Talk To Me

11-I || Doctor-Patient-Intruder Confidentiality

"I say, don't you know! You say, you don't know! I say...take me out!"

I hit the power button on my Bluetooth speaker, reluctantly cutting off Alex Kapranos. Gulping down the last of my orange juice and setting the glass on the table, I went over to grab my coat. I could take it easy today, nothing was on the A.A.A (Assassinate Adrian Agenda, nice, right?). It was almost upsetting, the restlessness of having nothing to do. The thrill of doing nothing but heroin for a stretch and having to go off it for one day.

Bad metaphor, yes, but honestly, heroin's a better addiction. I better not get addicted to this, this—thing, that I was doing. I better not find myself wanting to pull another A.A.A.

But. You never know. You say you won't do it again, but then...

Muahahahahahahaha.

Ha.

Shrugging on my coat, I stepped outside, closing my door behind me just when the neighboring one opened.

Out stepped Tallulah, looking simply radiant in a cashmere sweater and jeans, a satchel strapped over her shoulder, holding a transparent lidded cup full of a pink smoothie, slurping it with a straw. Her hair shimmered around her perfect face falling in two perfect waves and I envied and admired her at the same time. "Hey, Harper!" she trilled. "Good morning!"

"Right back at you," I said, smiling. "Where are you off to?"

"My therapy session," she replied, with a small smile. "Got to go catch a cab, can't be late."

"Wait, cab?" I repeated. "What about your own car?"

"Oh, I can't, see, Tasha took our car early this morning, she and a few others at her firm are going on this lecture circuit around town. And Jared's car is apparently in service, gosh, he got a nasty dent in the side, I always tell him he has to drive more slowly and be careful in reversing out of a tight spot—"

"Listen," I cut in. I had to; I would've snored right there on the spot if she'd continued babbling. "Want me to give you a ride?"

Her blue eyes widened, I almost felt hypnotized into stretching my offer to becoming her personal chauffeur. "Oh, I can't ask you that—"

"No really, it's no trouble." And it wasn't, because like I said, I could take it easy, I could give Tallulah Gonzales a ride to therapy. Enduring a whole car ride with her might end up making me want therapy, but hey, she could recommend me one. "I was just thinking of going to check out the bookstore maybe..."

"Oh! My therapist's office is right on the way to Callaghan's bookstore!" exclaimed Tallulah. How could her childlike enthusiasm repulse me and also make me feel sorry for her at the same time?

"There you go," I said, smiling and walking over to the elevator.

"Gosh, thanks again," said Tallulah, as she got into the front passenger seat. I started reversing out of the lot, my gaze trained on the rearview mirror as Tallulah continued her monologue, sipping away at her smoothie. Maybe it was strawberries, sweet, like her. "My first therapy session, of course, I went with both Jared and Tasha, needed the support, you know, 'cause I was crazy nervous. But after Dr. Sandhurst turned out to be really amazing, I found out there was no reason to freak out, because he really made me feel at home."

"That's great," I said, driving out onto the road. I hoped I didn't sound fake but it was fine. 

People like Tallulah didn't believe it was possible for someone to sound fake. They believed all praise was genuine praise, all smiles were sweet smiles, all prayers were answered, all wishes were granted. "Okay, left or right turn?"