The Ann Dawson Case

PART 6 - Patricia/Nate

Driving home from the supermarket, I noticed I was low on gas. I stopped at the gas station, dreading spending the earnings from my last therapy session on fuel. A minivan pulled up, and none other than Patricia Masters got out. In her khaki shorts, Patricia was as reclusive as a soccer mom could get; after her husband's death a year prior, she was barely sighted out of her house. She only left it to chauffeur her two kids to soccer.

Wasn't she also best friends with Linda Turner at some point? If I remember correctly, they were in the same grade in high school together.

"Hi, Patricia! I haven't seen you in while, how have you been?" I asked, conversationally, as we were pumping gas into our cars from adjacent pumps.

"Honestly, not too well," she said, propping her sunglasses higher on her nose.

"I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't know; I'm just going through some things," she said, embarrassed. Then as an afterthought, she whispered nervously, "Ann Dawson is-". She stopped, shaking her head, pushing her sunglasses into her nose again. How bizarre.

"Well, I know we don't talk much, but I'm here for you if you ever need to talk. Here's my card; the first few sessions are on me," I told her, handing her one of my business cards from my purse. It sounded like she needed a session. Urgently.

She gratefully accepted it, opened her mouth like she was about to say something, and noticing her tank to be full, she hastily bid me farewell and got back into her minivan. What an odd character. I truly felt sorry for her though; it must be hard being a widow at forty.

I drove home, excited to eat my ice cream. I hummed the whole way back. I should be busier, but business was slow; I should start reaching out to the people affected by Ann's murder. Wouldn't they need therapy after such a traumatic experience?

I got to my front door and unlocked it. I put away the few grocery items I had before I heard a knock on the door. Weird, I wasn't expecting anybody. I looked through the peephole. I didn't know Nate was coming around.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, opening the door.

"That was not the greeting I was expecting," he said, faking sadness.

"Come in, babe, I just wasn't expecting you. I was about to start a movie; do you want to join? I have strawberry ice cream!" I told him, excitedly. It was so sweet of him to show up. I really loved him.

"I can't stay long, I just wanted to drop off your earring. It must have fallen into my pants or something," he said, dropping my missing purple stud into my hand.

"You don't want to stay for anything? You came all this way just to give me an earring?" I asked, incredulous.

"Well, it was an excuse to see you," he smiled sheepishly, "and it was well-worth it."

"That's cute. Are you sure you don't want anything?" I asked with a suggestive wink, but I was really just offering strawberry ice cream and a movie.

"Well now that you mention it, there is something you can do for me," he said nervously. He's so cute. I love his smile when he's nervous. I smile encouragingly back.

"When Carla comes into your office next, can you tell her that her husband isn't cheating on her?" he asked, still playing with his fingers nervously.

"Templeton?" I asked, just making sure. He gave me a look that said, 'obviously'.

"Okay, yeah sure. Why?" I asked, wondering.

He kissed me, cutting me off, and I forgot what I was saying. I'm not sure how much time passed; that was the thing with Nate: nothing mattered. Our complicated relationship didn't matter because in the moment, we were perfect.

"What was that for?" I giggled. He made me feel like a crazy-in-love teenager. Poor Ann. I knew she felt this way about her boyfriend; she told me in our sessions how mad she felt for the mystery guy. Ann, wherever you are, I'm glad you got to experience a love like this.

"You scrunched up your nose; it was cute," he explained, kissing it, "I should get going. I just wanted to return your earring." He straightened himself up and left towards the door.

"When am I seeing you next?" I asked, aware of his limited availability.

"Next time I'm 'working late'. I'll text you, okay babe?" he kissed my cheek and closed the door. I loved Nate so much. I'd do anything to keep him.

A/N: OKAY so what do you guys think about Patricia? Now, have your feelings changed about Nate? Do you like the narrator?