CHAPTER 10 Late Trains and Longer Talks
1489 Words
Thursday, December 13, 2018
Thorne Psychiatric Institute
6:41 PM
The session ended quietly.
Not abruptly.
Not neatly either.
The jazz record still played softly as Elena pulled her coat back on near the office door while Adrian returned several files to the shelf behind his desk.
Outside the windows, rain had started again.
Thin at first.
Then heavier.
Blackwater City disappearing beneath another curtain of water.
“You timed that,” Elena muttered.
Adrian glanced toward the storm.
“I have influence over many things. Weather remains difficult.”
“That sounds exactly like something a supervillain would say.”
“I prefer misunderstood intellectual.”
“You own too many expensive coats to qualify.”
A faint shift touched his mouth again.
Not fully a smile.
Close enough to count.
Elena adjusted the strap of her knitted bag carefully over her shoulder.
For a moment neither of them moved.
The room held that strange stillness she had started associating with his office.
Warm lighting.
Low music.
Quiet enough to hear yourself think too clearly.
Dangerous environment honestly.
“I can walk you out,” Adrian said eventually.
“You legally have to say that because this is therapy.”
“I actually don’t.”
“That’s unsettling.”
They moved through the hallway together.
The institute had grown quieter since earlier.
Most office lights now dimmed behind frosted glass while distant footsteps echoed occasionally from farther down the corridor.
Jasmine looked up from the reception desk immediately when they approached.
“There she is.”
Elena narrowed her eyes slightly.
“You greet me like I survived combat.”
“Therapy is combat with furniture.”
“That feels medically irresponsible.”
Jasmine pointed toward the windows dramatically.
“You cannot possibly be taking public transportation in that.”
Rain hammered violently against the glass entrance now.
Streetlights blurred beneath flooding sidewalks outside.
Elena hesitated.
The subway during storms was miserable even on good days.
Crowded platforms.
Wet strangers pressed too close together.
Noise bouncing endlessly off concrete walls.
Her stomach tightened slightly at the thought.
“I’ll survive,” she said.
Adrian reached for his car keys from the reception counter.
“No.”
Elena blinked.
“No?”
“I’m driving you home.”
“That feels expensive.”
“It’s raining.”
“That sentence sounded judgmental somehow.”
Jasmine leaned across the desk.
“Take the ride before he starts pretending this is about professionalism.”
Adrian ignored her completely.
Which probably meant Jasmine was correct.
Elena should have refused.
She knew that immediately.
Normal boundaries already felt blurry enough between them.
Therapists were not supposed to drive patients home after sessions.
Especially therapists who paid for treatment and remembered favorite tea orders and looked at you too carefully when you laughed.
But outside the storm worsened visibly.
And inside the institute remained painfully warm.
Safe in the temporary way hotel lobbies felt safe.
Easy to linger inside too long.
“Okay,” she heard herself say.
Jasmine looked unbearably pleased.
“Excellent. If either of you become emotionally vulnerable in the car, I expect full gossip tomorrow.”
“Elena,” Adrian said calmly as they approached the doors, “you’re still allowed to leave.”
“That sounds vaguely threatening.”
“It was concern.”
“Worse.”
Rain exploded against the umbrella the moment they stepped outside.
Cold wind shoved sharply through Elena’s coat while Adrian guided them quickly across the slick pavement toward a dark sedan parked near the curb.
The city smelled like wet concrete and exhaust fumes.
Thunder rolled faintly overhead.
Elena entered the passenger side carefully trying not to drip water everywhere.
Too late probably.
The interior smelled faintly of cedarwood and leather.
Warm air pushed softly through the vents.
Adrian removed his coat after starting the engine, draping it across the back seat with precise movements that somehow looked expensive.
She hated noticing things like that.
“You look disappointed,” he observed while pulling away from the curb.
“I think your car costs more than my apartment building.”
“That explains the expression.”
Streetlights slid across the windshield in long distorted streaks while rain hammered steadily overhead.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Not uncomfortable silence.
Just quiet.
The kind that settled naturally instead of demanding to be filled.
Elena watched the city pass outside her window.
Closed laundromats.
Crowded bus stops.
Tiny convenience stores glowing beneath flickering neon signs.
Blackwater looked softer in the rain.
Almost forgiving.
“You missed three calls from Mrs. Hargrove today.”
Elena groaned immediately.
“You remembered her name?”
“She threatened legal action over hydrangeas.”
“She threatens everyone over hydrangeas.”
Mrs. Hargrove lived across the hall from Elena and considered hallway noise a personal attack against civilization itself.
Last month she reported teenagers for “walking aggressively.”
Adrian glanced briefly toward her.
“You still helping with groceries?”
“She’s eighty two and terrifying.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Elena sighed quietly.
“She reminds me of someone.”
“Who?”
“No idea.”
That earned another brief silence.
Rain tapped steadily against the windshield.
“She likes you,” Adrian said eventually.
Elena looked horrified.
“No she doesn’t.”
“She gave you peach pie.”
“She said the crust looked better suited for prison.”
“But she gave it to you.”
Unfortunately true.
Elena rested her forehead lightly against the cold window glass.
“She yells less when I carry things upstairs.”
“A powerful friendship.”
“I think we’re one argument away from legally becoming cousins.”
Something low and brief escaped Adrian then.
Not quite laughter.
Real enough to make her turn toward him immediately.
“You laugh weirdly,” she informed him.
“I wasn’t aware there were standards.”
“You sound surprised every time happiness happens.”
He glanced toward her briefly before returning his attention to the road.
“That’s observational.”
Elena smiled despite herself.
Then frowned immediately afterward.
Because smiling here had become too easy lately.
The realization lingered unpleasantly beneath her ribs.
Outside, thunder cracked louder this time.
Her shoulders tightened automatically.
Adrian lowered the radio volume slightly.
Not mentioning it.
Not analyzing it.
Just adjusting.
Again.
The tiny gesture affected her more than it should have.
She looked down at her hands instead.
“You do that constantly.”
“Drive?”
“Notice things.”
A quiet pause followed.
“It’s my profession.”
“No,” Elena murmured softly. “I think it’s just you.”
The words settled heavily inside the car afterward.
Rain.
Engine hum.
Windshield wipers moving rhythmically through darkness.
Adrian remained silent longer than expected.
Elena instantly regretted saying it.
Too personal.
Too honest.
Wonderful.
She opened her mouth to change the subject when Adrian spoke first.
“When I was fourteen,” he said quietly, “my mother fired a piano instructor for calling me difficult.”
Elena blinked.
“What?”
“She said sensitive boys became disappointing men.”
The statement arrived calmly.
Too calmly.
Streetlights passed briefly across his face before disappearing again.
“She sounds exhausting.”
“She was ambitious.”
“That’s a frightening synonym.”
A faint shift touched his expression again.
“But you remember the instructor,” Elena continued carefully.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian’s hands remained steady against the steering wheel.
“Because he argued with her first.”
The answer sat quietly between them.
Small.
Heavy.
Elena looked back toward the rain covered window.
The city blurred softly outside.
People crossing intersections beneath umbrellas.
Restaurants glowing warm against wet sidewalks.
Lives continuing everywhere around them.
“You know,” she murmured eventually, “for someone with multiple degrees, you’re emotionally concerning.”
“That feels unkind.”
“You brought a patient to your family gala.”
“Ah.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The look.”
“What look?”
“The one that says you know something is a bad idea while doing it anyway.”
For the first time all evening Adrian laughed properly.
Short.
Unexpected.
Human enough to pull an answering laugh from her before she could stop it.
The sound filled the car warmly for several brief seconds.
Then faded slowly into softer quiet.
Elena stared down at her lap afterward.
Still smiling faintly.
That unsettled her more than anything else tonight.
Because she could not remember the last time conversation felt this easy.
No rehearsing sentences beforehand.
No panic over pauses.
No fear of sounding wrong every second.
Just talking.
And somewhere inside that realization another thought unfolded quietly behind it.
Maybe this was how loneliness ended.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
Just one person learning your silences until they no longer felt empty.
- Writer
