Chapter Twelve #2
After my call with Austin ended, I realize I still have no idea where Mia is.
I text him to ask, and after some cajoling on my part and some futile resistance on his—something about breaking girl code where I had to remind him; he is not, in fact, a girl—he sent the message.
The weather is terrible in Austin, but I hear it’s nice in Berry Brook.
She has gone to her mother's. And despite the woman who on every occasion I’ve met her has proven to be a wonderful person, she failed to mention that piece of information when I called her.
So I was at the airport on a last-minute flight to Dallas, for what? I still didn’t know. I only know that my legs are moving and they are compelled to get to the gate as soon as humanly possible.
The self-preservation I have doesn’t reach my legs even if my momentum is starting to wane. It’s as if my body is urging me to think about the consequences of storming her family home to demand she return to Seattle.
As I watched the board tick over from Await Gate Information to Gate Boarding, I sigh. What the fuck am I doing?
I pull out my phone and call my brother.
“As I live and breathe, the great Dr. Angel has called me. ME. I don’t know how I got to this moment, but I’d like to take the time to thank my mother for all her hard work and appreciation. To my absentee father, who without, I never would have had a point to pro—"
“Alright, alright. Enough Theodore,” I snap.
“Jeez, man, you sound just like Dad.”
My head jerks up, and I tighten the grip I have on my phone. I’ve had more than one thought recently that I was becoming like my father, and yet hearing Teddy say it sent me floundering.
Haven’t I been working all this time to avoid becoming like him? And in the last few weeks I’ve seen him in the mirror more than my own reflection. It’s like I’m heading down a path of no return, and I don’t know how to get back on track to who I’m supposed to be. The man I want to be.
The pause before my response must indicate to Teddy that I’m upset because he quickly apologizes and I change the subject.
“How are you, Teddy?”
“All okay here. Just pushing through and prepping for playoffs. You know how it is.”
I didn't, but that’s okay. Despite growing up watching hockey, team sports just aren’t my thing.
But Teddy has always been a people person.
He’s in the thick of it, the life and soul of a party, whilst I liked to watch, catalogue and report my findings.
Despite that, skating was in my blood. Mom had taken us to the rink to run off some of our energy when we were kids, and it had worked.
Teddy fell in love with the sport, whereas I felt a sense of calm when I was on the ice.
Cool, frozen, formidable. Until Teddy would come barreling into me claiming he was practicing to become an enforcer.
“Of course, how’s the shoulder?” I remember Alexei, the creator of the Scooby Snack, mentioning that Teddy had hurt himself. I still hadn’t checked in about that until now.
His voice hitches a little before answering. “Better. The team doctor got me all sorted out. Between her and the physio, I’m in the best shape of my life.”
I have no doubt. He is the top scorer for the Seattle Grizzlies. He is at the absolute peak of his performance with no sign of slowing down, despite being a seasoned veteran by now, all at the ripe age of thirty-two.
“Good, good. I’ll have to come to a game this season.”
“You say that every season, man. You know I always keep a ticket at the door for you. You’ve just gotta come and pick it up.”
I grunt, knowing I probably won't. There’s always a reason not to. A patient, research, a business opportunity. Always an excuse, just like Dad used to do.
“I’ll make it this year,” I promise, although the value of my words feels less and less the last few years.
“So what's up? I’m guessing you didn’t call just to talk hockey? Are you having girl trouble?” He laughs.
I pause, and his laugh booms through the phone. Thank God he can’t see me right now. I rarely embarrass, but siblings really do know how to draw it out of you.
“Please tell me it’s your office manager? She’s smoking hot. What’s her name again?”
“Don’t talk about her like that and her name is Mia,” I grit out painfully, knowing I’m only playing into his hands. I don’t care. The need to defend Mia is more important than my pride.
“Oof, okay man, no harm intended. What’s the issue?”
“Please try to control yourself when I tell you this.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I had an altercation with a patient. Mia was there. The police turned up and assumed we were together, and I didn’t correct them. The police report got leaked, and social media has been a shitstorm—"
“Alfie, I’m gonna save you some time by saying I’ve seen it all. Mom told me right after she asked me how my orgy was by showing me a photo of me and three women going into a hotel room.”
“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten to mention she knows about that.”
“Next time, remember I’m your brother and warn me, dammit. I didn’t know what to say.”
“Well, how was it?” I ask, eager to level the playing field on embarrassing topics of conversation.
“The orgy?”
“Yeah,” I scoff, remembering that Teddy’s prefrontal cortex is likely severely damaged, he’s suffered one too many pucks to the head and therefore feels distinctively less shame than the rest of us. Or maybe he’s just an ass.
“Unreal…one of the girls, Indigo, does this thing with her tongue and I’m telling you, she licks everywhere. A pioneer of the age, that one.”
Christ, why did I ask?
“Anyway…so you know about the TV show segment where I announced we’re dating?
“Uh huh.”
“Well, I think the ‘receptionist’ comment humiliated her because she’s just about to qualify as a psychologist, and maybe she thinks I’ve hurt her chances at that by declaring that she’s only my receptionist.”
“Alfie…”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
Jesus. Doesn’t he realize I already know that?
“I’m aware that romantic relationships, when they pertain to me, aren’t always my strong suit.
But she’s hard to read. She masks her emotions.
Or at least she did up until last week. She absolutely ripped into me.
I mean, I'm pretty sure my dick shriveled up, and it’s still too scared to come out, Ted. ”
“Too much visual, brother. Even for me.”
“Noted. But besides the point, she’s left the city. A mutual friend hinted that she’s back in Texas with her family.”
“So when are you going after her?”
After her? Why would I go after my office manager/business manager/receptionist because, YES she is also technically my receptionist? The thought comes as the board with the gate information ticks over to the color red. As if to say, warning you idiot, your flight is leaving, so hurry the fuck up.
“No. I’m not going to fly to Dallas and cause a scene in front of her family. Why would I go after her?”
“God, you’re dense.”
Sighing, I rub my face with my free hand, digging my knuckle into my eye socket.
My eye fuzzes over, and I blink a few times to clear the haze.
I walk toward the gate, and once I reach it, I see the last few passengers boarding.
I don’t know why I don’t want to tell Teddy I’m already at the airport.
He’s my brother, and I know he’ll support me whatever I do.
“Explain it to me like I’m dense then.”
“Do you like her?”
“Of course I like her.”
“Do you like her romantically?”
“I…it doesn’t matter if I did. She works for me, and I don't have time for a girlfriend.”
“Who doesn’t have time for a girlfriend?” He tuts. “You’re Dr. Angel, TV personality, and successful psychologist with a waiting list as long as your leg. Ease up a bit and enjoy your life, man. You’re gonna end up as lonely and miserable as Dad is.”
“I don’t have time for anything romantic. I just want her back, for the business.”
“And what does she want?”
Why does everyone keep asking me that?
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should ask her. Because if she’s gone back home, then I think you’ve got your answer.”
I grunt. My brother is useless.
“So I should just go and speak to her then?”
“Depends how much you want her back. But my guess, she’s gonna call you within the week to say she’s not coming back. You’re gonna wanna prevent that from happening. Because you won't be able to change her mind if she’s living in Texas. She’ll already be gone.”
Fuck.
My eyes dart between my watch and the flight attendant talking into the little microphone to announce they are closing the gate and I freeze.
I always know what to do. I always have a plan.
And if I don’t, I make one. But there doesn’t seem to be a correct course of action here.
I don’t have enough information to make an informed decision.
So I freeze, like a fucking possum wheezing and waiting for a predator to move along, eyes wide and frantic.
“Hey, Alfie,” my brother says softly. “Get on the flight. They’ve been calling Last Call for five minutes.”