AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We’re going to have to work on your stamina, Dilbert, my man.”
Dilbert let out a loud, doggy sigh as Dean closed his office door. He started running again until he made it outside to his truck. Checking his dashboard clock as he turned the key, he figured he would make it to Rita’s office with ten minutes to spare, as long as the roads were clear of construction.
Dean’s thoughts started drifting to what he was going to say to Rita today. He’d given her every detail he could remember about the day of the bomb, from the smell of smoke and burning flesh to the ear-splitting sound of his brothers’ screams. Still, she just kept telling him, “Okay, we’ll pick this up again next week.”
Dean just wanted her to tell him what in the hell she wanted. What would it take for her to just sign off and give him his life back?
Maybe the truth. Maybe if you told her about the nightmares, she could give you something to help you sleep.
But if he told her about the dreams, about the anxiety and the sleepless nights, she’d have everything she needed to keep him out of the action. She’d probably try to shove a bunch of medications down his throat, and he didn’t want to be all drugged up like a zombie. He wanted to be the guy people could count on.
He just wanted to feel needed—not lucky. People had told him over and over how lucky he was to be alive, how lucky he was to get a post stateside and not have to go back.
Dean pulled into Rita Wentworth’s office lot and parked before walking inside to the quiet, whitewashed sitting area. A landscape of a cottage surrounded by wildflowers was the only splash of color in the room. Even the couch he sat down on was cream colored, which probably explained the NO EATING OR DRINKING sign on the opposite wall.
Rita stepped out into the hallway, her hand on the back of a woman who was wiping at her cheeks furiously with a tissue.
“I’ll see you next week, Susan. Call if you need to talk sooner than that.”
“Thank you, Rita,” Susan sniffled.
Once Susan disappeared out the door, Dean stood as Rita faced him, her blue eyes seeming to pierce his soul. He assumed she was in her early fifties by the lines on her face and threads of gray in her jet-black hair, but he had never been a good judge of women’s ages.
“Dean, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine, Rita. Just fine.”
“Good.” With a fluttering wave of her hand, she asked, “Should we get started then?”
VIOLET WAS JUST wrapping up her day at the hotline and wished she had called in today. Her day had gone from bad to worse, first with Dean and then with school. She’d gotten to her summer class only to find that it had been canceled.
No e-mail or text from the teacher, just a note on the door that said Class canceled. Sick.
“So sorry you wasted precious gas to drive to campus this morning, but I am probably off getting my nob waxed,” Violet had said aloud in a fake British accent, mocking the professor. He was a pompous, sexist ass, but his class was a requirement she needed.
So, she’d gone in early for her shift at Here to Listen, figuring it would keep her mind off of things, but that hadn’t helped either. She had spent most of it distracted, worrying about Casey and how he was doing on his first day. She had almost called several times but stopped herself. The last thing she wanted was to pester them so much that they kicked Casey out.
Or are you just worried you might get Dean on the phone and have another awkward conversation?
“Sometimes, I just feel like no one can see me. Like they don’t even notice that I’m drowning,” the caller said softly on the other end of the line, bringing Violet out of her head. She was glad that the caller couldn’t see her cheeks burning guiltily. It wasn’t fair to these people for her to tune them out. It was just one more person letting them down.
Trying to make up for her insensitivity, she said, “I can imagine that is very hard to deal with. Really, anytime you need to talk, please call us. And it is really important to let your family know how you’re feeling, too. Sometimes, people just get busy and don’t mean to push others away. If you just sit them down and voice your concerns, I am sure that they will be there for you.”
“I will try talking to my husband tonight.”
Violet wasn’t sure if she really would, but she could only listen and advise. She couldn’t make people do what they weren’t ready for.
“I think that is a great first step.”
“Thank you for listening. It helped,” the caller said.
Guilt shot through her. “You’re welcome, and take care, okay? All right, bye.”
Violet disconnected the call and groaned. Slowly she climbed to her feet and went to grab her time card.
“Are you working Friday, Violet?” Sean Lambert asked.
Sean was a funny guy who had started at Here to Listen as part of a community service gig and been hired after his hours were up. Now he was a liberal arts major working on his doctorate to become a college professor in English lit.
