Dawn of Eve - MJ Howson (read full novel .txt) 📗

Dr. Cole stood up and went to the back of his office. He said, “Yes. With her permission.”

“You haven’t done that in a while.”

“Her case might be book-worthy.”

“Oh, Winston.” Flo rolled her eyes. “Are you still planning on writing that book when you retire?”

Dr. Cole opened the bottom drawer in one of the cabinets. A smile spread across his face. Resting atop a pile of blank cassette tapes sat his dad’s old Panasonic recorder. A thin film of dust covered the tape deck. Dr. Cole reached inside and carried it back to his desk, along with a blank tape.

“I’ve never had a postpartum case like Dawn’s,” Dr. Cole said. “I want to start documenting our sessions.”

“Will that old thing work?” Flo asked. She crossed her arms as she slowly approached her husband’s desk. “It looks like it belongs in a museum.”

“Please. They built these things to last.”

“Just use your phone to record it.”

Dr. Cole shoved the digital recorder aside and set the Panasonic near the edge of his desk. He plugged the power cord in, inserted a tape, and hit play. The motor whirred to life. Dr. Cole looked at his wife and smiled. He said, “I like to keep my phones quiet and out of the way.”

“Phones? What–”

The entrance to the waiting room opened, and Dawn stepped inside. Dr. Cole hit the stop button.

“She’s here,” Flo said.

As his wife left his office, Dr. Cole quickly tried to tidy up his desk. His messy desktop included a few open folders, a blank writing pad, a computer monitor, a box of tissues, and several knick-knacks. He grabbed a blue-cased smartphone and shoved it into the top drawer.

Flo and Dawn’s muffled chit-chat was drowned out by the window air conditioner’s hum and a ticking wall clock. The AC unit’s dirty brittle filter resulted in the air being especially stale smelling. Just as Dr. Cole sat down, a tabby cat bolted into the room. The American Bobtail clawed her way across the worn Persian hand-knotted rug covering the floor. She scurried beneath a couch, emerged from the other side, and jumped onto Dr. Cole’s desk. The cat’s tail brushed against a five-by-seven wooden plaque with the words Trust is a two way street carved into the front. The cheerful message fell over as the cat searched for a comfortable place to relax.

“Luna!” Flo ran into the room, shaking her head. She scooped the cat from the desk and tucked her beneath her arm. After setting the plaque upright, Flo aimed the cat at the digital recorder. “Bad kitty. Bad.” She looked at her husband and asked, “Are you ready?”

A clock hanging over the door showed the time as 11:06 a.m. The clock’s position allowed Dr. Cole to innocently glance above a patient’s head to check on the time. He said, “You can send her in.”

Flo returned to the waiting room. Dawn strolled into the office, still wearing her oversized sunglasses. The room contained an imposing embroidered couch and two matching chairs near his desk. During their initial meeting, Dr. Cole had asked Dawn her seating preference. As with some of his patients, Dawn requested the doctor stay behind his desk during their session. The physical barrier and distance brought her a bit of comfort. Dawn took a seat in one of the chairs and began to tug at her scarf.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Flo said as she closed the door.

Dr. Cole waited until he felt Dawn was settled into her chair. He always wanted his patients to feel at ease before the session began. He spent a few moments trying to organize his cluttered desk.

“How are you feeling today?” Dr. Cole asked. He placed his reading glasses on his desk. “Did you have a nice walk here?”

“I’m . . . I’m okay.” Dawn slid her sunglasses off and pulled her scarf from her neck, scrunching it into a ball in her hands. “The stroll down the High Line was as lovely as always. There are days I wish your office was all the way down in Greenwich Village so I’d have more time to enjoy myself.” Dawn’s eyes settled on the tape recorder. “What’s that for?”

Dr. Cole smiled and shifted about, causing his chair to squeak. He drummed his fingers across his stomach as he made himself comfortable. He said, “I was hoping to record our sessions. With your approval, naturally.”

“Record them?” Dawn bit her lip and frowned. “Why?”

“For research. I . . . I find your case quite fascinating, Dawn. I told you I plan to retire at the end of the year.”

“Yes. You told me I was your last new patient.”

“Well, Flo and I plan to move to Florida. During retirement, I want to write a book. Maybe several.”

“About me?”

“I have many patients that I’ve recorded. With their consent, of course. It helps with my research.”

“Oh. I . . . I don’t know. I’m a private person.”

“Oh, I won’t name you. Everyone in my book will be anonymous. What happens in this office stays in this office.”

“Doctor, patient, confidentiality, right?”

“Exactly.” Dr. Cole waited a few moments for Dawn to continue, but she sat there with a blank look on her face. “So, do I have your permission?”

“Um, sure. Okay.” Dawn stared at the recorder and grinned. “That’s an old one, isn’t it?”

“It was my dad’s.” Dr. Cole hit the record button. The motor on the old tape recorder whirred to life. He leaned close to the mic and said, “This is session number four with Dawn Easton. Today’s date is Friday, August second, twenty nineteen.”

Dr. Cole glanced at the notepad in front of him. During his sessions, he liked to write down key points he either needed to remember or follow up on later. He preferred to write as little as possible so that he could focus entirely on his patient.

“Tell me, Dawn, how are you sleeping?”

“Um. Fine.” Dawn tugged at her crumpled scarf. “Better, I guess.”

“And the dreams?”

“They, uh, they still come