Page 52 of Hoodoo House
He rummaged through his dresser and pulled out a pair of black jeans and a black sweatshirt which he put on. Then he donned the leather mask. Baton in hand, held out to his side, he looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t believe it. What stared back at him was not the wimpy Henry Quill. It was The Slithe! He screamed with delight as he jumped around the room, doing his best impression of a martial arts expert. Today was the best day in Henry Quill’s life.
Chapter Twenty-One
Declan stopped by the local flower shop and bought a bouquet of tiger lilies. He checked his watch—three-forty-five, fifteen minutes to go.
As he parked his van and walked up to 16thAvenue and Centre Street, he thought about how he and Michael had met. It was when Declan had been ejected from the force. He’d been escorted out of the police station by his senior partner Gary Sawchuck, who had stayed by Declan’s side as he had cleared out his locker in anticipation of his firing or worse, a potential jail sentence. They’d ended up at Sawchuck’s favourite pub far away from the station and it was there that Sawchuck had admitted he had no respect for the cop that Declan had beaten up. After all, the guy was clearly a bigot and had been waiting for a reason to pick a fight with Declan. The guy just hadn’t anticipated that Declan’s response would leave him so badly injured.
Sawchuck had said that whatever had triggered the rage in Declan—a rage that had resulted in Declan nearly beating the man to death—it had to be dealt with. He had suggested that Declan should seek out the help of a therapist as soon as possible. It would help him with his anger and would also look good to the board of inquiry which would undoubtedly be contacted regarding the incident. Sawchuck had placed a call then and there and arranged for Declan to see Michael.
“I think you’ll find you two have a lot in common,” he’d said.
Declan wasn’t sure if Sawchuck was setting up a therapy session or a date. He should have known better.
Michael, it turned out, was a woman. She specialized in trauma and had treated a lot of cops. Michael’s wife had been an officer who was on the drug squad working undercover. She had been killed in a raid and through the process of dealing with her own grief, Michael had told Declan that she’d discovered that she had a gift for comforting her wife’s colleagues. She had revealed that it was at that moment that she’d decided to help other cops deal with their trauma.
Declan recalled that during his first session, Michael had told a story about her given name. Her mother had always loved that name for a woman. When Michael had come out of the closet, her mother had been concerned that the name she’d chosen for her daughter had done something to cause her to become a lesbian. It took her a good year to convince her mother that shewent lesbianall by herself. The thing about Michael was that she understood how a difficult relationship with a parent could twist someone around for a long time when it came to being gay.
Declan remembered a lot about the early sessions with Michael. He had found her one of the easiest people in the world to talk to. By their third or fourth meeting, he had completely broken down in front of her, something he’d never done before. He was nothing but a puddle of tears talking about his father and the way he could turn Declan into a quivering child just by walking through the door. Michael had given him the tools to control his feelings and with each session, Declan had taken a step closer to leaving his childhood fears behind.
Declan shook himself free of his thoughts, and when he looked up, discovered he was already outside of Michael’s building. He opened the door and made his way into the waiting room. Right on time.
Michael poked her head out of her office. “Come on in.”
He followed her in and gave her the flowers. “Happy birthday,” he said.
“You never forget. Thank you. Now tell me, how come you know my favourite flowers?”
Declan smiled. “You’re not the only one who listens during our sessions. I remember you talking about the flowers you had on your wedding day.”
Declan sat down on a chair, and waited as Michael poured two glasses of water from a pitcher, put the flowers in the remaining water in the pitcher then set the glasses in front of them. She sat down and referred to her notes.
“So,” she started, “have you given any thought to what we talked about last time?”
He shook his head and smiled. “I am fucked,” he said. “Charlie knows about you.”
“Good,” Michael said. “Did you tell him what we discussed on Monday?”
“Not exactly,” Declan replied. “He doesn’t knowwhoyou are, he just knows I’m seeing someone named Michael. He saw your text after our appointment. He made some assumptions.”
“So why didn’t you clear those assumptions up?”
Declan rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers like he was having a bad headache. “I didn’t want him to know I was in therapy. It just opens up a whole conversation I’m not sure I want to have.”
Michael took a sip of her water. “A conversation about why you’re seeing a therapist, or a conversation about how, on our last visit, you expressed that you were falling in love with him?”
Declan massaged his temples a little faster.
“We’re here so you can be honest with yourself and others,” Michael said. “So tell me what you’re so afraid of? What’s the worst that could happen?”
Declan threw up his hands and confessed, “If something happened between us, I could lose him.”
“Who, the person you love, or the person who’s your employee?”
Declan was nervous when the word ‘love’ came up in regards to Charlie. He froze when the word came out of Michael’s mouth, then sagged back into the chair and said, “Either.”
“Okay. So, maybe you should start a relationship with Charlie and hire another office boy.”
“I can’t fire Charlie, and I don’t want another office boy. Charlie is…perfect.”
