“Janice, good to see you again.” Pat lied.
“May I sit?”
“Of course.” It wasn’t what he wanted, but he was now in a position where professionalism was of the utmost importance.
“This is a great place.” She said, starting in on the small talk.
Pat unintentionally gritted his teeth. “Yes, indeed.”
“I’m glad we got to speak this morning. There has been so much controversy surrounding mental health lately but I think you are doing great things for people. What happened to those people that numbed themselves too much is not your fault.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“So, what are you drinking?”
“Rum and coke.”
Just then, a waitress came by to take Janice’s drink order. She ordered an Irish Coffee.
“What kind of movies do you like?” She asked suddenly.
“Japanese horror.” He took a long sip from his drink, hoping that she would notice his disinterest and leave.
“You’re joking! Me too!”
Pat was skeptical but played along anyway. “Oh, really?”
But when she began listing off several of his favorite movies and describing them in detail, he perked up a little. For the first time in months, he felt engaged in a conversation and intellectually stimulated.
The waitress sat down Janice’s drink and then asked if they wanted food. They both ordered appetizers and proceeded to continue talking about their shared love of movies. Pat was unexpectedly enjoying himself. When the evening was winding down and their food and drinks were nearly gone an intrusive thought came into his head. “Take her home.” The voice didn’t feel like his own but he agreed that’s what he wanted to do.
Looking down slightly he said, “Janice, would you like to get out of here?”
Her eyes sparkled like the gems that they were and she said, “Yes.”
Warning signals were going off in his brain too but they weren’t louder than the screaming or the insistent voice saying, “Take her home. Take her home. She’ll right the wrongs. Take her.”
He drove her to his house and he could tell she was excited by the privilege that this was. She was getting to see The Pat Sherwood’s home. When he had parked, he walked around to the passenger’s side of the car to let her out. Janice giggled as he bowed slightly and offered his elbow to lead her inside.
“Your home is beautiful.” She gushed when they entered the dining room.
“Thanks.”
“Is this your dad?” She asked, pointing to the picture that hung just inside.
The portrait was meant to be unassuming but the distressed wood frame was much larger than average. It was a 10-year-old photo taken just outside by the fence. Pat had been laughing and hanging on his dad’s sweater-covered arm. Owen had suffered from eczema for as long as Pat could remember so he primarily wore sweaters, but it had gotten worse over time. He was a stocky man with shoulder-length black hair and black sparkly eyes that seemed to be amused by a private joke. The glasses that sat firmly on the bridge of his nose were thick, black square frames and he wore a black turtleneck tucked into jeans. He kept things simple because of his OCD. It was easier to manage that way, but Pat was his chaos.
“Yes, it is.”
She smiled fondly at the image for a moment. “I’ve heard a lot about him.” Janice paused and Pat guessed what was coming next. “What happened to your mom?”
Pat never knew how he would react when people asked this question. He had no particular feelings about her, but he was too young to have any memories of her. He was only two years old when she took her own life. His father seemed to be the only one broken up about it.
“She died when I was young.” He said with finality.
Janice’s eyebrows lowered sympathetically and she muttered something about being sorry for his loss. As Pat gazed at her, he began to feel a warmth in his heart. She genuinely seemed sad on his behalf. She was beautiful and seemed very interested in him. It was like his love had returned to him in a new form.
“Show her. Take her to the portal.” The unbidden voice demanded.
“Would you like something to drink?” Pat shuffled into the kitchen and began searching for a glass.
“Water would be great.” Janice said simply, moving on to the next set of portraits on the opposite wall of the dining room.
He filled both glasses under the special tap for filtered water. As he rounded the corner to give Janice a glass, his heart skipped a beat as he saw her fingering a frame that had been hiding behind the china cabinet.
The happy feeling that had been with him was no longer there. There was no comparison between the girl in the photo and this impostor in his dining room. The screaming started up again and the demanding inner voice was yelling instructions at him too fast to be able to follow. Both cups crashed to the floor and the glass spun out all over.
“Take her.”
“Pat!” Janice laid the portrait on the table and hurried to his side, being careful to avoid the large glass shards. She placed an unwelcome hand on his shoulder to try to comfort him. “Are you okay?”
He looked down at the mess and his soaked pant bottoms. Silently, he went to the pantry and grabbed a broom. Janice was still gazing at him intently but she didn’t speak. He allowed her a moment to be uncomfortable before he decided to answer.
“I’m sorry. I have not seen that picture in a long time.” As he swept the accumulated pile of glass into the dustpan, Janice nodded solemnly. Pat figured that to get some peace he would have to be honest. “My late wife, Justice…it still haunts me. It was an accident.”
“Oh, Pat.” She cooed. “How do you handle so much loss?” Pat cringed internally at this. As time went on, she definitely was nothing like Justice.
“Would you like to see where it all happened?” His eyes gleamed.
