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Huh, another contradiction.
Once the kettle whistled, she finished her concoction and faced me. “So, what are your ideas?” She took a sip, her hair and mug hiding her features, only her eyes visible over the mug.
Without softening my voice, I blurted, “I think you need to see someone.”
Davina almost spit her coffee back into the mug. Her throat bobbed, swallowing the liquid.
With lips twisted, her tone turned defensive as she murmured, “You think I’m crazy?”
“Many people see a therapist, it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. It means we all need some kind of guidance in our daily lives to cope and understand our own mind.”
“Do you see someone, Novak?” Her brow lifted, already knowing the answer.
How could I explain my life was more complex and darker than the everyday cop? I was that one bad apple in the precinct that could stain the reputation of the whole force by just the name of my two eldest brothers.
“It’s complicated,” I replied. Her posture asked for me to continue, to explain, but as I stared into her dark eyes with my mouth sealed, she gave up with a head shake. “But I can take you, I’ll make sure you are safe, and there’s no record or trace to follow.”
With her eyes on her mug, she said, “I noticed you knew my name without me mentioning it before.” Her lashes fluttered as her eyes rose to meet mine. “My real first name, not the one I was asked to give by your superior. But do you know my last name, Novak?” Our eyes stayed locked, and while hers hardened and aged before me, mine only sought answers I desperately wished to know, but she held them in her lips. “You don’t.” She placed her mug on the bar, not letting my eyes go. “Then what makes you think I could speak freely to someone about my troubles when I can’t even say as much as my last name?”
She left me speechless, immobile to say the least as her gaze trapped me in her despair.
“I still think opening up will help ease the pain you so clearly suffer from.”
“It’s not an option.”
“Why?” I fished for at least a bit of information she may slip, but she’s smarter.
“Tell me, Novak. What do you think you know about me? For example, I know you are very perceptive and notice things, details. So, what have you come up with?”
So are you, Davina.
“By the way you are hidden and the information given, I know it’s a fact your life is in danger. I don’t know anything else, but…”
“But?” she urged on, leaning closer to the bar.
The way you hide with your hair and big clothes are a cry of your insecurity. Every time I’d see you, your eyes are puffy, and I’m sure you cry yourself to sleep, but after a few hours they return to their regular size filled with hope. No, not hope. Despair, as you wait for what you are running from. It makes me want to hug you and tell you it’ll all be okay, so once again you can have hope for humankind. You also twist the ends of your hair when you are deep in thought, which happens many times as you often get lost in the past and present. I notice the way your chest quickly rises and falls when I get close to you, but is it due to fear of me? Or fear for me? If so, why? You also take a step back every time I take one closer to you, are you afraid of men? Maybe you are afraid of me.
I could see so much but not the right things. Instead, I replied, “You wear warm clothes, although Florida is not cold during winter, which makes me believe you’re not from the north. You use your hair to hide behind, but it’s a failure as your face is something to remember. You want to stand up and be strong, but you use reckless and unrealistic tactics to see another day.” Davina’s posture stiffened and her arms crossed as I continued on, “The dark circles under your eyes talk about your sleepless nights, and the light hollows of your cheeks tell the many meals you’ve skipped.” Her cheeks flushed, and her chest rose with every word. “Maybe nightmares haunt you, maybe you’ve lost your appetite from what you’ve experienced. Hell, it could be the anxiety crawling in your bloodstream, making you jump at every sound inside an empty house, or—”
“That’s enough,” the empty and broken tone whispered through the air.
“What? Am I hitting a nerve?”
“No.”
“I think I am,” I dig.
“I think you are stepping too far,” Davina's voice rose.
“How far? Because I can keep going.”
“I said, it’s enough,” she seethed.
“I am right. Right?”
“No.”
“Please, even your broken reply speaks the truth.”
