Page 59 of His Gift
"She's traumatized. She was finally falling asleep!" What the fuck does he have against me? I'm the one who has the right to be angry. A flicker of guilt crosses his eyes. Never too late.
"I've been reassigned. Garcia and Clark will take my place. Here." He shows me a bag filled to the brim. "Groceries, everything you need for your shakes and a burner phone. Agent Levy told me you can make that call."
"Good. Thank you. I'll be there." I point down the corridor and he nods. "Call me if she needs me." He nods again. Maybe we've found an agreement or he's as tired of this bullshit as I am. Not that it matters. We're getting rid of him.
Now it's time to make some progress, hopefully.
"Doctor Kowalski? Hi. My name is Conrad Sinclair. I'm..." what the hell am I? "Harper Schmidt's fiancé." Hopefully. If we can get out ofthis mess. "I know you can't speak about your patients, but I'm calling because Harper suffered another attack. She has... closed herself off from the world. From me. And I was hoping you could... Since you already have a connection..."Shit.What do you say to a shrink?
"Mr. Sinclair, you're right, I can't say anything specific, but of course I'd be happy to help if Harper wants to talk to me. The first attack was a terrible trauma, and I understand how the second one may have aggravated things. I'm so sorry it happened. One big trauma in anyone's life is bad enough. Two... Is she safe now?"
One big trauma? "I'll make sure she's safe from now on. You mentioned her past might be playing a part in her current state, right?"
"Yes. As I said, the first attack must have been—"The first attack my ass.
"I'm talking about her uncle. And me, probably. I understand you can't go into details with me, but her reaction to this... it feels connected to something deeper."
"I... Mr. Sinclair, I think this conversation has already gone too far. I'm more than happy to help Harper, but she has to call me herself. I understand you want to help, but I really can't discuss her case with you directly. Please encourage her to reach out. I want to help her."
She closes the call, and I'm left watching the phone in disbelief. The Doctor sounded distressed and I'm pretty sure Harper never told her what happened with her uncle. She's still hiding. What did she write in her journal? What's going on in her head? I want to find out, but who knowswhen the Feds will give us back our electronics, if ever. I'll nag them to at least give Harper her books back, but... Would I even read her journal if I could access it? I don't know, but at the moment I'm happy I don't havethatchoice.
forty-six
Conrad
She's not on the couch anymore. Or in the bathroom. I find her hiding in the bedroom, tucked away under the covers.
"Harper…" I sigh and lie beside her. I hoped to get some help—some useful insight—from her doctor. Instead, I've found another problem. "If you want to stay in bed, I'll stay here with you. If you don't want to shower for a month straight, I won't shower either, and we can smell together." I hear a snort and then she pokes her head from the covers. Good. "And if you don't want to talk, I'll keep my mouth shut, too. Take your time. Do what you need to do. I'll be here, no matter what. I ask only that you eat something and let a doctor check your hip to be sure you're healed and don't need any more rehab." I've gone at her too strong. I didn't understand how deeply she was hiding. Maybe all she needs is to know she is free to hurt. She's free to feel whatever she's feeling. It makes sense. She wasn't allowed to do so when she was a kid.
"I don't smell."
"Well, no, you don't. Now." I smirk and she smirks back. Is it working? "I need your help, sweet girl. I know you're a good cook and my shoulder is busted. Can you help me with my shakes and cook something for you too? There's a bag full of groceries waiting in the kitchen." On the floor, to be precise, because she scared me with her disappearance.
"You don't need my help. You've never asked that before."
"Because I'm a… what did you say? Possessive, obsessive, overbearing psycho? But I truly need your help. And you're the only one who can make me say those words."
Another small smile, barely there. But it is there.
"Okay."Victory.
I should be happy. I want to be happy. All I feel is dread.
It abates slightly while we put the groceries away and tightens again, coil by coil, with every instruction she follows, every measurement she takes,every ingredient she carefully puts in the blender, until I choke on every word I say.She's taking care of me. I should let her. I wanted her to.
"Conrad." Harper's hand is on my arm and she's smiling at me. "I'm glad to learn how to cook for you.Thankyou."
"There's no one else I'd trust." I know Harper understands what I mean. I could still do it by myself with a busted shoulder. Burgers and fries, though, are off the menu for good. I've never shown this side of me to anyone—my fragility, as much as I hate to admit it. To be fair, there wasn't anyone.
"Let's see how it turned out. Can I taste it?"
"Of course you can."
She pours the blender's contents into a glass and takes a sip. And I laugh at her scrunched-up face.
"Not exactly tasty, huh?"
"No." Harper puts the glass down, goes on her tiptoes, and kisses me. Her lips are soft, hesitant, and I let her control it. I let her end it too soon, even though all I want is to keep going. I even bite my tongue when all she eats is cereal and milk.
