Salem's Sight (6 page)

“
Salem, please, take a
breath,” she cut in. “What made you think of this all of a sudden?”
Mom asked.

“
I mean it Mom, all my life
I wanted a pet and couldn’t have one because of Dad’s allergies.
Now he’s dead and I have to live without him. I’d give up a pet in
a minute to get him back, but I can’t, so the least you could do is
help me deal with things by letting me have a pet…”

“
Okay, you can have a pet,”
she broke in, “but can it be a small one? Not a Great Dane? Okay?
Can we talk about this? Dogs are a big responsibility. You have to
walk them…”

“
How about a cat?” Dead
silence. I had her and I couldn’t help but gloat.

“
A cat would be great. We
can check the paper...”

“
Already found one Mom.
There’s a litter down the street that’s old enough to be adopted
and one sort of chose me.” I held my breath. If there were going to
be a protest, it would be now.

“
Then it looks like I
should stop and get kitten chow on the way home.”

“
Thank you, thank you,
thank you,” I squealed into the phone as I jumped up and down like
an idiot. With the first bit of joy I felt since the accident, I
picked up my baby and shoved the phone at Mrs. Taunton. Breathless,
I gasped, “My mom.”

She smiled and took the phone while I
cuddled up to my fluffy bit of sanity.

I didn’t register the conversation. I
only knew she said yes. I felt my eyes well up and I could hear
Dad’s voice say, ‘When God closes a door, He always opens a
window.’ This tiny animal was the window.

I stayed at Mrs. Taunton’s for another
hour and a half until my mother picked us up. I was afraid if I
left it wouldn’t be real. Luckily, Mrs. Taunton is a real nice lady
and one who also wanted to unload her basket full of felines,
hopefully without taking them to the pound.

Mom showed up with a little blue
carrier and had the car packed with supplies. Dry food, wet food,
bowls, litter, a litter box, a bed, and a couple of toys. Yeah,
looked like maybe Mom was just as excited as I was.

It never occurred to me that Mrs.
Taunton and my mom might know each other, although it should have.
I was stunned to find out that not only did Vera Taunton remember
my mother as a child, but she was also a friend of my
grandmother.

When she said I could visit anytime, I
decided to take her up on it. I wanted to know more about my
grandmother, and let’s face it; the best place to learn about
someone is not going to be from that person’s child.

If my grandmother really did have
psychic ability, then her friend might have a different take on it
than my mother did.

I also should have realized the kitten
coup was a little too easy. When we got home my mother dropped the
bomb. My nutso appointment was for the next day. She was giving me
the pet and in return I would have to talk about my
issues.

Issues. Interesting way to put
it.

Just when I thought I had put one over
on her, I find she really put one over on me. I mean, what was I
going to do? Refuse? After getting the kitten? Yeah,
right.

I would have agreed to anything. It
didn’t matter. Who minds a head shrinker when you have an animal to
love?

When I thought about it later I had to
laugh. My mother and I were a lot alike. I used the death card to
get the kitten and she used the kitten to get me to the
shrink.

Manipulative. Both of us.

****

Now some things are just easier said
than done. That’s how I felt when I stood outside Dr. Martin’s
office shuffling my feet and trying to find a way to
evaporate.

Instead the hot senior, Robby, the one
who had stared at me in school a few weeks ago, opened the door and
walked right into me.

In order not to fall over, I grabbed
at his shirt and his hands went around my waist to steady me. I had
to look straight up to see his face. He was at least six feet tall
and way cuter close up. I felt weak like I’d been swimming too long
in the hot sun. Then I noticed the most devastatingly beautiful
blue eyes in the world were once again looking at me like I had two
heads.

“
Whoa, um, hi,” he
said.

Okay not exactly the most literate of
boys, but with that face who needed words.

Then it dawned on me. He was coming
out of the shrink’s office. Evidently he also had ‘issues.’
Gorgeous or not, I wasn’t getting hung up on a loony
tune.

“
You’re here to see…” he
looked toward the door.

“
Dr. Martin. I’d better go
in or I’ll miss my appointment.”

He took his hands away and I opened
the door wishing I could take the last few minutes back. I’d much
rather be held by a lunatic than share my soul with a
shrink.

I looked back and he was still
standing there, only now I sensed it wasn’t a two heads look, it
was an ‘umm’ look and he was giving it to me.

Figures. A guy that good looking
checking me out and he has to be missing some screws.

At least my luck is
consistent.

Dr. Martin stood, walked over to me,
and shook my hand. The wrong hand. The other one remained on the
door and I continued to peer out at Robby who was still standing
there.

Dr. Martin nodded to him then said to
me, “You can shut the door and have a seat.”

“
Sorry, window-shopping,” I
said as I took a few steps then flopped down into the soft maroon
leather chair opposite his desk. It was comfortable even if I
wasn’t. “I suppose the local nuthouse isn’t the best place to go
scooping out the region’s hotties.”

Now it was the good doctor’s turn to
look at me like I had a problem bigger than he anticipated. I was
surprised when the corner of his mouth turned into a hint of a
grin.

“
First, Salem, this isn’t a
nuthouse and I wasn’t aware my son was one of the regions hotties.
I’ll refrain from telling him. Wouldn’t want it to go to his
head.”

I shrank down in the chair and prayed
it’d swallow me whole while I tried to cover my face with my hands.
For a girl with such good grades, I cornered the market on
dumb.

I so should have been born tow-headed
blond. There were times when the dim-witted things I uttered turned
stupid into an art form. This was one of them.

I took a good look at the man in front
of me. About six feet tall, dark hair graying at the temples, blue
eyes. Yup, had I bothered to really see him when I walked in, I
might have saved myself some embarrassment. Although they weren’t
carbon copies, there was a family resemblance I would have easily
noticed if I’d bothered to look.

“
Could we start over?” I
asked.

“
I’d like that. Now your
mother says you’re here at her insistence and would do just about
anything to get out of counseling.”

I squirmed in my seat but didn’t
bother to deny it. “That would be correct. This is simple. My
father and I had an argument and he got killed a few minutes later.
Guilt. If I had been sitting were I usually sat I would have been
dead too. Guilt. I get it; I understand that there are accidents
every day and some people die while others live. I get it. But it
doesn’t change the fact that I still miss my dad. I want him and my
old life back.”

“
Good, understanding is
half the battle, but it’s not all of it. Acceptance is the rest of
it, and unfortunately, that takes time.”

“
No offense, Doc, but I
don’t have a degree, and I could’ve figured that out on my
own.”

He smiled patiently as if it was part
of his job, and I guess maybe it was. “Salem, some things are
easier said than done.”

“
I was just thinking the
same exact thing before I knocked on your door...”

“
Then you understand, my
job is long term, it’s not a band-aide quick fix. You aren’t here
for understanding. You’re a smart girl and you know the way of the
world. I’m here for you to vent, for you to get your anger out so
it won’t bottle up inside you and explode later.”

He looked past me toward the door and
I turned to see if anyone was there. He had this strange sort of
expression and I wondered for a moment if Robby had something
bottled up inside. Stupid thought. I mean, if Dr. Martin couldn’t
shrink his own kid what kind of luck would he have with
me?

But Robby didn’t need a shrink, I did.
And now he knew it. Of all the stinking luck.

“
I don’t like feeling crazy
and that’s how I feel about seeing a shr..
psychiatrist.”

“
If it helps, I’m only a
psychologist, which means I only treat little nuts. Major
psychiatric problems go downtown.” He grinned at me and I knew I
was going to like him in spite of his job title.

“
Funny, a shrink with a
sense of humor.”

“
Laughter keeps us
sane.”

“
What about
tears?”

A shadow crossed his face and for a
split second I thought I recognized the agony of loss. “That
too.”

“
Then I must be very
mentally fit.”

He nodded. “We don’t need to talk
about your dad yet. Let’s just talk about the other things you’re
going through. New school, new friends…”

“
New part of the country.”
I don’t know why I slipped that in, but lately it seemed to be
significant. I mean, I really felt like I’d changed
worlds.

“
It’s a lot to deal with on
top of everything else.”

Okay, so he said it, not me. Now as
far as I was concerned Mom was fair game. “Then why did my mother
add that to my plate?” I asked not trying to hide my
anger.

“
Why do you think she did
it?”

“
Oh good, the question with
a question routine.” If he kept this up he’d get to see me at my
worst.

“
Answer?” He looked at me
expectantly, like he knew I had the solution and he’d be willing to
wait all day for me to spit it out.

“
So we wouldn’t have to
drive by the spot Dad was killed every day. Because she thought I
couldn’t handle it.” The pitch of my voice rose with each word like
the sound of a teakettle when it’s close to a boil.

“
How was she handling
it?”

“
My mother?” I hadn’t
thought about that. Maybe it was more than just to protect me.
Maybe she couldn’t deal with it either.

I frowned. He got me to admit it to
myself. I hadn’t been handling it. It ripped my heart out every
time we drove past that intersection and it wouldn’t have mattered
if we just moved to the next town.

We needed a fresh start, both of
us.

“
You’re doing a lot of
thinking there.”

I nodded and accepted the inevitable.
“So I come see you once a week and complain about whatever. So how
long do we continue?”

His voice was smooth and even, no sign
of emotion. “That depends.”

“
On what?”

“
How much complaining you
do.” The deadpan way he spoke added humor to even the dullest
things and I wondered how much like his father Robby was. Robby, oh
crap.

“
Please don’t say anything
to Robby.”

“
Doctor-patient privilege,
remember?”

Of course he wouldn’t say anything.
There was actually some sort of an oath or something. “I’m
sorry.”

“
For what?”

“
Let’s see, scoping on your
son, assuming since he was here he had to be a lunatic, insulting
your ability, and anything else I might have done to offend
you.”

“
None taken.” He rose and I
took that as my cue to go. “So same time next week?”

“
I’ll be here.”

He reached across his rather large
desk to shake my hand when I noticed there were two picture frames
on his desk facing him. Even with a bend and reach I couldn’t see
the pictures that had to be of Robby and Doctor Martin’s late wife.
I know it was morbid curiosity, but I wanted to see what she looked
like.

****

“
Do you think Skye is a
good name for her?” I asked my mother as I held up the
kitten.

“
We still don’t know if
it’s a her,” my mother said willing the kitten into the male
gender.

“
If it’s a boy, we could
call him Sir Shitzalot,” I giggled noting the fresh piles in the
litter box.

“
Salem,” the clipped tone
of my mother’s voice displayed her disapproval.
“Language.”

“
That’s not bad, and it’s
so true. In one twenty-four hour period this little beast has
produced it’s own size in crap.”

Mom handed me the pooper-scooper and
smiled, “You’re the one who wanted the pet.”

“
I’m not complaining,” I
reassured her. “Just … amazed. Can we ask the vet if it’s normal to
poop this much? I mean, what if something’s wrong?”

A quick trip to the pound and we were
given a clean bill of health. It also deflated any hopes of having
my own set of kittens. My baby was a boy. Somehow Skye no longer
seemed appropriate even though it was the color of his
eyes.