“Obviously, if you were trying to take something worth anything, you’d be in the locked drawers. Not the free shit.”
“I’ll make a note,” I said, then pointed at the screen. “But this? Is this a joke?”
He smirked. “Dr. Cal. That’s what he likes to be called, FYI. Or at least that’s what everyone calls him in the lounge. Just don’t make direct eye contact, and you’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t sure exactly where Bennett’s sexual attraction lay, only that it wasn’t with me. He was remarkably close-lipped about his personal life, which was part of the allure of a place like this. We could bring our history with us in the diplomas on the walls, or choose to keep our pasts to ourselves. We existed in the present. We looked to the future.
“What sort of deal with the devil does it take to be a doctor and look like this? And why have I never heard of him before?” I asked.
“Because you’re not in the lounge,” he said. “Trust me. He was all anyone could talk about for weeks. Just started last month.”
Which was probably why I hadn’t heard of him yet; he hadn’t shown up in any reports. A new hire also meant a decent chance of me getting in with a quick appointment.
“So, I’ll see you out tonight, right?” he asked, standing to leave.
I looked at him head-on. Bennett worked Saturdays, and he typically passed on the Friday-evening activities. Or refused to commit, occasionally dropped by for a quick drink before claiming he had to head home. Though from the way he checked his phone throughout the night, I sometimes assumed he was heading somewhere better. If I teased him about it—Hot date? Better offer?— he’d only smile. He basked in the mystery—and in my fury—like it was a game.
By this point, it sort of was.
“You planning to stay for more than one drink this time?” I asked.
“Just found out my ex is in town, I could use the reinforcements.”
And with that—the spark of curiosity making my back straighten, a grin of his own at my reaction—he knew he had me.
“An ex, huh?” I said, looking down at my computer. “I’ll be there if I can.” An echo of his usual answer. But I was serious. “I’m wiped.”
“Please don’t leave me alone with Elyse,” he said.
Elyse was new, and she leaned extra close when she spoke, hand on my arm and eyes wide, even just to say something benign, like The drinks are half-price. I had liked her immediately. She reminded me of those girls I watched in high school and college, asking each other Are we going out? and What do we want for lunch?, automatically including herself—and therefore me—in a partnership.
She’d started at the hospital back in the spring, had established this Friday-night meetup between us in her very first week—a routine I’d unsuccessfully attempted to loop Bennett into as well. Until, apparently, tonight.
I took a sip of Bennett’s coffee, dark and bitter. “This is terrible. Are you sure it isn’t a punishment?”
He took the cup from my hand, removed the lid, took a sip himself before wincing. “Okay, so, the coffeemaker in the lounge was empty, and I don’t actually know how to make it.”
“You’re going to start a revolt. People have quit over less.”
Just a few months ago, a bleary-eyed woman I barely knew had come into my office and quit out of nowhere. When I asked why, she said, It’s the scent, like something’s burning. But no one else seems to notice.
I’d asked her to show me. Hospital safety fell under my jurisdiction, after all.
No, no. At Mapleview.
The same apartment complex I’d once lived in myself. As soon as she said it, a whiff of a memory—singed plastic; the burned remnants in a toaster—and then it was gone.
I got it. There was always something about the apartment buildings that felt slightly off. Luxury amenities but sterile and void of personality. Everything was temporary there.
The Mapleview apartments were occupied mostly by nurses and doctors testing out the location, so everyone was respectful of the long working hours, the round-the-clock shifts. We’d grown accustomed to speaking in whispers. To catching doors with our feet before they slammed shut behind us. To standing too close when we spoke.
Working in health care consulting meant we were acutely aware that the state of our health and survival depended on the ability of the care providers to rest between shifts.
But the silence, and the constant schedule changes, they did something to our circadian rhythm. Some people adapted, and some didn’t.
Can’t you try a different building? I’d asked.
But she’d simply frowned like it was all too late. I gave it a shot, she’d said. But it’s time to go back. Looking around my office like she could sense it even there. Waiting for it to reemerge. Like a thought that had taken over everything else, impossible to escape.
All for the best, really. Elyse had been her replacement.
But it reminded me that all of us were really only one degree from the start of a slide. Something that worms its way inside and refuses to release you. A simple thing at first, that you can’t ignore and can’t shake. Until it permeates everything. Until you can think only in terms of this one simple thing—its presence or its absence—driving you slowly mad.
TRANSCRIPT FROM LIVE REPORT WITH GARY SIMON, CHANNEL 9 METEOROLOGIST, COOKE COUNTY
OCTOBER 18, 2000
What we had here was a perfect combination of factors.
The ground has been saturated from the record-breaking rainfall in September. The ground is like a sponge, to an extent. But at some point, it just won’t absorb any more.
Monday night into the early hours of Tuesday, we had a very slow-moving storm, and the system just sat on top of us for hours. We had more than two inches of rain come down between two and four a.m. It doesn’t sound like much, but six inches of rushing water can lift a car. How much do you think it would take for a small child?
CHAPTER 5
Friday, 5:30 p.m.
DR. CAL’S RECEPTIONIST LEFT a message that he would stick around after hours to fit me in. This was after she’d first tried to schedule me in two weeks’ time and I’d told her it was urgent. The magic word, especially from a colleague at the hospital.
By the time I left my office, the administrative wing was as empty as it had been when I’d arrived that morning.
Dr. Cal’s office was two floors up, on the fifth floor, and I took the stairs. The hallway lights were off. Only a strip of light filtered from under one doorway—the rest of the offices appeared closed up for the day.
I knocked before turning the handle, poked my head in. The receptionist was in the process of gathering up her things, eyes on the clock behind her.
She spun at my entrance. “Oh,” she said, hand to heart. “Olivia?” Her red lips pulled into a practiced smile. “We’ve been waiting for you. Go on in, he’s expecting you.” Her purse was already packed, sitting on top of the desk, a pair of heels sticking out.
“Thanks for squeezing me in,” I said, heading toward the door.
Dr. Cal was facing away when I pushed the door to his office open, though I assumed he’d heard us chatting—there wasn’t much distance between us.