"Like hell," Max's response came with quick disgust. "I'm done with this discussion." He rose from the couch and headed for the door. "After all these years," he turned around before heading out of the office, "I can't believe you'd think that of me."

The door slammed shut. Roden just sat in his armchair staring at the void where his friend and patient had been only seconds before. After a moment, the door slowly reopened a crack and Martha popped her head in. "Is everything okay, Doc?"

"Ah," Roden came out of his stupor, a headache starting to form in the back of his head. "Yeah, Martha, just fine. We just had a very emotional session, that's all."

Martha looked a bit puzzled and disbelieving, but she started to close the door. "Martha," Roden spoke up just then, "Could you get me Max Esther's charts? I think I want to review them."

"Certainly."

CHAPTER FIVE

Two weeks after the naked art horror, Ess walked out of the McKnight Building on 51st street and Jackson, where her job practically incarcerated her for ten hours a day, five days a week. It was Friday afternoon, and she strode with a feeling of exhilaration coursing through her veins and tickling her nerve endings. This exuberance seemed a strange sensation, and it made her laugh. She hadn't felt so giddy to start the weekend since college.

Not that she had any plans for the weekend, but she had felt out of sorts for a while, and needed the free time to really unwind. She had a few neglected books piling up on her coffee table that were making her feel guilty; and there was supposed to be a documentary on Saturday evening on the Peloponnesian Peninsula. After the Greek history class she had taken in college – which felt like forever ago now – she developed a keen interest in the ancient country, and was determined that she would visit someday. Of course, unless she could convince Jill or tolerate Manda to go with her, she would have to find a more suitable, and preferably male, companion to accompany her. Until then, she had to content herself with documentaries.

Typically, the weekends were saved for running errands, paying bills and whatever other personal tasks she didn't have time for during her workweek. This weekend, though, she decided to dedicate as a recuperation weekend. She had motivated herself and put extra effort in the last few days after work to get anything and everything accomplished that she would have otherwise put off for the weekend. All she had left to do was to stop at the market to re-stock her food supply. She guiltily recalled that she was out of ice cream . . . again. Exercise would definitely have to be stepped up on her agenda. The block and a half walk to and from the light rail station near her home could not possibly counteract her recent increase in ice cream consumption.

At least this evening she would have to get off the rail one stop early so that she could hit the market before getting to her apartment. That meant she would walk a whole three blocks loaded down with grocery bags. Still, she knew that wouldn't be enough. Ess had to face the reality. Birthday's no longer meant getting wiser and gaining privileges, they meant getting older and gaining body mass; and her mother used to warn her time and again that with age goes metabolism – meaning it goes much slower. She probably should start listening pretty soon.

Ess reached the light rail station just in time to make the current rail car. As usual, it was full at this point in the city, so she grabbed a pole and planted her feet, ready for the jolt when the car began to move. Most passengers would get off at the next stop by the mall where there were clusters of restaurants, so she felt sure she should be able to take a seat then.

The discomfort Ess had felt last week, when she thought people were looking at her and recognizing her face from a certain scandalous sculpture hadn't completely subsided, but it no longer felt as intense. She did still glance around her on occasion to make sure no one was giving her undo notice. All too often, though, she held eye contact with strangers a moment longer than comfortable, and her confidence wavered.

One gentleman in particular made eye contact with her more than once on the rail car, and she couldn't help but continually glance back in his direction. The contact became an ongoing cycle that made her more and more self-conscious each time. She felt herself blushing a little, and knew that she better refrain from looking his way again, because her blushes caused her cheeks to become bright red blotches. Very noticeable and obvious, and extremely embarrassing.

Soon enough, the next station came, and people started to get off the car. Having been extremely full when she got on, though, the stop did not free up as many seats as expected. The seat next to the gentleman had vacated, but she felt too awkward to take it. Having passed so many glances with him already, he might take it as advancement. Manda or Lisa would have found it to be a perfect opportunity to hone in on their next boyfriend (or, more appropriately, prey); but Ess always felt a little too introverted to be so forward. So, she just continued to clutch the pole and focused her stare out the window as the light rail began its next course.

Her stop came a few minutes later, and she departed with several other people. One last time, as she turned towards the exit, she unintentionally made eye contact with the same gentleman, and noticed that he had risen from his seat. Apparently, he was getting off at the same stop. Ess took this moment to think if she had ever seen him before. Maybe he was new to the area, and she would come across him again. That wouldn't be so bad. Eventually, she might work up the courage to start a conversation with him.

He looked sort of cute, with his brown eyes and short dark hair. The few wispy bangs that came down over his forehead gave him kind of a charming look. He wore slacks and a tie under his well-made trench coat, so he must be a businessman of some sort. That notion had promise, since it suggested success. It did seem a bit odd, though, that he wore the trench coat on a fairly warm September day. That certainly couldn't feel comfortable.

She walked on, thinking about smiling at him the next time they made eye contact, if there was a next time, of course. She didn't see which way he went, and didn't dare to look. If she appeared to look at him too much, she might encourage him to approach her, and she wasn't feeling poised enough for that right now. Or worse, she decided, he might not actually be interested, and she could give him a bad impression. The thought of rejection discouraged her further and made her stomach sink slightly.

Fortunately, it didn't take Ess's mind long to trail off towards another subject. She made a mental list of needed grocery items as she walked into the corner market. After grabbing a basket, she headed for the produce isle, her strategy always simple and routine: produce to meat to frozen foods and dairy, with a careful avoidance of the snack food isle.

As she made her way to the frozen foods to stock up on her microwaveable meals, her eyes happened to make contact with the same man she noticed in the light rail car. It took only a second to identify him, and she turned away blushing in recognition, while chastising herself for her inability to keep the redness from her cheeks.

He must live around this area, she thought. That could be convenient for running into him on future occasions . . . occasions when she felt a little more social and readily flirtatious. At the moment, though, her intended solitary weekend had stifled any desire to make anyone's acquaintance.