Page 2 of Therapy Session: Session Two
“That was really the best that I could do. You’re the last person I expected to see today. I haven’t seen you in ages, how are you?” she asked as we parted from the embrace.
“I’ve been good. What about you?” I took a seat.
“Fine, life is amazing.” She smiled and shook the mouse to wake her screen.
Mercedes and her family lived next door to mine from the time I was in kindergarten until just before we graduated high school. But she was notthisMercedes. The Cedes I knew was awkward, wore the biggest glasses, had braces, and was probably 100 pounds soaking wet. But this one? Bad. She had her hair in a long blonde wig that made her light brown eyes more noticeable. Her braces were gone, and when she turned to go back to her chair, I could see that she was thick as hell now. Judging by her looks, she had definitely been fine.
“So, you own a dealership? Look at you!” She laughed as she took the papers that I had set in front of her.
“Yeah, I do. Me and Breeze,” I answered as I sat back in the chair.
“Breeze? Breeze Young? You two stayed together? I guess I could have seen that coming from a mile away,” she giggled and adjusted the papers.
“Yeah, we’re married,” I informed her.
“That’s nice. Let me see the kids, with the long legs and pretty smiles,” she said as she turned toward me.
“No kids, yet. What about you?Mrs. Carpenter,” I emphasized as I addressed her by the last name on her name tag. I could tell by the change of name that she was married as well.
“Please, Tim. No kids and no husband. The quicker that I can detach from that name, the better.” She scoffed.
I nodded. I didn’t follow up because it wasn’t my place to. We caught up as she typed, writing down some numbers every now and then. I took the time to look around the office, which was the only color in the gray bank. The pink keyboard, fan, plush carpet underneath the desk, extension cords, and desk accessories made me chuckle. Even her degrees and accomplishments were decorated with rose gold frames.
“These two, I am able to do wonders for. This account is not a major difference. The price of paper itself is worth more than thesixty-dollar monthly difference,” she said, interrupting the small talk, as she circled the figures on the top of the pages. I looked at the first two and whistled.
“Damn, these numbers look good. I appreciate you. These rates are better than at our primary bank. If you’re offering these, I might have to make some adjustments,” I complimented as I shuffled through the pages and did the math on how much she had saved them.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll lock these rates in for you. You and your clients can talk it over, and if they would like to make the decision to refinance, I’m here, just call me,” she said as she picked up a business card and then rounded the desk. She leaned against it, standing right next to my leg, and extended the card toward me.
I reached for it, and she let her touch linger. Her fingertips were grazing the back of my hand. I glanced at her.
“Call me…” she doubled down. “For business. Or if you want someone who’s really good with numbers after hours.”
I raised my eyebrows as she crossed her legs at the ankle and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.
“After hours, huh?”
She shrugged innocently, but her eyes didn’t match the act.
“Yes, after hours. You’d be surprised how flexible my schedule can get. Especially when it’s someone I already know.” She gave a small smirk as her eyes slowly raked my body, then came back up to my face.
“Cedes, you were never this bold.”
“No, Tim. I wasalwaysthis bold. But now my outer appearance just makes you pay attention to it,” she corrected me.
I didn’t respond to her right away. I wasn’t here to mix business with pleasure. I had to make a decision. The rates she provided for me would be sure to get us another good wave ofcustomers, but she was already trying cross a boundary. I wasn’t fucking with that.
Tucking the card into my pants. I stood to leave. “Cedes, I’m not sure how the branch manager would feel knowing you’re the reason this partnership didn’t go through,” I laughed as I passed her.
“Timothy, please. If you want a professional relationship, I can do that. But I didn’t expect the man who threw my love letter away fifteen years ago to walk into the office and look as good as the day I last saw him.”
She laughed at my confusion as she sucked her bottom lip.
“What are you talking about, Cedes?” I questioned.
“The day we moved, I wrote a letter to you. I told you I liked you, said goodbye, and gave you my cell phone number so we could keep in touch. I watched you in the cafeteria when Tatiana gave you the letter. You held it in your hand for about two minutes, never opened it, and threw it in the trash.” She smiled. But it never reached her eyes.
“I don’t remember that at all, but that was fucked up. My bad, I guess,” I apologized.
