Page 61 of The Wicker King

adjective:

1. Of, or pertaining to, a relationship in which one person is physically or psychologically addicted, as to alcohol or gambling, and the other person is psychologically dependent on the first in an unhealthy way.

“Does that sound familiar?” the psychologist asked him. His shrink was a young man this time.

August laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, it does. What are you going to do about it? I like it just the way it is. What are you going to do?”

MOMENTUM

“You’re a smart boy, August,” the psychologist said. The doctor was young. Pretty, this time. Probably Korean. She wore her glasses on the edge of her nose and smiled at him often. “The difficulty with this case is your reluctance to advance with your therapy. From what I’ve heard from my colleagues, you reach near breakthrough, then stop opening up and instead make flippant remarks until they’re forced to end the session with you. I don’t think it’s that you don’t understand. I think you’re acting out on purpose so you can stay near Mr. Rossi.”

August shrugged, but inside he was impressed. It had been six months and she was the only one who had noticed.

The psychologist began writing something on her notepad. “Unlike others who have handled your case, I think that you would benefit from less separation from Mr. Rossi, because it is not having the intended effect. At this point it just seems to be exacerbating your codependency. It is, however, a part of the conditions of your sentence, so I can’t do much about it. I can, however, make arrangements to increase your likelihood of seeing him.” She stopped writing and looked at him hard. “In order to do so I need your cooperation. I need you to trust me and I need you to stop acting out. We need to have confidentiality because I will be doing things that could put me at risk, not to mention complicate your case. You have eight months left and a parole hearing coming up in four weeks. Is this something you want, August? Because it’s the only way I see that can accelerate your therapy.”

“Yes.” He didn’t wait a second to think about it. It was worth it.

The psychologist tore a small scrap of paper from her notepad. “My cell phone number.”

He folded the paper until it was very small, then tucked it in the waistband of his pants.

AVE MARIA

The psychologist pulled him to the side during mealtime. “He gave me something to give to you. I read it and it didn’t make much sense.”

“That’s okay. Give it to me.” August snatched the paper out of her hand and opened it. His heart raced at the sight of Jack’s spindly handwriting.

The morning sun rose pink and gold above the field

and, oh glorious Ives, how his armor shimmered in the light.

How the feathers on his helmet framed his face. This is what had been missing all along.

And as the champion stood, boots firm on the ground, howling to the sky, I knew at once that he’d never been mine at all.

He was a thing of the earth. He belonged to the streams and the deserts and the darkness. To the sound of thunder and the whispers of the ocean as it clawed the shore. To the rain that fell when the sun was still blazing, to the grime clenched between my fingers.

I stood at his side.

Nothing but the king of a kingdom of mud. But I threw my head back anyway and joined his cry.

They send word on the wing of a bird

but faces are my currency,

and till i’m paid in full, they may as well send nothing.

11:23 2:45

August flushed. It was obscene.

“What does it mean?”

“He just … misses me. Thank you for this. I … really appreciate it.”

The psychologist nodded, but looked as if she didn’t quite believe him. August smiled to reassure her and tucked the note in his waistband to keep it for later.

“You should smile more often,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked down the hall. “It’s a good look on you.”