M Sellars - Perfect Trust

I made it a point to ask myself this question aloud. But even though I was able to do that and not simply assume I was fine, the resulting uncertainty in my answer wasn’t terribly comforting.

The offices of Metro Counseling were located just on the outskirts of downtown Claymont, only a few miles from my home in Briarwood. Still, it took me longer to get there than it really should have due to my two semi-aborted stops to purchase cigarettes. The first time I hadn’t even climbed out of the truck. I’d simply sat there for several minutes, arguing with a sudden attack of will power, before eventually backing out of the parking space and starting once again on my way to the appointment. But on the second stop I had actually gone in to a small convenience store, and purchased a pack from the cashier, then tossed them unopened into the trash outside before heading out again. Earlier in the day, I’d even considered lighting up a cigar from my humidor, but I’d been doing my best to avoid them of late. I knew if I had one in my hand I’d inhale it, and that was the last thing I needed to start doing.

Obviously, this craving had increased disproportionately over the past twenty-four-hour period, and the nicotine gum simply wasn’t doing its job any longer. At the moment, I had two fresh pieces stuffed simultaneously into my cheek and was considering a third, even though I was fairly certain that doing so could make me dangerously ill.

Just as I was about to throw that particular caution into the trash and reach for another dose of the gum, without warning the pains of the urge were temporarily replaced by, of all things, a woman. I had just swung into a parking space and was switching off the engine of my truck when I noticed her. She was petite. Dressed in a long skirt and boots. A leather jacket hugged her torso from the waist up, and her shoulder-length blonde hair was flying on a cold breeze. She had a milky complexion and her face bore a tasteful amount of makeup.

After a moment, I caught myself literally ogling her as she walked across the parking lot from her car and then disappeared through the glass doors at the entrance of the building.

I physically shuddered as I shook off the stare. Two specific thoughts were pin wheeling around inside my head taking turns at the forefront as they bounced.

The first was that I hoped she hadn’t noticed my rude gaze. But even if she had, at worst I would simply be embarrassed.

The second, however, was a bit troubling and, in a sense, even mildly disturbing.

For some reason I seemed to be trying very hard to imagine what she would look like if she had long red hair.

“It is a terrible habit,” Doctor Helen Storm said aloud and then took a drag from a cigarette. “I really should quit, but I enjoy it far too much.”

I had arrived early for the appointment, as was my nature in all things involving a scheduled time. We had actually met at the door as I was on my way in and she was on her way out. She’d been hoping to grab a quick smoke break. To her credit, she had started to put the cigarettes away and take off her coat, but I insisted that she go ahead and indulge the addiction. Instead of having me wait alone, she had invited me to walk outside with her. We were now standing at the railing of an outdoor lounge that occupied an architecturally truncated corner of the seventh floor of the building. The air was chilly but it had calmed, and with the late morning sun to dull the bite, the crispness was for the most part pleasant.

“I know what you mean,” I replied, mentally beating down the desire to bum one from her as I shifted a half step away from the enticing smoke.

“I am so sorry, is the smoke bothering you?” she asked, noticing my obvious move and shifting away herself.

“Yes and no,” I shrugged. “I quit a couple of years ago, but for some reason I’ve been having some pretty horrendous cravings lately.”

“I apologize, Rowan. I should have asked before I invited you out here with me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I shook my head and waved her off before she could extinguish the cigarette. “I’m fine.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.”

“So why do you think you have been craving cigarettes?”

“Dunno.” I shrugged. “Stress I suppose. Aren’t you supposed to be the one telling me why I’m all screwed up?”

Helen Storm regarded me with mysteriously dark eyes that were a mirror image of her brother’s. She bore an unmistakable family resemblance to Ben, but with a far softer edge to her features. Her pretty face was framed by shiny black hair that fell across her shoulders and was interspersed with strands of grey. My friend had once told me that she was a handful of years older than him, but the streaks in her hair were the only telltale sign of that fact. The one physical attribute that came into severe contrast with her sibling was her size, she being almost a foot shorter than he.

“You do not have a very high opinion of psychiatrists, do you, Rowan?” she asked after a moment.

“It’s not really that,” I answered, somewhat embarrassed that I was broadcasting my distaste for the situation so clearly. I thought I’d be able to maintain at least some amount of control, but quite obviously I had not. “I’m just not entirely sure that I need one.”

“You might not,” she answered easily.

I paused, slightly taken aback. “Well, I have to admit, that’s not exactly what I was expecting you to say.”

“I got that impression.”

“I’m sorry.” I apologized for my challenge. “That was pretty rude of me, wasn’t it?”

“Not really.” She shook her head and smiled. “You are simply voicing your anxiety.”

“I suppose you’ve dealt with worse.”

“Were I at liberty to do so, I could tell a few stories,” she chuckled.

“Okay, so now that we have the awkward moment out of the way, I guess I can assume Ben has filled you in on some things?” I posed the question without accusation.

“Yes. Some.” She nodded. “I will not lie to you. Benjamin and I have talked at length about your situation. I have even spoken with your wife.”

“The conspiracy grows,” I remarked flatly.

“That is one way to view it,” she returned. “Or you could look at the other side and see it as some people who care very deeply for you and are trying to help.”

“You’re right. That comment was unfair.”

“Fairness is somewhat subjective. It is all a matter of the individual perception.”

“So it’s okay for me to perceive that my wife and best friend have conspired against me? I thought that was considered paranoia.”

“It is perfectly natural to feel a sense of betrayal when a loved one disagrees with you on something such as this,” she explained. “But healthy individuals will reason it out and understand that they are not being betrayed at all. It would only be paranoia if you took it to the extreme.”

“So you don’t think I’ve taken it to the extreme?”

“Seriously, at this juncture, no I do not.” She took a drag from her cigarette and made it a point to exhale the smoke downwind before bringing her penetrating gaze back to my face. “To begin with, you are here and obviously no one is forcibly escorting you. Secondly, you are not visibly angry. Maybe a bit apprehensive… Some confusion… Yes, I can sense some definite confusion… But I do not really detect any fear. If anything, you are somewhat curious about what I think about everything I have been told thus far. All in all, I would have to say you are probably a perfectly rational human being. Of course, we have only been talking for a few minutes now. So I suppose I should reserve me judgment.”