Dawn of Eve, MJ Howson [lightweight ebook reader TXT] 📗

word she spoke. “Look at you with your ratty coat and rusted carriage. Maybe if you spent less money feeding your fat kid, you’d be able to afford nicer clothes!”

“What?” The woman looked around at the stares from the people who had slowed to listen in on the conversation. “I was right. You are crazy!”

The woman hurried off, weaving past people as she tried to get as far away as she could.

Dawn smiled, ignoring the people watching her. She leaned into the carriage and tucked the blanket tighter around Eve. The doll’s eyes slowly closed. Dawn brushed her fingers against Eve’s hair, straightened the doll’s bow, and said, “What a rude woman.”

Dawn adjusted her scarf and sunglasses, grabbed the stroller’s handlebar, and continued north toward Hudson Yards. She held her head high, happy she’d gotten the courage to speak up and defend Eve.

“I hope the line’s not long at Mercado Little Spain, Eve,” Dawn said. “I need to get you home and then to my therapy session.”

“Take me with you.”

“Take you?” Dawn tried to picture herself bursting into the doctor’s office with Eve in tow. “No. Not yet. I . . . I feel like the doctor doesn’t want you there. But soon.”

∞∞∞

Dr. Cole scratched his beard as he reviewed his notes. His session with Dawn was almost over. The top of his notepad read Easton-D 10/18/19 #10. Dr. Cole frowned as he went through the topics he’d intended to cover, realizing they’d gone off on far too many tangents once again. After ten sessions, he felt progress was still too slow. Although Dawn showed some improvement, they’d yet to get to the root cause of her desire for not just a child but a child with Jacob. The ticking wall clock seemed louder than normal this morning, making it difficult for him to concentrate. Suddenly, the radiator beneath the window began to clank as it filled with steam.

“I’d like to shift gears and talk a bit about your father,” Dr. Cole said. “Would that be okay?”

“Why?” Dawn asked as she glanced at her watch. “The session’s almost over.”

“You said your father had a bad accident, and his death is what sent your mother to focus on her business and not you. You’ve avoided discussing the details of his accident with me. I’d like to better understand what happened.”

“He fell.”

Dr. Cole glanced at his notepad and then at the whirring Panasonic recorder. He said, “It must have been a bad fall to kill him.”

“He . . . fell from . . . from the terrace.”

“Terrace?” Dr. Cole leaned back in his chair. “How. . . how high was it?”

“We were living on the thirtieth floor. The penthouse.”

Dr. Cole sighed and lowered his head, staring at a folder with prior session notes. He moistened his index finger and then flipped through the pages. He asked, “Why didn’t you reveal this earlier?”

“If I’d told you he committed suicide, you would–”

“Suicide? Dawn, my God, why on earth–”

“See! You’re about to judge me. I’m not the least bit suicidal. I’ve told you that before.”

“There’s no need to get defensive.” Dr. Cole leaned back in his chair, the springs groaning in protest. He waited for his state of shock to subside. “How a parent dies makes a difference, especially if it involved suicide.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t see how it matters. It wasn’t like I was a child or anything. I was twenty-two.” Dawn fidgeted in her chair, nervously twisting her watch and twirling her scarf through her fingers. “My mom couldn’t deal with the aftermath. She became so distant. It . . . it drove her away.”

Dr. Cole scratched his beard and scanned through his notes. When done reviewing them, he said, “You told me your mother became distant because she got lost in running the company.”

“What?”

“You said after your dad died, she threw herself into her work.”

“I did?” Dawn’s eyes searched the room before settling on her clutched fingers. “Well, yes. At first. But she couldn’t run the company. The board eventually took control away from her. A bunch of greedy old men if you want to know the truth.”

“I see.” Dr. Cole glanced at his notes and then the clock on the wall. “Where’s your mother today?”

“She went away. Like I’ve told you before, we haven’t spoken in forever.”

“Haven’t spoken?” Dr. Cole flipped through his notes. “You told me your mother was your hero. But now you say she became distant and went away. Where did she go?”

“Just away. To be with . . . friends. She . . . she had to get out of the city. We’d moved to a different building after my dad’s death. She couldn’t look at that terrace without thinking of him.”

“And you never speak with her?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“You’d have to ask her.” Dawn looked at her watch and sighed. “Time’s up.”

“For now.” Dr. Cole presented a supportive smile. “But I’m going to want to discuss this in more detail next time.”

“Sure.” Dawn stood up and grabbed her coat.

“Dawn, before you go, I want to confirm you’re still taking your medication.”

“Yes, why?”

“They’re an important part of your treatment.”

“I take them every night.”

“What about your dreams? The nightmare where you chased your daughter down the hallway. Those haven’t returned, have they? The voices?”

“Not since I got Eve. I told you, I’ve been sleeping wonderfully.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I just wanted to be sure.”

Dr. Cole turned off the recorder. The old Panasonic unit shuddered as the motor disengaged. His desk suddenly vibrated. The buzz from his cellphone in the top drawer caused the Trust plaque to resonate loudly.

“That’s very annoying,” Dawn said.

“I’m sorry. The phone’s old and rather beat up. The vibrate function is broken.”

“Give it to me. I can show–”

“No. That’s not necessary.”

Dawn stood beside the desk, looking down at Dr. Cole. His stomach was pressed against the top drawer, and his arms covered his notepad.

“I guess I’ll see you next week,” Dawn said.

“See you then. Please confirm the appointment with my wife.”

Dawn nodded, turned, and left the office, closing