Sure, he’s a food shifter, not an in-your-face ice block like me. But it’s not like I went all crazy the first time I ran into a troll. Or a Yeti. Or a ghost. I just stared. Politely. From a distance. Couldn’t Aurora just do the same?
I guess not, because she moves on from peek-a-boo to Turn Your Back on the Ice Block. She spins around, counts down slowly from five, shouts one, and spins around to find… you guessed it… ice block me. What did she expect?
This game is getting old, fast, and I struggle to shift back… while she struggles to accept, well, me. It takes a while, but then I finally feel ice running through my veins. Which isn’t as bad as it sounds. Quite nice, really.
I like thinking about ice. Cold, calming ice. Icebergs floating in the ocean. Frozen lakes glistening in the sunlight. The Silver Skates Ice Rink sparkling right after Jack Frost finishes another round on the Zamboni. And I didn’t shriek or play peek-a-boo the first time I met him, either.
I smile—internally, since I’m still a block of ice—and start to relax. Which is one of the signs that I should be able to shift back.
A few seconds later, I’m standing on two feet. My skin is a little cold and I still have ice on the brain. But my thoughts are as crisp as the cool winter air.
Aurora stares at me for a few seconds and then reclaims her seat. Doc’s seat. And Doc’s tea. “I’m Dr. Aurora Lyons, but you can just call me Aurora,” she introduces herself. Guess she’s going to pretend the little freak out didn’t happen. “I’m covering for Dr. Bernard. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Izaguirre. Or should I call you Xavi?”
There it is again. Mr. Iza Guir Ray. But hey, at least she got my first name right. Xavi with an H, like Havi.
“It’s pronounced its-a-gir-eh,” I tell her. “But Xavi is fine.”
“Xavi Izaguirre,” she says cheerfully, getting my full name right this time. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem. Sorry about earlier.” I’m about to elaborate when I finally process the rest of her words. “Wait, you’re covering for Dr. Bernard?”
Aurora nods.
“As a therapist?” I pale and gesture toward the filing cabinets. The same cabinets that hold every single thing I’ve ever told Doc. Who’s seventy and pretty old-school, so he scribbles on steno pads the whole time I’m here.
Which means somewhere there are stacks of paper about my ice block issues. And my anxiety. And the fact that I make a fool of myself every time I see Zoe Wynter. Not to mention the time I accidentally pictured my old lady neighbor while I was jerking off.
“I haven’t looked at your files, Xavi,” Aurora assures me when I keep staring at the filing cabinets in horror. “I thought it would be best to wait, since you didn’t return my calls.”
“You called?”
“Of course. Dr. Bernard asked me to contact all his patients. He had to take the first flight home. His daughter’s in the hospital, but she got out of surgery this morning and she’s going to be just fine. I can ask him to call you to reschedule the moment he’s back in town.”
I shake my head. Partly because my session really can’t wait, and partly because calling me isn’t going to work. Getting paid by the article barely leaves enough money for rent and food, not to mention Shifter Insurance. The latter pays for any incidental ice block damage as well as my weekly therapy. But that means right now my cell phone only works over public wi-fi. Which means my apartment, the library, Jewels Cafe, and the north-east corner of the Herald office. Yes, my boss is that cheap.
“Would you like to stay for your appointment?” Aurora asks.
I nod.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” She gestures toward the couch.
“Thanks.” I sit down on the familiar leather instead of lying down the way I usually do with Doc. “Sorry I thought you were Dr. Bernard earlier. I assumed he drank a potion, or he was a chameleon. It made sense at the time.”
Aurora’s eyebrows furrow.
“I guess it is kind of farfetched.” I rub the back of my neck. “But this is Silver Springs. You never know who anyone really is.”
“That is an interesting observation,” Aurora says thoughtfully. “What makes you say that?”
“The fact that I thought you were Doc?” I shake my head and glance up at the clock. I just wasted over half my session as an ice block, which only leaves twenty minutes to summarize my problem and find a solution. Assuming there is one.
“That’s odd. The clock was working fine a minute ago.” Aurora purses her lips. She checks her tablet and her frown intensifies.
“It looks like it’s working fine to me,” I tell her. Except for the fact that it’s ticking—both literally and metaphorically—and my time is running out. “I really need your advice, Aurora.”
“And I’m here to help.” Aurora wraps Doc’s blanket more tightly around her shoulders. “When you first came in, you mentioned something about a newspaper. Are you a journalist, Xavi?”
“I am. For now, anyway. If I don’t get this article to my boss by Wednesday morning, I can kiss my job goodbye.”
“So you’re having trouble writing an article?” Aurora asks.
I nod. My anxiety spikes, my fingers tingle, and I take a few calming breaths. “My boss finally, finally, assigned me a front-page piece. Which could make or break my career. But if I don’t blame Zoe and her boss for the robberies, my job will go to someone else. And if I write the piece the way he wants it, Zoe will hate me. And then she’ll definitely never agree to go out with me.”
“So you’ve asked her out before?” Aurora asks. I notice that, unlike Doc, she’s not writing anything down. Which actually helps me relax. And open up.
“I haven’t. I’ve wanted to. So many times. But when I see her, I always freak out and run out of the room. It’s either that or turn into an ice block.”
“You mean freeze up?” Aurora asks.
“In a manner of speaking.” I gesture at the floor where I’d shifted earlier. It’s dry—my shifted form doesn’t melt—but I don’t think either of us has forgotten me shifting and her playing peek-a-boo. “I always ice block when I’m anxious.”
“All right. Let’s work with that.” Aurora leans forward in her seat and pulls the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. “What does turning into an ice block feel like?”
“What?” I frown.
“You said you feel like a block of ice when you’re anxious,” Aurora repeats. “Do you know why you associate your anxiety with a block of ice?”
“Associate my anxiety…” I trail off as I mentally go over the past half hour. Aurora freaking out when I shifted. Not just a bit surprised, but like, really panicked. Then Aurora acting all normal the second I shifted back. And all confused when I said I thought she was Doc. And now, her saying I feel like an ice block, not that I am an ice block. “Are you human?”
Instead of telling me what kind of supe she is, or shaking her head, Aurora regards me thoughtfully. “Do you not feel human, Xavi?”
“Shit.” I bury my face in my hands. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”