... thank you,” he whispered.
“Take care of yourself until then. We’ll see you soon.”
The call ended.
He took a big, shuddering breath. It felt like the first full breath he’d taken in years.
He closed the book and placed it carefully on his bedside table, the card sitting on top like a promise. It was early, hours before his usual bedtime. But a wave of exhaustion, dense and total, crashed over him. He changed into soft sleep pants and a t-shirt, routines performed on autopilot, and climbed beneath the cool duvet.
He lay in the dark, staring at the faint light pollution painting his ceiling a soft orange. The fear about tomorrow was there, a buzzing undercurrent. But beneath it was something else. A tiny, fragile sense of…hope. He had done something. For himself.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand, a stark, blue-lit vibration in the dark.
He reached for it. The screen glowed. A message from an unknown number.
His thumb hovered. Then he tapped.
Good night, Samuel.
-G.
The air left his lungs in a soft, punched-out rush.Gael. The world narrowed to the glow of the screen, to those four words. He read it again. And again.
His hands shook as he typed back, his thumbs clumsy.
Good night, Sir.
He sent it before he could overthink, before the shame could rise up and stop him.
It came anyway, of course. That tiny, sharp voice in the back of his head, the ghost of the Director, of his father.
But as he stared at the screen, at the two messages sitting there in their own little universe the voice grew tinier. It was drownedout by the warmth pooling low in his stomach, by the memory of a firm hand on his jaw, a voice telling him to breathe, a gaze that saw his fear and didn’t look away.
The shame was still there. It might always be there, a scar on his soul. But for the first time, it wasn’t the loudest thing in the room.
∞∞∞
The office building was modern but nondescript, a glass and steel box nestled among other glass and steel boxes. Samuel stood on the sidewalk across the street, his heart performing a frantic, arrhythmic tap dance against his ribs. He’d been here for ten minutes, caught in a feedback loop of walking to the crosswalk, stopping, turning back, pacing.
You don’t have to do this. You can just go home. No one will know.
But Gael’s voice echoed in his head.Truth. Honesty.
He crossed the street.
The lobby was calm, done in soothing shades of sage and cream. The receptionist, a young woman with a friendly smile, Maya he suspected, took his name and directed him to a waiting area with plush chairs and a trickling water feature. Samuel chose the chair farthest from the door, his back to a wall. He sat with his knees pressed together, his hands clenched on the briefcase in his lap. He felt like an imposter, a spy in the land of the unwell. Everyone else here looked… normal. A young woman flipping through a magazine. An older man checking his watch.
A door down a short hallway opened. A woman emerged, smiling at the older man. “Robert? We’re ready for you.” As Robert stood and followed her, a different woman appeared in the doorway. She was older, perhaps in her late fifties, with a cap of soft, silver-grey hair cut in a neat bob. She wore elegant, dark-rimmed glasses and a simple, comfortable-looking sweater over tailored trousers. A freckled young man with flaming red hair followed her out, pausing for a moment as they exchanged a few words before he waved at Maya and made his way out of the office The doctor’s eyes, a warm hazel, scanned the waiting area and landed on Samuel.
“Samuel?” Her voice was exactly as he’d imagined; melodic, calm, carrying a natural warmth that didn’t feel forced.
He stood up too quickly, his briefcase tumbling to the floor. He fumbled for it, his face heating. “Y-yes. That’s me.”
“I’m Jasmine,” she said, her smile deepening into something that reached her eyes, creating gentle crinkles at their corners. “It’s so nice to meet you. Come on in.”
