After dinner, the parents put the kids to sleep in their rooms, which used to be our bedrooms, and we play a card game of Shang Hai Rum in the basement with the televisions hooked up to baby room monitors. Granny taught us all how to play so it’s somewhat of a family tradition and requires concentration so there’s no talk of dropping passes or football of any kind.
Or Annika.
NINE
ANNIKA
“Jenna?” My voice sounds normal. Calm. Controlled.
How? I have no idea.
Years of training my brain to make myself sound calm, and controlled, even when the rest of my body is not.
Jenna looks up from her monitor, fingers still hovering over the keyboard. Morning light hits a glass bowl of mints and the colors ricochet like a prism. Her eyes narrow. Receptionists are the heartbeat of an office and develop a sixth sense for people’s moods. And Jenna’s radar is annoyingly accurate.
“You look like someone stole your Caramel macchiato with two extra pumps of caramel and extra whipped cream.”
I shove my hands into the pockets of my lab coat to keep from throwing my pen at her. Why does she always know when I’m upset?
“Please reschedule Mr. O’Ryan and whoever else has an appointment this afternoon.”
Jenna blinks once. Then again and the clicking of her keyboard stops.
“Why?” she asks.
“Just move it.” My tone comes out stern.
“Should I be concerned?”
“No. Of course not.” I say, inhaling through my nose, using the same technique I teach my athletes. Right now, I’m the one who needs to control my breathing and stop the spiral. “Just tell them we need to move the appt. I’ll stay later or come in earlier if needed all week.”
“I’ll schedule the famous wide receiver for after hours,” she winks.
She keeps her sight line directly on me, hoping to get a reaction and she does. “Jenna, just do what I ask. Whatever the patients need since I’m the one canceling.”
Some people assume that shrinks and counselors are the only ones who study behavior, but it comes naturally to some, and Jenna is one of the most perceptive people I’ve ever known.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Anything I can do for you?” she asks, offering me a butterscotch candy.
My phone vibrates in my coat pocket.
The same phone number.
International. A country code I haven’t seen for years until today.
Novadia.
My stomach tightens.
I only listened to the first part of the voicemail earlier and that was enough.
A male voice. Formal. Careful.
The first two words: Your father…
I hung up before I heard the reason he was calling. My instinct was to protect myself.
My ghosts follow me.I force a professional smile. “I’m perfect. Don’t worry. Just need some time to myself.”