Unforeseen Dives – 11b – Mending

<< 11a – Mending

We reached the front door, arm in arm. The conversation was back to its natural flow in our heads. We never stayed closed to each other for too long. Once Rebecca had probed my mental state and found it satisfyingly stable, her guilt finished its descent into oblivion. I headed for the kitchen to fix my lunch but she pulled me the other way beaming that we were heading out of the office for our break – her treat.
“Hmmm. Maybe the guilt isn’t all gone after all, I thought.”
“Hey, I heard that!”
“Deal with it. Any thing you forced onto yourself while I was out?”
She thought “no” but something else flashed through her mind.
“Tell me.”
“I might have completed all our paperwork to ensure a slow day today.”
I sighed. She didn’t have to do that but I was thankful; paperwork was a pain.
Since I was on the wrong side of our two-headed monster, she grabbed my purse and swung it my way. In a fluid extension, I stuck my arm through the strap and opened the door while she adjusted my purse on my shoulder. Two heads helped in multitasking and economic movement.
“I see you’re back to normal again. Thank God.”
Sean got out of the car. His shaved head glimmered in the morning light. He couldn’t bear the hair loss that started very early. He opted to equalize his head with the smaller common denominator. It emphasized his voluntary nose but his eyes’ kindness belied the roughish exterior.
Rebecca and I disengaged so she could lock the door with her key while I hugged her husband. We shared the same happiness to see each other. I really appreciated Sean. He was a good husband to Becky and they matched each other’s stubbornness. Neither of them was mischievous, except toward each other.
“I’m really glad you’re okay, he said as he released me. Rebecca was so worried, she killed the punching bag.”
“I did not! The hook gave in and the bag fell.”
“And you kicked it while it was down. It’s dead.”
Becky scoffed. Sean winked at me while he opened my door. Once I sat in the back, he did the same for his wife and they exchanged a quick kiss.
“Since I’m such a violent person, I’ll ride in the back with Cass.”
Rebecca said it out loud for my benefice. They obviously didn’t need to speak to each other. That helped communication in telepathic couples a lot. If none of the partners tried to hide something, that is. Human/telepath couples were very rare because of that reason: one of the party could lie, the other couldn’t.
Becky went around the car to sit behind the driver’s seat. Sean took the helm.
“That suit looks really good on you, Sean. Is it new?”
Rebecca brushed my hand long enough to broadcast one phrase: “You so shouldn’t have said that!”
“It is, in fact. Remember that job interview I went to a few weeks ago?”
“You got the FBI job?”
“Yes ma’am!”
“Congratulations, Sean! We’ll have to throw a small diner party.”
“If you insist…”
I didn’t need to insist at all. He was prouder than a peacock. And with good reasons! Sean worked for the local police department as an interrogation assistant – basically, a human lie detector doubled with a psychiatrist degree. The telepaths filling this type of position were unable to handle the emotional weight of working with a psychic at PSI, yet they wanted to put their gifts to the service of the country.
Though I never felt that the difference in job prestige affected the relationship between Becky and Sean, his promotion to the FBI certainly levelled their careers.
“Do you know your first assignment?”
“Yes.”
“Do we have clearance?”
“Yes.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
He smirked my way in the rear view mirror.
“You have no idea what a pain he has been, Rebecca beamed through our touching hands.”
“I’ll be assisting in the psychological evaluation of Wayne Dowson.”
“Really? The tint is gone?” That was good news. Wayne had been an excellent agent before the whole serial murder dive. He deserved to get his life back. Moreover, the psychic community would know it was possible to recover from that kind of mental breakdown.
“That’s what a non-reader psychiatrist and I are going to find out.”
Rebecca cut off our conversation with a mental conference.
“Hey Square, said Casey perky voice. Your keys are in your locker. It’s nice to see sunshine in your head again.”
I thanked him and Rebecca released my hand. Obviously, my two friends wanted to discuss my health without me listening. That would explain why Casey didn’t call my cell phone instead of going through Becky.
I resumed my chitchat with Sean until we reached the office. 

It took us a while to actually reach our desk after Sean drop us at PSI. The bombing story had gone around the building and a lot of people wanted to congratulate us and offer their support. Most psychics gave me a meadow cranesbill and a laurel.
In the traditional, non-reader language of flowers, the purple species of geranium means constancy and availability. Purple is the symbol of psychic ability. The laurel is success. To us, the pairing of the two has a very specific meaning: “Your unwavering strength and devotion to the Ocean brought on a better world. May we be inspired by your acts.”
In my locker, my key ring was around blooming rosemary; constancy, fidelity and loyalty. Purple. And Casey’s perfume. He never missed an occasion to be a charmer. It would sick out in the middle of the bouquet that was building up in my arm with each new coworker passing by.
Daniel’s gift sat on my desk. It was a huge flower vase.
“I though it would be useful, said the accompanying note. You did an amazing job and it was an honour to support you through it.”
Rebecca picked up another note on our desk while I set my flowers in the vase.
“Well that sounds ominous.”
I lifted my head to meet her eyes, a questioning arch in my eyebrow.
“Apparently, we are expected to hurry to Aaron’s office as soon as we get this note.”

12a – Meeting >>