The Ann Dawson Case

PART 7 Patricia/Andrew

My work phone rang as I was enjoying some 'me' time on the couch. I paused the movie, put down my spoon, and answered in my normal psychiatrist introduction.

"Hi it's Patty. Patricia Masters, I mean. You mentioned a session with a reduced fee; is that offer still available?" I heard the timid squeak of Patricia on the other end.

"Hi Patty! I meant it when I said the first few sessions are on me. What time and day works for you to come to my office? If you want something less formal, we can always just have lunch some day," I suggested.

"I would rather come to your office. It'll feel more confidential. Would you actually happen to be free today or tomorrow? I'm sorry, but it's been weighing me down, and I feel like it's urgent," she asked. I pulled out my calendar. I had Carla coming tomorrow, on Sunday night, but otherwise, I was free.

"I have any time after 5 today," I said, glancing at my melting ice cream and my watch. Actually, I wasn't doing anything for the next two hours either, but I felt like I had to buff up my schedule, "and I'm mostly available tomorrow."

"Great, does 6 work tonight? I have to drop off my kids at soccer," Patricia asked.

"I'll see you 6PM today for a complimentary therapy session," I confirmed.

"Thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it," Patty said, gratefully.

"It's really my pleasure." We said our goodbyes. However unprofessional it might have been, I was excited to hear what she had to say. It sounded like she had dirt on the Ann Dawson case, and I was curious.

My phone rang again, but my other cell phone this time. For personal calls. Andrew's caller ID flashed on my screen. Should I let it go to voice-mail? I had a strong urge to ignore it, but I picked it up anyway.

"Hey Andrew, how are you?" I greeted, trying to sound peppy.

"Good. I'm calling to see about tomorrow," he sounded strained. It was odd how he was being so forward and abrupt.

"Yes?" I asked, not sure what he was getting at. I knew he was asking me out, but he was being pretty unclear.

"Would you like to do something?" he asked, sounding pained again. Maybe he just had phone anxiety; it was very common.

"Yeah sure; Saturday's my day off, so I'm free all day," I told him, waiting to return to my ice cream.

"Do you want to go to a museum or something? Is that lame? I'm not sure," Andrew asked quickly. Oh, so he was nervous. That's probably why he was acting so weird.

"Yes! I'd love to go with you. Pick me up at two?" I asked.

I wasn't actually that eager to see him again, especially after the uneasy feeling I got around him last time, but I felt like it was my duty to solve why he made me so uncomfortable. Also, I had to do something tomorrow besides eating ice cream and waiting for Nate to stop by out of the blue.

"I'm looking forward to our date," he said, hanging up. The whole interaction was bizarre. Something about him really put me at unease. I couldn't wait to find out what it was.

I was gung-ho about adventure; I craved excitement. In this boring town, there wasn't much of that. Nate was exciting: he was fun and dangerous. I had to stop thinking about him. I resumed my 'me' time on the couch. An hour later, I realized I had to get ready for the meeting with Patricia.