*
Simon’s Thursday Morning
Simon wasn’t surewhether it was worth trying to go to work today or not. But he didn’t want to appear weak or to even show weakness to himself in any way because that would allow him to sit here and to take another day off, and that was just not acceptable. He still had a life, and he had to make sure he honored that; otherwise he would succumb to these psychic seizures even more often. The more you dove into the avoidance, the more it would take over.
No way he could allow something this all-encompassing, this incapacitating to have that much freedom in his life. The damage would be irreparable, and, even now, he didn’t know what to do about Kate. Last night had been a hell of a talk and a hell of a psychic session, and the fact that she had been the one to find him was both good and bad. Good in that she was all action, and not only had she listened to his plea about not contacting the hospital but she had chosen that as a rational decision. One that she wasn’t comfortable with, but she had made it, and it had been for the best at the time.
She’d also seen him at his weakest, something he was not comfortable with. And something he really didn’t want to have to admit to himself, but, when it was staring him in the face, how could he not? He didn’t even know if she would ever even speak to him again because that one session had been way too far afield for her. Hell, it had been the same for him, but he didn’t get the option of walking away or ignoring it.
There wouldn’t be any of thatclose your eyes and pretend it never happenedscenario for him. Life wasn’t that easy, and it wasn’t that generous. He’d been in too many situations where he’d been forced to shut up and to deal, and this appeared to be another one. On that note, he got out of bed after a shitty night for all. At least he presumed Kate hadn’t had a good night because he sure as hell hadn’t.
He’d thought about contacting her many times since she left last night but held off, deciding to just leave it and to see what she ended up doing. Later he could always try to talk her out of whatever plan she was making. Only so much he could do right now, and it was always better to deal with things face-to-face. How did one explain any of this shit over a damn text anyway?
He got dressed, choosing something a little more casual. He smiled as he pulled on jeans and boots, then grabbed a blazer.
With that, he pocketed his watch and his keys and headed downstairs.
The doorman, Harry, was there. “Good morning, sir.”
Simon nodded and kept on going.
“Sir?”
He stopped, looked at Harry, and asked, “What?”
“Was it okay that I let her up last night?”
Simon heard the anxiousness in the man’s voice because, even though Simon was the one dealing with these issues, he couldn’t forget that there was a ripple effect too. Not only was Kate affected, so was Harry.
“You did the right thing. Thanks, Harry.” At that, he watched the relief wash over the other man’s face. Of course his livelihood was dependent on his job, and his job was dependent on keeping the privacy and protection of the residents. “Thanks again,” Simon said, with a lifted hand, and he walked out.
There’d been that impulse to explain, something he’d promised himself he’d never do. Besides, how would he ever explain anything like this anyway? It was beyond explanation. He left it at that because he could say what he wanted to say until he was blue in the face, but that didn’t mean that anybody would believe him. Particularly not Kate and that hurt even more.
With a groan, he parked her firmly out of his brain, then sending a quiet all-encompassing message to the forces that be to shut up and to stay out of his world today, he set about trying to get control of the chaos that had overtaken his business in the last few days. But first he would start with coffee, finding his favorite vendor.
By the time he’d finished that coffee, plus two more during a couple site visits, followed by the lunch special from one of his favorite little restaurants around the corner from one of the building rehabs he was doing, he started to feel better and more in control. It was much easier to put the night’s events behind him, as time and distance worked to make things more equitable.
As he said goodbye to the foreman at the end of the day, realizing it was ten after five, Simon turned and set out for a long walk home. Somehow he’d ended up down at the end of Hastings Street, not very far away from Stanley Park, which of course led to where the Lions Gate Bridge was located. He frowned at that, since it was still quite a distance, but he shook his head; it was a bad idea, and he needed to stay away at all costs. He’d had enough of this crap. Enough of whatever the hell you wanted to call it, but his feet were doing something all on their own, and they kept walking toward Stanley Park.
“You idiots,” he shouted down at his feet, attracting the attention of people passing by. He shrugged and presumed to carry on, even though he was now forcibly trying to change the direction his feet were taking him. And, when he had zero control over this, and he couldn’t make his feet do anything else, he got seriously worried.
“This isn’t happening,” he said in a hard whisper. “Stop it. This isn’t the way life is. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but knock it off.” More than a few people were looking at him now. He groaned and shut his mouth. At the same time, he pulled out his phone. Stared at it. Kate would probably be off work already, yet there wasn’t anything official she could do to help him. Almost as if she somehow knew he was in trouble again, his phone rang.
“Where are you?” she asked quietly.
“I’m on my way to Stanley Park,” he said, his voice tight.
“Why?” she cried out. “You need to let this go.”
“Do you think I have a choice?” he asked, his voice hard. “I could tell you something right now,” he said, “but you won’t believe it. So don’t even bother calling me. I’ll let you know if and when it’s over.”
And, with that, he hung up. Finally, just letting his feet do the walking, he muttered out loud, “It’d be a hell of a lot faster if we took a cab.” And dammit if a cab didn’t pull up right beside him. He looked at the guy in shock.
“Hey, where you headed? Can I give you a lift?”
“You mean, can I pay you to drive me a little farther?”
He shrugged. “I took you to Lions Gate Bridge a while ago,” he said. “I figured, at the pace you’re going, you’re probably heading to the same place.”