“As you process these feelings, don’t forget self-care: rest, nutrition, moments to connect with yourself beyond this role,” he encouraged.
“I'll try,” I promised, rising from the chair. “Thanks again for listening.”
“Anytime,” Jamael replied as I stood. “That’s what I’m here for.”
I left Dr. Winters' office feeling a little lighter but still weighed down by the complex issues tying my professional and personal worlds together. The conversation helped clear some of the fog, but the reality? It remained unchanged. Ricard would leave, and I’d stay. That was the deal we signed, no matter how much I wished it were different.
As I walked through the wellness center, my gaze drifted to the large clock mounted on the wall near the exit: 9:42 PM. Which meant… Casey would still be up.
The realization hit me like a lightning bolt. I hadn’t spoken to my brother since I got here, and I needed to hear his voice. Something real and grounding amid all the insanity.
Before I could think too much about it, I changed direction, heading toward the main building. My feet moved with newfound purpose, carrying me through the elegant corridors of Dove Canyon Ranch. Even at this hour, the place hummed with activity—staff buzzing about their duties, clients relishing the ambiance.
I kept my eyes forward, not wanting to catch anyone’s attention. After my Dark Room session and the heavy chat with Jamael, I felt raw. The last thing I needed was to get pulled into another interaction.
The main building’s reception area was quieter than during the day but still staffed. A guy I recognized from orientation, Marcus, sat behind the polished wooden desk, deep in work. He looked up as I approached, a professional smile crossing his face. “Good evening. How can I help you?”
I cleared my throat, feeling like a kid asking for a favor. “I was hoping to make a phone call. To my brother, in California.”
His expression changed, more cautious now. “Let me see if that’s possible.”
He turned to his computer, typing quickly. “Bennett, right? Theo?”
“That's right.”
More typing followed, a series of clicks and beeps. The monitor's glow reflected in his glasses. “You haven't scheduled communicationin advance. According to protocol, all external contact requires 24-hour notice and approval from a supervisor.”
I sighed. “No, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I just finished with a client and was thinking about my brother, and… I’d really appreciate it if there's any way to arrange it.”
Marcus studied me for a moment, his eyes softening a bit. “Let me make a call.”
He picked up a phone and dialed, turning away from me as he spoke. I couldn’t catch what he was saying but caught phrases like “first-time request” and “family situation.” After an eternity, he hung up and turned back. “Vincent has approved a ten-minute call. Follow me, please.”
Relief washed over me.
As I walked behind him down a short hallway lined with offices, he stopped at one of them, using a keycard to unlock the door. “This is one of our communication rooms. I should mention that all external communications are monitored and recorded for security purposes, though your privacy will be respected to the extent possible.”
I nodded, understanding what that meant. Still, it made sense.
The room was small but cozy, with a simple desk, a comfy chair, and a standard landline telephone. No windows, I noticed, probably soundproofed. Marcus gestured for me to take a seat. “I’ll need the number you wish to call.”
I gave him Casey's number at the nursing facility, watching as he made a note of it. “I’ll place the call for you and connect you once it goes through. Remember, ten minutes maximum, and please refrain from discussing your job or location.”
“I understand,” I said, heart racing with anticipation.
The phone on the desk rang, and my pulse surged. I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Mr. Bennett, I have your call connected. Please remember your time limit,” Marcus said.
“Thanks,” I replied, trying to calm my jittery nerves.
There was a click, followed by the sound of a different line ringing. Once, twice, three times. Just as worry began to creep in, there was a click. “Thousand Oaks Skilled Nursing Unit.”
“Hi, this is Theo Bennett,” I said, breathless. “Casey Bennett's brother. I was hoping I could speak with him if he's available?”
“Theo! Yes, of course.” Her tone instantly warmed. “He’s been asking about you. Let me check if he’s still awake.”
“Thanks,” I said, relief flooding through me. Hearing a familiar voice would ground me amid the chaos.
