Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Declan stopped by the local flower shop and bought a bouquet of tiger lilies. He checked his watch—three-forty-five, fifteen minutes to go.

As he parked his van and walked up to 16th Avenue and Centre Street, he thought about how he and Michael had met. It was when Declan had been ejected from the force. He'd been escorted out of the police station by his senior partner Gary Sawchuck, who had stayed by Declan's side as he had cleared out his locker in anticipation of his firing or worse, a potential jail sentence. They'd ended up at Sawchuck's favourite pub far away from the station and it was there that Sawchuck had admitted he had no respect for the cop that Declan had beaten up. After all, the guy was clearly a bigot and had been waiting for a reason to pick a fight with Declan. The guy just hadn't anticipated that Declan's response would leave him so badly injured.

Sawchuck had said that whatever had triggered the rage in Declan—a rage that had resulted in Declan nearly beating the man to death—it had to be dealt with. He had suggested that Declan should seek out the help of a therapist as soon as possible. It would help him with his anger and would also look good to the board of inquiry which would undoubtedly be contacted regarding the incident. Sawchuck had placed a call then and there and arranged for Declan to see Michael.

"I think you'll find you two have a lot in common," he'd said.

Declan wasn't sure if Sawchuck was setting up a therapy session or a date. He should have known better.

Michael, it turned out, was a woman. She specialized in trauma and had treated a lot of cops. Michael's wife had been an officer who was on the drug squad working undercover. She had been killed in a raid and through the process of dealing with her own grief, Michael had told Declan that she'd discovered that she had a gift for comforting her wife's colleagues. She had revealed that it was at that moment that she'd decided to help other cops deal with their trauma.

Declan recalled that during his first session, Michael had told a story about her given name. Her mother had always loved that name for a woman. When Michael had come out of the closet, her mother had been concerned that the name she'd chosen for her daughter had done something to cause her to become a lesbian. It took her a good year to convince her mother that she went lesbian all by herself. The thing about Michael was that she understood how a difficult relationship with a parent could twist someone around for a long time when it came to being gay.

Declan remembered a lot about the early sessions with Michael. He had found her one of the easiest people in the world to talk to. By their third or fourth meeting, he had completely broken down in front of her, something he'd never done before. He was nothing but a puddle of tears talking about his father and the way he could turn Declan into a quivering child just by walking through the door. Michael had given him the tools to control his feelings and with each session, Declan had taken a step closer to leaving his childhood fears behind.

Declan shook himself free of his thoughts, and when he looked up, discovered he was already outside of Michael's building. He opened the door and made his way into the waiting room. Right on time.

Michael poked her head out of her office. "Come on in."

He followed her in and gave her the flowers. "Happy birthday," he said.

"You never forget. Thank you. Now tell me, how come you know my favourite flowers?"

Declan smiled. "You're not the only one who listens during our sessions. I remember you talking about the flowers you had on your wedding day."

Declan sat down on a chair, and waited as Michael poured two glasses of water from a pitcher, put the flowers in the remaining water in the pitcher then set the glasses in front of them. She sat down and referred to her notes.

"So," she started, "have you given any thought to what we talked about last time?"

He shook his head and smiled. "I am fucked," he said. "Charlie knows about you."

"Good," Michael said. "Did you tell him what we discussed on Monday?"

"Not exactly," Declan replied. "He doesn't know who you are, he just knows I'm seeing someone named Michael. He saw your text after our appointment. He made some assumptions."

"So why didn't you clear those assumptions up?"

Declan rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers like he was having a bad headache. "I didn't want him to know I was in therapy. It just opens up a whole conversation I'm not sure I want to have."

Michael took a sip of her water. "A conversation about why you're seeing a therapist, or a conversation about how, on our last visit, you expressed that you were falling in love with him?"

Declan massaged his temples a little faster.

"We're here so you can be honest with yourself and others," Michael said. "So tell me what you're so afraid of? What's the worst that could happen?"

Declan threw up his hands and confessed, "If something happened between us, I could lose him."

"Who, the person you love, or the person who's your employee?"

Declan was nervous when the word ‘love' came up in regards to Charlie. He froze when the word came out of Michael's mouth, then sagged back into the chair and said, "Either."

"Okay. So, maybe you should start a relationship with Charlie and hire another office boy."

"I can't fire Charlie, and I don't want another office boy. Charlie is…perfect."

"Then, I repeat—what are you so afraid of?"

Declan closed his eyes. "That if I admit to him that I'm in love with him and he finds out how fucked up I am, he'll run."

She leaned forward in her chair. "From what you've told me he probably already knows how fucked up you are, and he still seems to want to be with you. Frankly, that has me far more worried about him than you."

Declan laughed.

"And how would you feel if you did nothing and he found someone else? He can't wait for you forever. How do you think it would feel working with him then?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

Declan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"What is it?" she asked.

"What if something happens to him? I mean, something really bad?"

"You mean what happens if he gets hurt or killed?"

"Yes," Declan whispered.

Michael looked towards the flowers. "Charlie could get hit crossing the street, or just wind up in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's nothing you can do to prevent that. He's got to make his own decisions."

She paused until Declan looked up at her. "You can spend your whole life worrying about the worst-case scenario, or you can let both of you make the decision. Too many people miss out on too much life because they're afraid to take a risk. My recommendation—tell him the truth."

Declan closed his eyes again and clenched his lips.

"But that's not what this is about, is it?" Michael asked.

Declan knew what she was getting at, but he wasn't ready to say it.

"I know you well enough to know that you don't run away from anything. That's how you've gotten each and every one of those scars on that body of yours. In fact, you seem to get some weird pleasure out of putting yourself in positions where you get the shit kicked out of you. It seems like you think that if you're in physical pain, you won't have to deal with your emotional pain. Declan, I think for once it's time that you put yourself in the way of being emotionally hurt."

"Emotional hurt is what brought me here in the first place."

"And you've been running from it since you were a child. Time for tough talk. You need to face up to your feelings towards Charlie like the other things you've faced over the years. And if you can't deal with it, then maybe you should consider severing ties before you hurt him. Whatever you decide, the sooner you do something, the better."

Declan stared down at the floor. In his heart, he knew what he had to do.