Unforeseen Dives – 11a – Mending

<< 10b – Coping

I wore a pale pair of pants and matching jacket today. I could not abide dark colors. The warm beige ensemble thrown over a bright cerulean blouse was perfect for my mood. However, it was not so perfect for my face. I felt a hundred percent but I didn’t quite look like it. My complexion and the beige made one bland partnership and the blue made my eyes pop in an ungodly way compared to the rest. A little make up would restore a more appropriate balance.
I started on my hair and finished pinning the upper half of my curls over my crown when the knocking came. I had no make-up on yet but my watch confirmed that I wasn’t late.
I heard the keys turn in the front door’s lock and the visitor stepped in. Seconds later, Rebecca walked in the bathroom with two lattes and stood a few feet from me.
I made the first move. I picked the coffees off her hands to set them on the counter. Then, I hugged her.
We needed that.
She kept her thoughts secured behind a rock-solid mental wall that only telepaths could build. I was sure she didn’t read my mind either while we locked our arms around each other. We needed to be two separate beings for now.
I disengaged from her arms and turned to the mirror to apply powders. My part was done; she would make the next move when ready. I sipped the latte with a huge C on it. Hers wouldn’t have sugar. I drank mine with two.
She grabbed her own cup and sat on the toilet behind me. We could see each other in the mirror. It unsettled me the first time she had silently watched me put on my make-up. I used to think she listened in on my wandering thoughts during these moments. Now, I knew that she didn’t; when she observed me like that, she was completely lost in her own thoughts.
I studied her with a few quick glances while I worked on my face. Her chocolate skin wasn’t as rich as usual but the rest was quite standard. Sleepless eyes, black slacks and a solid color t-shirt combined in an image not unlike mine.
She too chose a blue top.

The relationship Rebecca and I have is peculiar, even by future/mind reader standards. From a non-reader point of view, any partnership in PSI is whacky. Obviously, sharing minds with a person 8 hours a day builds up a certain intimacy. Non-readers originally assumed that it made us dependant on each other.
It doesn’t.
We are used to it. Partners’ bond isn’t any stronger for us than it is for a policeman or an FBI agent. We help each other out and we share some things. If we have to change partner, it requires an acclimatizing phase as for any normal relationship.
That’s why I felt weird when I worked with Daniel. Luckily, I have a flexible persona so I adapt pretty fast.
Rebecca doesn’t.
She is a rock-solid telepath all the way through. It took a month for her to warm up to me. Now that she had, she’d be loyal to the death. There is no halfway with her. I often wondered it was a side effect of the army training.
Her current assignment is to protect me. Two days ago, she failed. I know of only three other times when she came up short. Two involved me. She doesn’t take failure lightly. Hence, this morning awkward ballet.

I was finishing up with my mascara when she finally spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
She needed to say it. I turned around and leaned against the counter.
“It worked out all right.”
No telepathic skills were required to know what was going on in her head. We had played this scene a couple of times before and we both knew most of the lines. Yet some things must be affirmed with the weights of words. They make the ideas more tangible.
“If Daniel hadn’t been there, I’d be at your funeral today.”
“But he was. Don’t beat yourself over something that could have happened.”
“I gave in, Cassidy. You didn’t.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. Every time I shattered, I gave in. You put be back together.”
“Not the last time.”
She threw her empty cup of coffee in the garbage with a fair dose of rudeness. Her empty hands curled into fists. She had been scared for me but wouldn’t admit it. She doesn’t handle fear very well. She always hides it with violence.
“I wouldn’t have made it half that far without you and you know it. News flash: you are human. It gives you the right to a mistake now and then.”
“You’re right but it doesn’t change the fact that this particular mistake could have been fatal for you.”
“And I guess Martin would have done better?”
Martin was the second best telepath of the office. Rebecca was first.
“Oh please! Don’t insult me.”
“Don’t insult yourself.”
She looked at me with wide eyes. Since she never read my mind at times like these, I could still surprise her.
“Come on. Self-flagellation isn’t sexy.”
She huffed in response.
“I’m not asking for a replacement and you’re not quitting. Get over it. If you keep acting like a stubborn child, I’ll sing Sunday school forgiveness songs in my head all day.”
The first time I made this threat, two years ago, she hadn’t believed me. When I started running the same two or three songs in loops in my head, she thought I’d grow tired of it first. After three hours of cheesiness beamed straight into her consciousness, she had finally surrendered.
“Alright! I’m sorry.”
“And I forgive you. End of discussion.”
With that and a splash of perfume, we finally headed downstairs.

11b – Mending >>