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Authors: Lisa M. Cronkhite
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Stay better. Stay healthy, Katherine.”
“I know, Doctor. You’re right. I will try to stay on track.”
I left the doctor’s office and thought long and hard about what he’d said. Should I report what happened to the police?
Chapter Thirteen
Thinking of the doctor’s visit a little more, I filled my prescriptions at the drugstore just before I went home. The visit caused me to think about just what I was doing to Jeremy; he was probably telling John how off I’d been behaving. Jeremy knew I wasn’t getting much sleep, and lately he wasn’t sleeping much either. For the past few months, he’d been sleeping on the couch in the front room, like a watchdog. I continued to worry about what he was thinking of me and felt as though I’d lost touch with him somewhere along the lines. Even though I went to every game and picked him up from hockey, that wasn’t enough. He was doing exceedingly well in school, so I didn’t have to worry about that. Every now and then I would ask him if he had a girl on the side, but nothing was ever confirmed. He too seemed to keep things hidden, just like his mother. I guess his devotion to hockey and getting the scholarship to the University of Lake Superior College glazed over all that.
Once home, I raced upstairs to check on my e-mails. I was appalled. There were over thirty messages from Dean. I can’t continue on with this sick charade, I thought. What in God’s name have I done to deserve this? The e-mail subject lines included: Forgive me, and: You’ll be sorry, bitch. Just reading them, I knew I was dealing with a very mentally ill man. I checked off each one and deleted them all and afterward felt somehow relieved they were gone—that I’d deleted him in some way and been strong enough not to read them. I wasn’t about to enter inside his sick world, but in my heart I knew it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
When I looked at the time, I realized my meds were ready to be picked up. Just as I was about to head out the door, my cell phone rang.
“Hey, babycakes. Did you make our plans?”
“No, I haven’t thought about that much, Mitch. I’m sorry.”
“How about I give you a break and do the bookings myself. I will make the plans this time. Just leave it up to me. We could go on my yacht in the Bahamas. How’s the end of November sound?”
“Mitch, that’s less than a month away. I’ll have to make sure Jeremy will be okay, and I’ll have to let Mr. Ming know I’ll be gone.”
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem, you’re always traveling. It’s your job, Kat. Besides, Jeremy is almost an adult. He’ll be fine by himself. Who knows; maybe he’ll even have a big party while you’re gone?”
“Ha! Jeremy’s not like that,” I yelled out. “Don’t say that.”
“Oh, lighten up, Kat, he’ll be fine.”
I had mixed emotions about going on this supposed trip. I did want to get away―that feeling inside me never escaped my mind―but I didn’t want Mitch thinking I was getting excited about it. The thought of an escape calmed my thoughts enough for me to agree.
“Okay, Mitch, you got me. Make the plans. I’ll talk to my boss in the morning.”
* * * *
After I picked up my prescriptions at the drugstore, I headed back home. While I was in the car, I rummaged through my purse for another smoke.
Damn, my last one . I turned around to the nearest convenience store.
As I walked in, I noticed the same coffee-complexioned girl behind the register. She was new, having started there a few weeks before. Her lips were penciled with dark lip-liner, and her eyebrows had piercings. She slipped me my Newport Lights across the counter. The tattooed construction worker poured Columbian roast as the scent mingled in the air. I swiped my debit card through and glanced at the man’s tattoos, and just as I did, a thought of Dean pierced through me like a first blood draw.
A paper-thin lady was standing near the magazines scratching rub-off tickets with
“I know, Doctor. You’re right. I will try to stay on track.”
I left the doctor’s office and thought long and hard about what he’d said. Should I report what happened to the police?
Chapter Thirteen
Thinking of the doctor’s visit a little more, I filled my prescriptions at the drugstore just before I went home. The visit caused me to think about just what I was doing to Jeremy; he was probably telling John how off I’d been behaving. Jeremy knew I wasn’t getting much sleep, and lately he wasn’t sleeping much either. For the past few months, he’d been sleeping on the couch in the front room, like a watchdog. I continued to worry about what he was thinking of me and felt as though I’d lost touch with him somewhere along the lines. Even though I went to every game and picked him up from hockey, that wasn’t enough. He was doing exceedingly well in school, so I didn’t have to worry about that. Every now and then I would ask him if he had a girl on the side, but nothing was ever confirmed. He too seemed to keep things hidden, just like his mother. I guess his devotion to hockey and getting the scholarship to the University of Lake Superior College glazed over all that.
Once home, I raced upstairs to check on my e-mails. I was appalled. There were over thirty messages from Dean. I can’t continue on with this sick charade, I thought. What in God’s name have I done to deserve this? The e-mail subject lines included: Forgive me, and: You’ll be sorry, bitch. Just reading them, I knew I was dealing with a very mentally ill man. I checked off each one and deleted them all and afterward felt somehow relieved they were gone—that I’d deleted him in some way and been strong enough not to read them. I wasn’t about to enter inside his sick world, but in my heart I knew it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
When I looked at the time, I realized my meds were ready to be picked up. Just as I was about to head out the door, my cell phone rang.
“Hey, babycakes. Did you make our plans?”
“No, I haven’t thought about that much, Mitch. I’m sorry.”
“How about I give you a break and do the bookings myself. I will make the plans this time. Just leave it up to me. We could go on my yacht in the Bahamas. How’s the end of November sound?”
“Mitch, that’s less than a month away. I’ll have to make sure Jeremy will be okay, and I’ll have to let Mr. Ming know I’ll be gone.”
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem, you’re always traveling. It’s your job, Kat. Besides, Jeremy is almost an adult. He’ll be fine by himself. Who knows; maybe he’ll even have a big party while you’re gone?”
“Ha! Jeremy’s not like that,” I yelled out. “Don’t say that.”
“Oh, lighten up, Kat, he’ll be fine.”
I had mixed emotions about going on this supposed trip. I did want to get away―that feeling inside me never escaped my mind―but I didn’t want Mitch thinking I was getting excited about it. The thought of an escape calmed my thoughts enough for me to agree.
“Okay, Mitch, you got me. Make the plans. I’ll talk to my boss in the morning.”
* * * *
After I picked up my prescriptions at the drugstore, I headed back home. While I was in the car, I rummaged through my purse for another smoke.
Damn, my last one . I turned around to the nearest convenience store.
As I walked in, I noticed the same coffee-complexioned girl behind the register. She was new, having started there a few weeks before. Her lips were penciled with dark lip-liner, and her eyebrows had piercings. She slipped me my Newport Lights across the counter. The tattooed construction worker poured Columbian roast as the scent mingled in the air. I swiped my debit card through and glanced at the man’s tattoos, and just as I did, a thought of Dean pierced through me like a first blood draw.
A paper-thin lady was standing near the magazines scratching rub-off tickets with
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