Page 101 of Plentywood
“I hate my fucking life,”I’d answered after she first inquired about the purpose of me scheduling a session.
“Can you be more specific?”
“My life sucks dick,” I’d added. “Specific enough?”
“Are you always this warm in nature?”she’d inquired, remaining surprisingly calm.
“My husband died a bit over two years ago?”
“I could see how that might suck dick,” she’d replied, again, speaking clinically even after that line.
I laughed out loud at her retort. She definitely got me off my high horse about me wasting my time with her. I liked a person who wasn’t afraid to throw my bullshit back in my face. Mark did that. Ben did that even better.
“You always speak to your… your… people like that?” I’d asked.
“You can say patient, Hunter. It’d be okay to admit you need my help,” she’d corrected.
“I guess I’m stuck, doc,” I’d admitted. “People think that about me, too.”
“And what do you think you are?”
“An asshole,” I’d said.
“Besides the obvious, Hunt?”
I immediately liked her. Bonnie Long was funny, and she was direct. For an internet shrink whose name I found because of a health insurance referral, she was cool. Once I’d convinced the guy on the insurance hotline that I wasn’t suicidal, I got approved for ten telephone visits to start.
Today was appointment number four. I hated to admit that I looked forward to sparring with Bonnie today. It seemed safer to speak to someone you didn’t have to face and that I’d never met. She knew jackshit about me, other than the talks, and didn’t assume that I was some uptight law enforcement dude.
In fact, she was going to be impressed when I told her I’d taken her advice and made a few changes around the house. She’d warned me to take baby steps with each new action I took regarding learning to accept a loss. I’d reminded her it had been two years. I’d already accepted the loss. She’d asked why I’d called her then.Touché, wise woman.
My cell buzzed, and I recognized the 1-800 number on the screen. “Hi Bonnie.”
“Life still sucking dick, Hunter?” she joked.
I looked around my living room. “Not as much today,” I reported.
“Good,” she chuckled. “Now tell me. What steps did you take today to win Doctor Ben back?”
“Well, let’s see,” I began.
Bella curled up on the sofa with me, her head on my lap. I noticed the first bit of snow drifting to the frozen ground outside. Maybe we’d have a white Christmas. I hit Speaker on my cell and sat it down in front of me. An hour went by fast when you poured your heart out.
I leaned over and turned the lamp on. It was time to stop sitting in the dark.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR: Benedict
Walking on Main Street reminded me of the holidays in Time’s Square, but on a much smaller scale. Plentywood’s Chamber of Commerce had wrapped the light poles with tinsel rope and hung an elaborate holiday decoration at the top of each one. The charm effect for small-town America was off the charts.
A giant artificial tree had been erected in the town square the week after Thanksgiving. Hunt and I had gone to the lighting ceremony, holding hands and sipping hot chocolate with the other revelers. A few folks made a point to let me know they hadn’t seen Hunt at any of the town’s functions in quite a while. I knew it’d been two years, to be exact. Everything about Hunter Copeland was before two years ago, and then the Hunter Copeland ever since.
Hunter was reserved with his feelings concerning the upcoming holiday every time I brought the occasion up. If I’d thought that he was finally warming up to the idea of Christmas because we went to the tree lighting, I was wrong. It’d been two weeks since I walked out of his house because he couldn’t imagine having a Christmas tree in it. He hadn’t called. I hadn’t called.
But Jill had called. Several times, in fact. And tonight, I was walking to the diner after business hours to speak with her. I could’ve driven considering the temperatures were below freezing, but I liked walks in the snow.
What Jill wanted to discuss was no secret. Her concerns and worries were shared by most people in town that knew about Hunt and me. Small towns were like that. Some would say nosy, but I had a kinder viewpoint. They simply cared.
Businesses were closed along the street, even Smitty’s, since it was a weekday after nine PM. Wind blew small drifts of snow up Main Street, piling around the wheels of the few trucks parked in town. The night was quiet and eerie as I made my way to Jill’s Diner. The silence enveloped me as I huddled tightly into my parka, my nose feeling icy.
