Checked by Jennifer Jamelli Page B

still holding my purse, and he grabs the back of the chair so he can push it to his closet. As he puts the chair away, I briefly wonder if he is serious about it being my chair. How would I know if he is lying? Perhaps I should break into his office during one of his sessions with another patient. I could distract Annie and run down the hallway without anyone noticing.
    Just as the Mission: Impossible theme song gets started in my head, he interrupts.
    “This chair really will be just for you, Calista.”
    So his mind reading isn’t limited to OCD tendencies; he can predict criminal intentions as well.
    He goes on as he moves back to his desk. “The same goes for these medical instruments. I’ll box them up and keep them locked in my closet. Just in case we need to use them again.” He places the box of instruments in his closet and then locks the closet door. Just like he said he would.
    “You are going to have to trust me a little, Calista. Or else this won’t work.” I know he’s right. Whether or not it’ll ever happen, I can’t say, but I know it would be best. I give him my signature nod.
    “Ready to go?” He is standing by the office door.
    “Mmmhmmm,” I murmur before walking past him as he holds the door open yet again. No touching. He gets me through the other two office doors in the same fashion and goes back to turn out the lights after I am already safely outside.
    It’s darker outside now and much chillier. It would be nice to have a sweatshirt. That would have complicated my “appointment,” though. It’s difficult to imagine having to take off a layer of clothing while holding on to my purse and then having nowhere to put the sweatshirt and having to hold it too. I decide to be grateful I didn’t bring a sweatshirt. As for the cold? I can just suck it up.
    He locks the main office door, and we walk to his car. As he is opening the passenger door for me, my cell phone rings. I grab it from my purse after I slide into my seat. It’s Melanie.
    “Hey, Mel. What’s going on?”
    As Melanie starts questioning me about birthday presents for Mom, he gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car. He looks over at me and gives me a face that seems to be asking if it’s okay to start moving. I nod and give him a little smile. Which he returns. And it really is adorable.
    Shit. Melanie must’ve just asked me a question. She seems to be waiting for my response.
    “Um, Mel, I missed that. I must have bad reception right now.”
    “Oh, well, I just wanted to see if Dad called you about getting his present for—wait, you have bad reception? Where are you?”
    Shit. Shit. Shit. I glance over, and he appears to be trying to ignore my conversation. Perhaps that would be a bit easier if the car wasn’t so deathly silent.
    “Um, I am on my way back to campus to pick up my car. I’ll be home soon.”
    “Wait—don’t tell me Mandy finally got you out for a Thirsty Thursday. I never thought that day would come.”
    “Well, it hasn’t. I was doing this, ah, therapy thing.”
    “At 10:30 at night? That sounds more like a date.”
    “No…um…just some prep work for that immersion thing I was telling you about.”
    I glance over at him. His face shows no reaction to my words even though he obviously hears them. This guy’s gotta get an iPod or some CDs or something.
    Melanie isn’t done with her inquiry. “So you are going to go through with this immersion therapy. Do you think you can handle it?”
    “Well, I’m going to try,” I answer honestly. Before she can think up any more questions, I come up with one for her. “What are you up to tonight?” Okay, so I came up with a pathetic question. It still works. Melanie begins lamenting about her latest case and about the fact that she keeps losing evenings with Abby.
    “So you are driving home now?” She knows I hate it when she calls when she is driving. If she crashes, it would essentially be my fault.
    “I am. I just thought I’d