off the engine and sits there a second, his hands on the wheel. “Don’t worry about me,” I say. “I brought a book.” Hank doesn’t move. Instead he glances over and studies me again. “I thought this was a life-coaching emergency,” I say, hoping this will get him to stop staring. “She could be losing precious ounces of self-esteem with every second you delay. Better hurry up, Doctor, before it’s too late.”
Hank half smirks, sighs and finally gets out. After he closes the door, he leans in the window. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Or less.”
“Gotcha.” I tap the time on my cell. “On your mark, get set, go.” Another smirk, a full one this time, then he heads up the center walk into the complex. I watch and wait, although if this world-shattering therapy session is only going to take twenty minutes, I can’t wait too long. Once he’s out of sight, I get out of the car and look around. There’s a narrow lane along one side of the complex, so I decide to try that.
Moving from apartment to apartment, I peer intokitchens and dens, but most are dark. A TV’s on in one den, but there’s just an old guy inside, watching a fishing show.
“Andrea, what did I tell you—”
“I’ve tried, Dr. Hank. I have.”
I follow the voices around to the back of the building, to a door with a spiky cactus plant in front of it, next to a recycling bin filled with cat-food tins and empty bottles of Wellness Tea. Through the slatted window beside the door, I can see a tiny bathroom cluttered with candles. A shower curtain covered in cartoon cats hangs over the tub, and inspirational messages cut out of magazines are taped to the mirror.
The bathroom door is open to the room beyond, where Hank paces back and forth, in and out of sight. A woman crosses in front of him. Andrea, I guess. “I know I’m supposed to do it on my own,” she says. “But I can’t even do my hair without a disaster.” She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and polka-dotted sweatpants. Half of her ashy blond hair hangs straight, and the other half is screwed up in crazy, tiny curls.
“You give up too easily, Andrea. You don’t try.”
“I do!”
I need a better view. The path continues around to the center walk, and I enter the courtyard from the back. Andrea’s front window is half hidden by bushy vines with little white flowers that give off the same perfumey scent I smelled last night and a bunch of freaky-looking plantswith big leaves and blooms shaped like pointy-tufted birds. I wade into the flock but keep my head ducked down.
Inside Andrea’s apartment, it’s all big pillows and scarves draped over lamps and tables, and there’s a cat peering out from under the couch. In the middle of the room stand Hank and Andrea. Andrea’s bouncing up and down on her toes like an ecstatic kindergartner. “Oh, thank you, Dr. Hank!” Damn. I definitely missed something.
“One more night, Andrea,” Hank warns. “That’s all.”
One more night of what? I wonder. Hank pulls a pen out of his pocket. Is he going to write her a prescription or something? Is this his secret? He’s actually a drug dealer?
Instead of writing anything down, he backs up a few steps. I can’t see the pen, but he lifts his arm and it looks like he’s pointing it at her. There’s a spark of light from somewhere and I assume it’s the reflection of the sun. I glance over my shoulder, but the sun’s already dropped behind the other side of the building, leaving just a pale pink sky. Huh. That’s weird.
When I turn back, Andrea’s gone.
No, not gone, but … turned into somebody else. It’s her, but totally different, like she’s been put through some sort of beautifying car wash. Her hair is swept up in a French twist and she’s now wearing a shiny sapphire blue microminidress and matching blue kitten heels. Her eyes seem brighter and I think she may even be taller. She dashes to a mirror and squeals in delight. “Oh, Dr. Hank! This is
Hank half smirks, sighs and finally gets out. After he closes the door, he leans in the window. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Or less.”
“Gotcha.” I tap the time on my cell. “On your mark, get set, go.” Another smirk, a full one this time, then he heads up the center walk into the complex. I watch and wait, although if this world-shattering therapy session is only going to take twenty minutes, I can’t wait too long. Once he’s out of sight, I get out of the car and look around. There’s a narrow lane along one side of the complex, so I decide to try that.
Moving from apartment to apartment, I peer intokitchens and dens, but most are dark. A TV’s on in one den, but there’s just an old guy inside, watching a fishing show.
“Andrea, what did I tell you—”
“I’ve tried, Dr. Hank. I have.”
I follow the voices around to the back of the building, to a door with a spiky cactus plant in front of it, next to a recycling bin filled with cat-food tins and empty bottles of Wellness Tea. Through the slatted window beside the door, I can see a tiny bathroom cluttered with candles. A shower curtain covered in cartoon cats hangs over the tub, and inspirational messages cut out of magazines are taped to the mirror.
The bathroom door is open to the room beyond, where Hank paces back and forth, in and out of sight. A woman crosses in front of him. Andrea, I guess. “I know I’m supposed to do it on my own,” she says. “But I can’t even do my hair without a disaster.” She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and polka-dotted sweatpants. Half of her ashy blond hair hangs straight, and the other half is screwed up in crazy, tiny curls.
“You give up too easily, Andrea. You don’t try.”
“I do!”
I need a better view. The path continues around to the center walk, and I enter the courtyard from the back. Andrea’s front window is half hidden by bushy vines with little white flowers that give off the same perfumey scent I smelled last night and a bunch of freaky-looking plantswith big leaves and blooms shaped like pointy-tufted birds. I wade into the flock but keep my head ducked down.
Inside Andrea’s apartment, it’s all big pillows and scarves draped over lamps and tables, and there’s a cat peering out from under the couch. In the middle of the room stand Hank and Andrea. Andrea’s bouncing up and down on her toes like an ecstatic kindergartner. “Oh, thank you, Dr. Hank!” Damn. I definitely missed something.
“One more night, Andrea,” Hank warns. “That’s all.”
One more night of what? I wonder. Hank pulls a pen out of his pocket. Is he going to write her a prescription or something? Is this his secret? He’s actually a drug dealer?
Instead of writing anything down, he backs up a few steps. I can’t see the pen, but he lifts his arm and it looks like he’s pointing it at her. There’s a spark of light from somewhere and I assume it’s the reflection of the sun. I glance over my shoulder, but the sun’s already dropped behind the other side of the building, leaving just a pale pink sky. Huh. That’s weird.
When I turn back, Andrea’s gone.
No, not gone, but … turned into somebody else. It’s her, but totally different, like she’s been put through some sort of beautifying car wash. Her hair is swept up in a French twist and she’s now wearing a shiny sapphire blue microminidress and matching blue kitten heels. Her eyes seem brighter and I think she may even be taller. She dashes to a mirror and squeals in delight. “Oh, Dr. Hank! This is
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