Day 19 - Could She Tell?

Could She Tell? 

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Something in her eyes changed. He didn’t know what happened, but he could see the change in an instant. She touched his arm and then looked him in the eyes. She hid it, or at least tried to. That was a skill in and of itself. She must have experienced something like this before and had practice hiding her thoughts. Good for her; dangerous for him. No matter her talent, she had slipped, holding her breath and registering the moment. Just for a second, just long enough for him to see. But could she see that he saw, and if she saw his change, did she know what it meant? He wasn’t sure. How could he be? There was no way to know.  

He had to make a choice. He had to decide quickly. To do nothing might assuage her fears and they could both go about their business and enjoy their futures apart. Or it might give her time to hatch her own plan and bring about his downfall. But that was only if she knew. To do nothing was to risk it all, but there would be the one shot that nothing extra would have to occur and he wouldn’t be committed to some violent or horrible task. To do something would all but guarantee some version of something horrible. To him, to her, depending on what he did and if she anticipated it and how poorly things went in either of their favor.

He should ask her something. Get a clue and figure it out. But what could he ask without tipping her off?

“You seem…” he slowly began. Talented… empathic... perceptive… None of those seemed right. “You must get tired, seeing so many clients.”

“I used to try to fit in as many per day as possible. I liked helping people. I needed the money.”

“But now?”

“Now I like to take more time for myself.”

“But you’ve seen some things.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Injuries. Scars. Strange tattoos. You’ve probably met a lot of strange people.”

“I like to help people. But I guess, sure, I see a lot with a job like this.”

She said it. He knew it. She saw a lot. She flat out told him. He had to do something now. She was a threat.

“But really, people who come here are looking for something. I deal with their pain, but I’m a healer. I treat what needs to be treated. And there’s an intimacy to that, but for it to work, people have to trust me. They put their trust in me, trust that I am trustworthy.”

Trust. Could he trust her? If she was telling him she knew, she was also telling him it was a secret and secrets stayed secret. Was that trust? Walk away. Neither does anything?

“The hour is almost up. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded.

“Take your time. I’ll leave the room and you can get dressed.”

She moved towards the door.

If he was going to stop her, he had to do it now. If he let her walk out, no telling where she’d go or what she’d do. He could get dressed and she could call the cops. He might get out of there, but they’d be on their way.

But this was her trusting him. She was leaving. Leaving him alone. Telling him that she was going to leave him alone. All he had to do was play along and let her walk away. Walk away and they’d both be okay.

No one was at the front desk as he exited the massage parlor. He didn’t slow down as he crossed the parking lot. No telling whose eyes were on him, or who was on their way. He had to move. He couldn’t look back. It was a shame; his shoulder felt better than it had in years. Under different circumstances he would have wanted to come back for more treatments. But he couldn’t risk it. He could never be sure about her or what she had seen that made her look so frightened for that millisecond. It was more important to be safe. He could suffer through an ailment or two, never knowing what he had or hadn’t avoided. The nagging feeling of what might have been.