Page 11 of Untouchable

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On Monday morning,Parker is looking over his schedule for the week when he notices all of Thursday afternoon is blocked off.

Morton Harper.

Parker grits his teeth. He’d explained what had happened to Dr. Breen, his boss, who’d been surprisingly reassuring about the whole incident, but Parker had hoped that would be the last time he had to think about that awful day.

“Hey, Mindy, I think you made a mistake,” Parker says, leaning over the reception desk, where Mindy is currently reading a list about which female celebrities did and did not pull off blue eyeshadow this year.

“Excuse you, I never make mistakes,” she says, not looking up from her screen.

“Mindy, come on. Please,” he says, and she glances up at him. Mindy is his co-worker, but she’s also his housemate and his best friend, and she knows him well enough to understand when he’s not in the mood to joke around.

“Ugh, fine,” she says dramatically, but she winks at him. She pulls up the schedule and Parker points to the screen.

“I think this is an error,” Parker says, hoping he won’t have to explain the whole thing to Mindy again. He’d still been on the edge of tears by the time he’d gotten home that Thursday, and Mindy had plied him with ice cream and trashy TV shows until he’d felt calm enough to explain the whole thing.

“It was set up as a repeat appointment, but it’s, uh… not anymore,” Parker says.

“Nope, that’s correct,” she says, pursing her bubblegum pink lips. “I thought you knew. He called, like, an hour ago to confirm. Asked for you specifically. Well, he forgot your name, but said—” She deepens her voice in what is clearly supposed to be an imitation of Harp. “You know, really smiley? Looks kind of like a Ken doll?”

Parker’s face goes beet red.

“That can’t be right.”

“I mean, you do look like a Ken doll. It works, though, because I know Morgan calls me Barbie behind my back, so it’s like we’re—”

“No,” Parker splutters. “I mean—the appointment. I—I need to call him.”

Parker steps outside, not needing an audience for what he’s sure is about to be the most awkward conversation of his life—that is, if Harp even picks up the phone. This seems unlikely, given how Parker had left about five increasingly frantic messages on Harp’s machine when he’d been late and lost in the canyon.

But it’s just Parker’s luck that Harp picks up on the second ring, before Parker has even had a chance to collect his thoughts.

"Hello, caller—you're on the air!"

“Um, sorry,” Parker says, frowning. “I think I must have the wrong number, I was trying to reach Mr. Harper—”

"Uh, no, yep—I mean, yeah this is Harp."

Parker swallows hard, his heartbeat going a million miles an hour.

“Er—okay—um, this is Parker James? From Rocky Mountain Bodywork Center? I, um, was just calling to, um, in regards to the appointment you scheduled?”

"Listen, if there's a problem getting up here, you don't need to come back—someone else could come who has a truck or..."

“I… It’s not that—Mindy said, ah—you’d—requested me, and I, uh—” Parker’s pretty sure if his face gets any redder he’s going to end up with permanent tissue damage. There’s something about Harp that keeps throwing Parker for a loop, as though he’s in some carnival funhouse and the floor is sliding out from underneath him.

"You can send someone else,” Harp says. “I totally understand, if after last time you aren't willing to—"

“If—if I’m not willing... Wha—I’m confused.” Parker stops and clears his throat, realizing it’s up to him to clarify things. “You want me to come back?”

"Yeah." The word hangs in the air.

“But... why?” Parker asks. He’s been pacing around the side of the building this entire time, but he stops now, looking up at the high ridge of the mountains just outside the town limits, as if he’ll see Harp perched up at the peak.

"Oh, you know, I thought we could have some tea out on the porch, watch the sunset together," Harp says, his voice deadpan.

Parker pauses, attempting to collect his thoughts, but it’s akin to trying to catch a swarm of gnats. “I’m—I’m sorry, I’m confused—did—did you want another appointment? I thought—after the last time—”

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