May I: Sweet Relief

He didn’t expect her to pick up, but had called her regardless. For the most part, he was worried about whether she was okay or not. The way he had seen her the other night, could very well be in her future again.

The key that he had taken from his pocket had been something that Gillian gave to him—in case of any emergencies, he could get into her house. He had almost forgotten about it and had promised not to use it unless it was just that. Now he was sitting in front of her house, trying to decide if this moment could be counted as an emergency. It took him a matter of seconds, before he realized that it was.

In the back of his mind, he knew that he had already gone too far. If he went any further after this point, she might push him away—and even he had to respect that if he wanted to keep her as his best friend.

As he walked into the silence of the house, he sensed that the nightmares that she was having, were something that she didn’t want him seeing. But he couldn’t help but feeling something could happen now.

“Foster—you here?”

Looking around the room: he saw the blanket still on the floor, the thermometer that he had he swore he had taken her temperature with a dozen times to make sure that she was okay—before finally dozing off in the chair from her sleeping form—and the still mostly full glass of water that he had tried to get her to drink.

He looked in the kitchen and found it empty. It had been the same way he had seen it yesterday—untouched. Down the hall and he found her bed made up, with the hospital bag lying on the bed. Nodding, he found exactly what he had been looking for: something that showed that she had made it home.

There was still a quizzical look in his eye as he caught hold of the top drawer; slightly ajar from a hasty exit. He tried to think of all the places that she would go, but came up with nothing. He left her house, feeling quite irritated. Even more so when he had walked back into the office.

“Are they here yet?” He asked Ria, looking around as she had just hung up on her cell phone. Blowing past her, he went into the lab to find Eli sitting with his back to them, tapping a pencil on the desk.

“They’re all here.”  Ria answered his question as she walked in behind him. “And they are not happy.” Tapping a button on the computer, the box shield faltered—revealing the wife, husband and the mistress all together.

The wife was pacing back and forth, looking quite agitated and miserable. Her brown curls bounced every time she moved.  While her husband was the only one that sitting at the table, he looked tight and uncomfortable. The mistress on the other hand was standing in the corner—tears in her eyes, staring off like she had gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar.

That was all Cal needed to see before heading into the box. “You need me on this one?” Ria inquired, stepping forward. When he didn’t say anything, she dropped into a chair beside Loker as they watched him walk into the box.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting.” Walking in swiftly, Cal closed and locked the blue door behind him. Although, he didn’t really sound that sincere—more like he was just doing his job.

“My wife and I were about to go to my nephew’s soccer game. What is this all about?”

“Right there.” Pointing between his eyebrows and eyes, Cal continued. “That’s what we call fake anger.”

“I’m not angry.”

Cal tilted his head to the side. “No . . . more like you’re ashamed.” Eyes flickering over to the wife, he inquired. “Does your wife know?” Turning around, the wife was rubbing her belly in circles. Lifting his eyes in recognition, he nodded as he read her expression. “How long have you known that your husband was having an affair? A month? A few weeks ago?” His eyes lifted again in confirmation. “A few weeks.”

The man turned to his wife, desperation creeping into his voice. “I was going to tell you.”

“I didn’t want to believe it.” She told Cal, totally avoiding her husband’s gaze. Her arms were folded and she looked like she wanted to explode. “We’ve been married for ten years! We were supposed to have kids and have a happy life together. Then I found a hotel receipt in his pocket when I was trying to find his keys to the car one day.”

Stepping forward, Cal dug deeper. “Sounds like it wasn’t just for the business, was it Jacob? Did you leave because Brent and Frank found out about your affair?” 

“I left because it wasn’t like what I expected it to be. We went into a business as friends, thinking that everything would work out.”

“That’s not what you told me.” The mistress turned around; her eyes dark, cheeks stained with tears, and her face was red from anger and crying.  She stepped forward, until her body was leaning against the other side of the table. Her breathing was drawing in so rapidly that her chest was heaving. “You told me that they were going to pay—just like your wife.”

“You sick, lying coward!” The wife muttered, stepping over so quickly that she slapped his cheek with all the rage of a pregnant woman.

 The man moved his jaw back and forth before grimacing. “All you cared about was that baby. You never wanted to do anything with me, but go shopping, talk about the baby and what we were going to do. Every second of the day. That baby had more things packed into one room than we had in our house.”

“Well excuse me for being happy that we finally could get pregnant! We’ve been trying for the last five years.”

Cal intervened, before she could go on. Grabbing her arm despite her protest; he pulled her to the door, dialed in the code and instructed the guards to have her calm before she left. She had gone from anger, to extreme anger in a matter of minutes. 

 It took him as long to lock up, as it did to ask the next question. “Did you help him?”

The woman looked quite appalled. “No, I didn’t help him.”

“See, now that was genuine.” Cal spun his finger in a circle. “But you did know what he was planning to do.” Guilt flashed over her features, momentarily freezing her in place.

“I didn’t think he was serious—“

“Shut up, Misty.”

“You want me to shut up?” She challenged Jacob, stepping forward. Her eyes narrowed at him. “I’ve been quiet for too long.” Turning back to Cal, she gave him an offer. “You want the evidence. Go to my car. I have a shirt that I was supposed to get dry cleaned for him. It has Brent’s blood all over it.”

---

Taking off her sunglasses, Gillian slung her purse over her good shoulder and froze. She jumped when she heard a knock at her window. She looked over in relief when she realized it was only Anna.

It had taken her half the trip down here, to convince herself to call ahead and let Anna know that she was coming down. Expecting someone else to answer—or the answering machine-she had picked up on the second ring.

They spoke on the phone for a few minutes. It was Anna who had asked if they could have lunch. Gillian had agreed to come pick her up. She didn’t tell her that she already had the address to her office written down.

Unlocking the door, Gillian got out. Anna took one look at her and pulled her into a gentle hug. Gillian found herself, hugging her friend tightly; a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips and growing when they broke apart.

Anna gave her a concerned glance. “How are you doing really?” Sighing gently, Gillian rubbed at her hands. “If I‘m remembering correctly--you’re the best psychiatrist that anybody might want to be prodding them with questions.” That got another smile. “But you were the worst at letting anyone help you.” This time Anna sighed. “I saw the news report Gillian. That is why you came, isn’t it?”

There was no judgment in Anna’s voice. That is why Gillian loved her. She was the same way that she remembered her, and she was a sweet relief to her fears.

“Yes.”

Anna watched her momentarily, sensing that Gillian didn’t want to open up here—so she gestured towards some buildings across the long stretch of parking spaces. “Come on. I know a great place that we can eat. We’ll talk there.”