“If you were a color, what color would you be?” Dr. Carver sat behind Bethany in his leather executive’s chair twisting the gold band on his ring finger before curling his hands over his Mac keyboard, ready to type.
Bethany sat up and turned to look at him. “You people really ask questions like that?” After a short pause she added, “You’re doing that annoying psychiatrist thing — never responding, only listening.”
She looked at his shirt and tie, both were wrinkled and stained. “I’m pretty sure you wore that last Wednesday,” she accused, but the doctor wasn’t taking the bait. His coarse dark hair needed taming and his five o’clock shadow had turned to near-beard overnight. “And what’s with the glasses, Dr. C? Too hungover for contacts this morning?” It had certainly been a rough night for Jamie Carver.
“Chartreuse,” Bethany said after a dramatic sigh. Bethany twisted the drawstring of her hoodie around her index finger. “That’s lemon Pledge isn’t it?” she asked. “Didn’t you leave your cleaning staff that note for me? You know I can’t stand the smell of lemon Pledge.”
Dr. Carver looked at his watch and shifted his weight. Loosening his tie, he cleared his throat. Aside from a few detached questions, it was the only noise he’d made in the last forty-five minutes. Bethany faced forward again and the room was silent except for the faint ring of a telephone out in reception. Bethany took the Chapstick from her pocket. She covered her lips and then smacked them together loudly. “You know. Chartreuse. Because it’s difficult to spell. I’ve been told I am difficult. Would you believe?” she giggled. “But please don’t put that in your notes. I saw that Seinfeld episode. Elaine was pretty much ruined after that.”