Whittaker 01 The Enemy We Know (6 page)

I thought it was someone’s birthday until I noticed the amused grins directed my way. Lisa, Mary Kate, and Carol, our addictions therapist, crowded into the tiny front office, giggling. Sarah, catching the mood, circled around to lean over the half-wall dividing the office from the lobby. All eyes were on me.

“
Looks like someone’s been a very good girl.”

“
What are you talking about? Are these for me?” A goofy grin bubbled up from my heart, spreading across my face irrepressibly.

I crossed to the desk and stood looking down in amazement. A stiff, white envelope addressed to “Violet Whittaker” perched in the greenery. As I pulled the card out, the girls crowded in, shamelessly peeking over my shoulder at the inscription:
“To my ‘forward Violet’—Thou hast all the all of me.”

Whoa.

“
So, who’s the Romeo?” Lisa kidded.

I turned the card over, searching. No name anywhere.

“
Um …” I said.

“
Letty! You’re kidding, right? You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?” Carol said.

“
Well, I’m dating a guy, but we’re not to this stage yet. We’ve only been going out since January.”

“
You
might not be at ‘this stage,’ but he sure is!”

“
Maybe with all the craziness on Tuesday, he’s realized how much he cares,” Lisa piped up.

“
That’s so romantic! I never knew your name was ‘Violet.’” Sarah was leaning so far over the partition she nearly tipped over.

Displaying slightly better manners, Mary Kate, who had been hanging back, moved forward, touching a rose petal gently with her fingertip. “They’re beautiful,” she said, smiling.

“
They sure are. You know something? I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“
Really? Not even for prom or something?”

“
No, I—”

In an instant, the atmosphere changed. Lisa snapped to attention, bustling up to Sarah at the partition. Carol scooped a stack of files into her arms and vanished into the filing room. I turned around. Marshall stood, arms crossed, leaning against the door jamb.

His eyes rested thoughtfully on the vase of flowers, then moved to mine. I blushed and looked away. Reaching blindly, I picked up the vase, accidentally splashing water down my front. Feeling ridiculous, I crossed the room to the door.

Instead of moving aside, he hesitated a bit too long for comfort, then stood back abruptly, letting me pass. I scurried up the hall like a runaway bride fleeing the chapel; his scrutiny and the half-formed suspicion flitting through my mind warming me uncomfortably.

I usually tried to get to the club at least twenty minutes early so Robert and I could share a cup of coffee and chat with friends before the six o’clock meeting. Tonight, even though I could have left them in the car, I ended up running the flowers home instead. Made me late, but I couldn’t quite convince myself that Robert had penned that passionate declaration. On the other hand, who else could it be? At least I had a chance to grab a quick cigarette before meeting Robert. He didn’t smoke.

Chewing gum and newly spritzed with perfume, I pushed through the double doors of the HP & Me. It was ten after six and the meeting had started. A few stragglers hung around the bar drinking coffee and catching up. I grabbed my mug, filled it, and headed for the big hall in the back where the larger meetings were held. Robert volunteered as this particular meeting’s treasurer, which was why he hadn’t waited for me. Plus, waiting made him crazy.

His clear blue eyes lighted on me as I crossed the hall and found a seat. Whatever issues he’d had as a teenager had been transformed into a prototype for a Norse god in later years. A dark blond with highlights women were forced to pay serious money for and a physique kept tight from daily workouts at his Minneapolis gym, he was a stunner. He even had those crinkles at the corners of his eyes that came from smiling—or in his case, squinting to read the fine print of contracts at house closings. Either way, very attractive as evidenced by the dramatic increase in female attendance at the Friday night meetings when he’d appeared on the scene a year and a half ago. I wasn’t there, but Sue was happy to fill me in on the competition—and all the attendant rumors—when Robert started talking to me early on.

Which also explained the second pair of eyes tracking my progress. Sandra, a blonde by bottle only, flipped her fake hair over one half-naked shoulder and rolled her eyes at my late arrival. Even though it was only mid-March she wore a sleeveless top, showcasing buff arms. Like Robert, she worked out, and some of the rumors about him included not only Sandra but the “special” exercises they’d practiced on her home gym equipment as well. Made me want to dip him in a vat of Lysol just thinking about it.

I spent most of the meeting demonstrating a ladylike disregard of Sandra’s squinting eyes and contemptuous lip curls by directing a demure “you may have had him once but I have him now” smile in her general direction. The facial calisthenics cost me; distracted, I had to pass on speaking once again and was surprised when the meeting ended sooner than I expected.

As the crowd let out, I tried catching up to Robert but got trapped in the bottleneck caused by the narrow hallway. Few, including myself, were patient enough to simply wait for the crowd to clear.

Stuck behind Anna in her wheelchair, I wasn’t surprised when an eager voice behind me said, “Hi, Letty! What a group, huh? There’s a lot of good sobriety here tonight, huh?”

“
Hi, Paul.”

“
Yeah, this is great. I didn’t think you were coming tonight, but then you did. Did you have another emergency at work?”

“
No, I just had something to take care of.”

“
Oh, that’s good. I heard about that guy busting in on you. That must have been horrible.”

We’d cleared the hall. People stood in casual clumps throughout the lobby, chatting. A curious few turned in response to Paul’s overly loud remarks.

“
It was.” My answer shot out more abruptly than intended. Knowing he meant well, I took a deep breath. “Listen, Paul, I’ll talk to you later. I need to catch up with Robert.”

“
Oh sure, I understand. Tell Robert I said hi. You take care now, okay?”

Robert stood with a group of friends watching ESPN on the TV bolted high on the wall. I made my way over, tucking my arm into his. He leaned down, kissed my forehead, then turned back to the conversation. Sports bored me. I tuned them out, content to people watch.

After a few minutes, Robert’s sponsor Chad turned to me with a smile.

“
Sorry, Letty, we seem to be leaving you out.”

I’d always liked Chad. Second-generation Norwegian genes supplied blonder-than-blond hair and a propensity to communicate mostly with his Delft-blue eyes, saving words for really important occasions like when the Packers won. As a typical northern Wisconsin farm boy, he’d been raised on homegrown beef, outdoor chores, and beer. The beer didn’t take. Making a sudden decision, I brought up Paul’s search for a sponsor.

“
He’s asked a couple of guys and they all turned him down. He’s not the most socially gifted, but his heart’s in the right place. Any suggestions?”

A game of social freeze tag ensued—one of those awkward moments where nobody moves out of fear of drawing attention to himself. I waited them out. Therapists can wait forever. Someone would break.

Not surprisingly, it was Chad, although I’d secretly hoped Robert would offer.

“
I guess I could,” Chad said, looking over the crowd at Paul.

Across the room, Paul stood against the wall as people streamed past. He caught our stares and waved happily, glad to be noticed. I was the only one who waggled my fingers back.

Robert grabbed my hand, pulling it down. “Don’t encourage him! Oh great, here he comes. Chad,” he continued, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to do this.”

“
It’s no problem,” Chad said. “Besides, AA isn’t a popularity contest. Remember?” Significant eye contact and a raised eyebrow underscored his message, signaling some secret sponsor issue.

Nevertheless, just before Paul bounded into our midst, Chad leaned over and whispered, “But you owe me.”

I giggled for the first time in days.

Robert wasn’t so light-hearted. Throughout the evening, I’d failed to see any indication that he’d sent the flowers, and if he had, the gesture had made him cranky. After meetings we usually went out for a late supper with friends. His, mostly, since he didn’t see them during the week. Tonight I just wanted for the two of us to spend some time alone.

Didn’t happen. My suggestion, admittedly offered a tad late since we were already in Robert’s car heading to the restaurant, just caused more irritation.

“
Letty, we always go out with the gang. If you wanted to change the routine, you should have said so earlier.”

“
I didn’t have time earlier. We get so little time together; I just thought it would be nice.”

“
I don’t get much time with my friends either. Sometimes I feel stretched too thin as it is. I just hope Chad doesn’t drag Paul along. What were you thinking of, roping him into being that geek’s sponsor? He’s so busy now I hardly get a chance to see him.”

Stung, I replied more harshly than I wanted. “I didn’t rope anyone into anything! Chad’s a big boy. If he didn’t want to sponsor Paul, he would have said so.”

“
You don’t think it put him on the spot? My girlfriend asking him for a favor? He probably thought I put you up to it.”

“
Why on earth would he think that? That’s ridiculous. And I wasn’t just asking him; I asked the whole group. Why didn’t you volunteer if you think Chad’s too busy?”

“
Because I’m twice as busy as Chad, and I live too far away. I can’t be available in emergencies.”

I’d heard this before, but it didn’t explain why Robert didn’t sponsor someone in the Cities or why he chose a long-distance sponsor for himself. I’d always been charitable, figuring that he’d subconsciously arranged his closest relationships with built-in barriers. Long-distance relationships have a nice buffer zone for people with trust issues, me included.

We shelved the discussion when he pulled into the restaurant lot. Chad had, indeed, brought Paul, who was nearly delirious with joy at the invitation. Robert and I sat at the opposite end of the pushed-together tables.

Screw it. I ordered a chocolate shake for supper.

The rest of the evening churned out more of the same. An on-going source of tension between Robert and me included the fact that we had not yet been intimate. Tension was building in more ways than one. Truth was, I’d never been with a man without being liquored up, and with Robert living in the Cities, we hadn’t had any real time together. Trust issues, indeed.

So far Robert had acquiesced, but with visions of Sandra’s “workout” sessions hovering in the back of my mind, I’d been stressing enough on my own. That evening, while dropping me off before heading to a rental property where he stayed on weekends, Robert didn’t even
try
to put the moves on. That pissed me off, too. As he pulled up next to my little Focus, I realized I still didn’t know if he’d sent the damn flowers or not.

“
Did you send me flowers today?”

“
What?” The confusion wrinkling his face was answer enough.

“
Never mind,” I said, shoving the car door open.

He grabbed my arm.
Again.
“What flowers?”

“
Someone sent me a bouquet at work.” I yanked my arm away. “I thought maybe it was you. They didn’t sign it so—”

“
Who’s sending you flowers?”

“
Apparently not you. Look, just forget about it; it’s no big deal.”

“
Maybe it was a client?”

“
Maybe.” Not with that inscription, but why borrow trouble?

“
Listen, Letty, I’m sorry about tonight.” Proving he was capable of learning, he laid his hand lightly on mine. “I know I wasn’t very patient. Things have been really rough at work and I may have let that carry over to tonight. I’m sorry.”

I thought about my last few days at work and decided I wasn’t very impressed with his apology. Besides, I found the timing of it a bit suspect. Guy finds out his girlfriend gets a bunch of flowers and suddenly he’s Mr. Sensitive. Big surprise.

On the other hand, I didn’t want a big fight, and I knew I’d been on edge, too. Capitulating for the moment, I leaned across, and we kissed good night.

When I got home, I was greeted by a vase full of anonymous flowers and a voice mail filled beyond its capacity with blank messages. Deleting the latter, I briefly debated throwing the stupid bouquet away. They were too pretty. The passionate card, however, I ended up stuffing between the pages of my AA Big Book.

I was glad when the next day kept me busy. I focused on the clients passing through my office and, for the first time in many days, felt confident and sure of myself.

I finished before both Carol and Mary Kate, the only other counselors working, and headed out as quickly as I could. Patches of snow still covered the ground, the day promising a teasing hint of spring. My car was parked on the far side of the lot, its nose butting up against the massive berm of plowed snow piled along the edge. Compacted and ice hard, that stuff wouldn’t melt until at least May. If we were lucky.

As I went to unlock my car, a sudden movement at my back made me jump and drop my keys. Feeling foolish, I turned to share a laugh at my clumsiness with the in-going client.

Wayne smiled, too, but he wasn’t exactly oozing friendliness. He stood about three feet away, leaning up against the rusted side of a van, arms crossed in a manner recognized by bouncers and therapists as belligerent.