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

she found Jacob and Dr. Cole sitting on the bleachers overlooking 10th Avenue. She recalled the laughter, followed by the lies and denials to her face. Dawn stopped rocking and looked down at the doll. “How, Eve? How should we punish them?”

Thirty Five

Camp

Dr. Cole opened the middle drawer of a steel gray file cabinet at the back of his office. Each patient had a folder with his handwritten notes, organized by session date. A second cabinet contained Dawn’s session recordings Dr. Cole intended to use to write his book. Dawn was one of five people he’d been documenting. Flo came in once a week to double-check everything was alphabetized correctly for him. Dr. Cole also maintained electronic copies of his files, but he loved having the originals. He’d used this filing system since he first opened his practice, and it had served him well these past decades.

Flo, busy in the front office, typed fluidly at her computer. The hissing radiators beneath the window did their best to warm both rooms. A ringing phone caused Dr. Cole to glance through the open door into the waiting room. He watched Flo answer the call and then returned to his filing system to prep for his next appointment, doing his best to ignore the chatter.

Dr. Cole removed a folder marked Easton-D 2019+ from the file cabinet and placed it on his desk. Transcripts from Dawn’s thirteen sessions filled the packet. He sat in his chair and flipped to the end with his notes from last week’s meeting. He then dragged a blank yellow-lined notepad closer and jotted Easton-D 12/20/19 #14 on the top line. As he finished writing, Flo knocked on his door. Dr. Cole glanced up and asked, “Yes?”

“Don’t bother prepping,” Flo said. “She just canceled.”

“Dawn?”

“Mm-hmmm.”

Dr. Cole shook his head and sighed. He tossed his glasses onto his notepad, looked across the room at Flo, and asked, “Did she give a reason?”

“She said she’s done.”

“Done?”

“With therapy. She said she doesn’t need you anymore.”

“What?” Dr. Cole stood up, somewhat stunned, and walked to his office door to be beside Flo. Luna scampered between them and began rubbing against his legs. “She can’t.”

“She did.”

“Call her back. I need to speak with her.”

Flo shook her head and walked back to her desk in the waiting room, leaving her husband standing in the doorway. Luna followed her and jumped onto the desk. Flo sat down and said, “She told me that . . . .” Flo picked up a yellow sticky resting beside her phone. “Hold on.” Luna quickly tried to swat the paper away. Dr. Cole slowly approached her desk, still shocked by the news. Flo looked at the note and said, “She said she knows about your meeting at the 10th Ave overpass.”

“10th Avenue?”

“The one on the High Line, Winston. With the sunken bleachers.”

Dr. Cole stopped and took a few steps back. He placed his hand on his chest as his heart seemed to freeze momentarily. Taylor, he said to himself. His mind immediately became flooded with questions. How could Dawn know about his meeting with Taylor? Does she know him? Was she there? He struggled to clear his thoughts as his brow filled with beads of sweat. The entire time, Flo’s big brown eyes remained fixated on him, never blinking. Another thought formed. What else was on that note?

“That’s not all,” Flo said. Luna, now on her lap, purred as she enjoyed a much-needed ear massage. “She also said you were a liar. Started ranting about trust and bad men.”

“Is . . . is all of that on your note?”

“No.” Flo held up the yellow sticky so he could see it. “All I wrote was the location. She sounded kind of hysterical to me. Pissed off about her boyfriend Jacob, too. I figured you’d know what she meant about 10th Ave.”

Dr. Cole’s eyes darted between his wife and the note in her hand. The blank look on her face told him there was nothing more to the story and that she had no knowledge of what happened with Taylor at the bleachers. He took a deep breath and said, “I have no idea.” Dr. Cole ran his fingernails through his beard, trying to ignore that he just lied to his wife and was about to lie again. “I’ve stopped there for coffee now and then. If I remember, she told me she likes to walk the High Line in the mornings. Maybe . . . maybe she saw me?”

“Did you stop there recently?”

Dr. Cole shrugged and glanced out the window. He did his best to present a sense of indifference, but inside, his heart pounded against his chest like a caged animal.

“She said something about a secret meeting,” Flo said.

“Secret?”

The air surrounding Dr. Cole suddenly plunged twenty degrees. He wanted to drop to his knees and confess everything. The walls collapsed, and the office shrank. Guilt and anguish wrapped around him like a lead blanket, causing his knees to weaken.

“Are you okay?” Flo asked.

“I’m . . . I’m just confused.” Dr. Cole lowered his head as he tried to think of what to say. Deep down, he knew he could never tell her the truth. His heart sank as he conjured up an explanation. He cleared his throat and said, “Now I remember. The day I went grocery shopping. I’d taken a stroll on the High Line. Some tourist was asking me for directions.”

“Tourist?” Flo frowned and crossed her arms. She arched her eyebrow and asked, “Was she pretty?”

“Not as pretty as you.”

“Good answer.”

Flo’s smile brought the doctor a huge sense of relief. He said, “But I don’t remember seeing Dawn anywhere.”

“Why would she get so upset that she’d cancel?”

“The tourist, um, sort of gave me a hug.”

“Mm-hmmm.”

“It was all completely innocent, Flo. Nothing–”

“I know I can trust you.”

Flo’s smile and words hit him like a gut punch, knocking the air from his lungs. Dr. Cole took a deep breath and said, “Look, Flo, Dawn’s not well. She–”

“Oh,