Unexpectedly, Milo - Matthew Dicks [76]
chapter 19
Milo wasn’t sure if Christine would show up to their next appointment. He was sitting in Dr. Teagan’s waiting room on Wednesday afternoon, holding the same Highlights magazine from which he had removed the poem a week before, wondering if his wife would even call if she planned on not showing. They had not spoken since the incident outside the house two days ago, and his half dozen phone calls over the last twenty-four hours to the house and her cell phone had gone unanswered.
Though he couldn’t imagine leaving the state without telling Christine of his plans, a small part of him, the part that dreaded confrontation, hoped that Christine would not show. Any discussion of Freckles, and especially an explanation of his intent to help her, would undoubtedly anger her to an even greater degree. And an hour to talk to Dr. Teagan about his plans, confirm his suspicions, and attempt to obtain his therapist’s approval of his impending journey appealed to Milo a great deal. He had called Andy the night before to tell him about Freckles and Tess Bryson, but about thirty seconds into their conversation, he had decided against it. To discuss Freckles, even with his best friend, felt like violating a trust that he had established with the woman. Andy would ask for details, would want to know everything, and would be annoyed when Milo refused. His frustration would not reach the level of Christine’s, Milo was sure, but it would be enough to make things uncomfortable between the two men for at least a while. Milo reasoned that unless they had watched the tapes, it was impossible for most people to understand the level of privacy involved in the situation.
He thought, however, that Dr. Teagan might.
It was almost ten minutes after their assigned appointment time, and Milo’s hopes that Christine would not show were growing when Dr. Teagan emerged from behind the waiting room door, smiled, and asked for Milo to step in. He followed the doctor down a short hallway and then turned left into the office that he and Christine had occupied a week ago, a time when things seemed simpler and more hopeful than they did now.
Sitting beside Dr. Teagan’s indoor plants, in the same seat that she had been sitting in a week ago, was Christine, arms crossed, glaring at Milo.
Milo stood for a moment in shock, trying to process the meaning of the situation.
How long had she been sitting there?
Had she come in a back door?
Why hadn’t she met Milo in the waiting room?
Something, perhaps Christine’s posture, the arch of her eyebrows, or maybe the way her right foot was gently but impatiently tapping on the carpet, told him that she had been there for a while. But why?
Milo had been standing in the doorway, staring at his wife for half a minute, before Dr. Teagan finally suggested that he take a seat beside Christine. He did, finding the position of the chair in relationship to his wife frustrating in that it did not allow him to see the look on her face without turning and staring. He suddenly felt ambushed and unable to gather information. Alone and outnumbered. To calm himself, he focused on the doctor, who took a seat beside his desk and began.
“Milo, I know you’re surprised to see Christine here, but she called me on Monday morning and asked to talk before we all got together this afternoon. It’s not uncommon, and given the circumstances involved, I thought it was a good idea. Christine, would you like to explain what we’ve been talking about to Milo?”
“I don’t understand,” Milo interjected. “What circumstances?”
“You scared the shit out of me, Milo. How did you think I would feel, having cops come to my door and tell me that my husband is sitting in his car outside the house, watching me?”
“C’mon, Christine. You know me. Do you really think I’m some kind of stalker? You know why I was there.”
“No, I don’t,” Christine shot back. “How long have