Darren Effect by Libby Creelman Read Free Book Online Page B

pretending it was a great effort so that she grinned, then he picked up one of her legs and placed it across his own.
    â€œNow then, missus,” he said. “Who was on the roster this week?”
    It was not appropriate to tell him details of her clients’ lives, but Heather was rarely interested in denying Benny anything. What’s more, it was difficult to resist the way he listened — his soft attraction to her.
    She considered her week, the clients she’d seen. She recalled her last appointment on Friday with a sinking feeling.
    â€œWhat is it?” Benny asked.
    â€œRosemarie,” she said. “I’ve been seeing her for months. Yesterday I sent her back to her psychiatrist.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œShe needs someone who can write a prescription.” She laughed, but it wasn’t funny. She looked at Benny. “For a serotonin re-uptake inhibitor.”
    Three couples — a crowd for this time of year — were coming down to the beach. Seeing them, Inky began to dig frantically in the sand for his ball, then ran off to greet them. Heather thought it was unlikely she’d see Rosemarie again.
    â€œYou can’t save everyone,” Benny told her. He glanced at the people and slowly pulled his leg out from under hers and created a few inches of space between them. Heather didn’t think itwould make any difference. Anyone looking at them would know.
    â€œWhat’s Rosemarie’s problem?” Benny asked. “What’s wrong with her?”
    There was nothing
wrong
with her. But Heather didn’t say this. “She’s obsessive-compulsive.”
    He nodded.
    â€œShe has an elaborate counting routine.”
    â€œWhat does she count?”
    â€œBenny.”
    â€œTell me. Come on, I want to know everything.”
    â€œIt’s not
what
she counts.”
    Rosemarie did everything in threes, Heather explained, because she had three children. Three candy bars, three cups of tea, that sort of thing. If she had two children, she would do things in twos.
    â€œBut recently,” Heather said, “her behaviour patterns have become more elaborate. Her children are aged two, four and eight. So she selects the second box of cereal from the grocery shelf. Then the fourth bottle of ketchup. Then the eighth carton of eggs. It’s complicated and time-consuming.”
    â€œWhy does she do that?”
    â€œShe thinks something horrendous will happen to her children if she doesn’t.”
    â€œThat’s crazy.”
    Benny’s expression was astonished and childlike. She wanted to touch him, reassure him, but there were those inches of space between them. Was he thinking of his son? Was he feeling guilty? Not knowing what was going through his head made her nervous.
    Inky was barking at the people. He wanted them to throw his ball. One of the women looked over.
    â€œBetter call Inky,” Heather said.
    Benny half rose and shouted for the dog, but immediately turned back to Heather. He was like that: he would not dropsomething that interested him. He would not allow interruptions. Heather thought it was admirable, but intimidating.
    â€œWhat can you do for someone like that?” he asked.
    â€œI treated her.” Heather tried to sound matter-of-fact, as though there had been some hope. But Heather had never believed she’d be able to help Rosemarie in any permanent way. She didn’t tell Benny about her sour smell, her shapeless cords, the sweatshirt with the yellow — possibly curry — stains below the collar.
    â€œShe sat in my office and I had her drink
one
glass of juice, eat
one
candy bar. The most important thing was for her to get some sleep. Her routines can delay her bedtime considerably.”
    â€œWhat about her kids?”
    His question made her feel tender towards him. “I believe they are quite safe.”
    â€œIs there a husband?”
    Heather had not met the husband, though she