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The mention of my mother and Madison in the same sentence is really too much, and like a pussy, I quickly wipe my eyes. “I think you’re right. My mother would have loved her. It’s too bad she isn’t…here,” I add a moment later. The wheels suddenly begin turning.
I’ve got it. Ms. Vale was right. The problem is I’ve been approaching this the wrong way. Words mean nothing if they’re not backed by actions of the heart.
Rising hastily, I rush over to Susanna and smile. “This is highly inappropriate, with you being my employee and all, but I’m afraid words cannot express this.” Catching her completely unaware, I step forward and enfold her in a hug.
She stands stunned, but moments later, she hugs me back.
“Thank you, Susanna.”
“My pleasure, Dixon.”
We break apart before it gets too weird, and she smiles. “I’ll see to getting your coffee before Dr. Turner arrives. Did you want soy milk, too?”
“Too? Chad wants soy milk?” I ask, pulling a repulsed face. When did he turn into a tree-hugging hippie?
She nods. “Yes. Apparently, he’s watching his waistline.”
No doubt this new craze was inspired by the harpy Rebecca. “He should be more concerned with watching his wallet.”
Susanna bites down on her bottom lip to hide her smirk. “I’ll page you once he arrives.”
When she leaves, I return to my desk, hunting through my drawers for a loosepiece of paper. Reaching for my ballpoint, I start doing something neither millions of Americans nor I have done in a long time—I write a letter.
Dearest Madison,
Words cannot express how sorry I am. I understand you’re mad at me. You have every right to be.
If you can find it in your heart to give me another chance, please meet me at this address this Sunday at 2 p.m.: 678 Easton Ave, New Brunswick, New Jersey.
It’s time I show you how I felt, rather than tell you.
I hope to see you there.
Dixon x
Just as I sign it, Susanna pages me, alerting me to Chad’s arrival. I place the letter in my drawer just as the door opens.
“Dixon.”
Chad Turner is a busy man, as he’s on the Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences board. He’s usually not one for social visits, so I can’t help but wonder why he’s here.
Standing, I extend my hand. “Nice to see you, Chad. You’re looking well.” I can’t help but mock.
He proudly pulls up his pants. “Rebecca has me on some vegan diet. The food may be hideous, but I’ve never felt better. I’ve never had more energy.” When he concludes his sentence with an insinuating wink, I swallow my distaste with a strained smile.
I don’t have the energy to make small talk when it comes to that piranha. “So what can I do for you?” I ask, taking a seat while gesturing to the chair in front of me.
“That’s what I like about you, Dixon; you’re not one for small talk.”
Susanna knocks before entering with our coffees. Placing them on my desk, she’s out the door a moment later.
As Chad reaches for his, he says, “I presume you’ve heard the unfortunate news about Dr. Rubin Gold?”
“No, I have not.” That lucky bastard was the winner of this year’s Gerald Harriet’s Award. He should be celebrating with cheap wine and cheaper women.
Chad looks awfully uncomfortable as he reveals, “Well, he was caught in a…compromising position in Mexico a few days after the awards ceremony.”
“Oh?” My interest is piqued.
