Page 58 of Kismet

The man has horses, chickens, and goats, and an Australian Cattle dog named Mickey, who has one blue eye and one green eye, and is fiercely loyal to his owner. Lennon spends his days working hard, and his nights lying under the night sky, counting stars, and talking to the universe.

Lennon goes through life feeling like a piece of him is missing, like he’s not whole. A significant part of his soul is elsewhere, needing to find its way back home. So, every night, he talks to the man on the moon, wishes upon stars, and argues with the universe to let him find the missing piece of his soul, only to wake up still lonely, and do it all over again.

This is a piece I’ve been working on for a few years now. The last year of my PhD program was grueling, and I never found enough time to focus on it, but every so often, words will form in my brain, and I have to get them out. Like tonight, for example.

I type on my laptop until my fingers are sore and my eyes burn from exhaustion, only to fall asleep with it still on my lap. I spend the entirety of my weekend feeding that document chunks of my heart and soul, pouring pieces of me out until nothing is left to be said.

I don’t leave my house at all for those three days, nor do I shower. I’m a zombie by the time my head hits the pillow on Sunday night. I haven’t felt this inspired or felt such a strong need to get words out like this in five years. Since the last time Stone rocked my world and left me empty. Go figure having him back in my life sparks my creative flow.

I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a very, very unhealthy thing.

Chapter Twenty

Stone Philips

“So, how have you been, Stone? You missed our meeting the last two weeks.”

Dr. Corrine Langley is my therapist, and she has been since I first moved to Texas five years ago. She’s a wife of one of the bikers in my brother-in-law’s club, so my sister put me in touch with her as soon as I got here.

I was inbadshape when I arrived. We had appointments twice a week for the first two years, and now we’re down to once a week. I’ve come a long way from who I was when I moved to Texas.

“I’m well, thank you. I’m sorry about the last two weeks. I’ve been slammed, with me returning to work after taking some time off.”

“And how was your time off?” She gives off very stereotypical therapist vibes. She’s sitting in her chair with her leg crossed over her other, a pen and notepad in her lap, and glasses on her face that rest low on her nose. She isn’t very old, probably a few years older than I am.

“It was nice to get away for a little while. Unplug and take my mind off everything before the school year started.”

“Remind me, where did you go this year?” The end of her pen is stuck between her teeth as she cocks her head.

“On a cruise with Molly to the Mediterranean.”

She smiles softly. “How lovely. I bet that was relaxing.”

Nodding my head once, I reply, “It was.”

“This is the annual trip you and Molly take for the anniversary of your parents’ death, yes?”

“It is.”

“That’s what I thought. So, how about you tell me how work has been for you since you’ve returned, Stone.”

Based on that question alone, I’m almost positive Molly has spoken to her. She would never admit that, nor would I ask, because it would be unprofessional. While she and my sister are close, and they often discussthings—meaning my sister will voice her concerns about me like the neurotic, over-protective, control freak she is—to my knowledge she’s never spoken to my sister about what we talk about here. I’m certain this is one of those times.

“It was… fine.” Ireallydon’t want to dive into this with her. This is a wound I’m not interested in opening, but she’s going to give me no choice. She’s a shark when it comes to trauma and denial.

“Just fine? Can you elaborate for me?” Her face is always neutral. She never gives away how she’s reacting to anything I say, but I swear, there is faint amusement dancing in her eyes right now. She knows I’m avoiding.

I rub a hand over my face, dragging in a deep breath. “There’s a new professor on campus. He started the day I returned. A new English professor.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s, uh, it’s someone I know.”

“Go on,” she urges gently.

“It’s Cash. The new professor that started the very day I got back to campus is Cash.”

“Cash, from back in Washington?”

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