Alison Meets With Simon Part Three

Her cell phone rang. Simon suddenly felt panicked.

"Don't answer that," he said.


She had fished it out of her purse, beside her on the bench in the park.


"Why not?" she asked as she checked the screen. "It's just my mom."


She raised the phone to her ear. Simon almost grabbed her arm. His eyes wide, fear exploding in his chest.


"Hi mom."


A white van stopped on the street bordering the park.


"Alison," he said harshly. "We have to go." He stood up, reached for her.


She gestured to give her a second. "Yeah mom, Thursday is still good for me."


The window of the van rolled down and the rifle barrel emerged.


"Four o'clock," Alison said.


Simon stepped away, trying to put distance between them, to keep her safe, and realized too late, the knowledge crashing like thunder through him. He wasn't the target.


"K mom, see you then."


He reversed his momentum, shifting to throw himself on her. To cover her, hold her, save her. Too late.


The blood erupted from her head. The gunshot crashed like thunder through the park. He landed on her and tackled her off the bench. Her blood splattered across his face.


Too late.

Alison Meets With Simon Part Two

Alison and Simon used to go driving for long drives all the time. They would talk about all sorts of things - movies, history, politics. They would listen to music. He had hesitated when she asked him today. Made a few feeble excuses. She pushed. 

They were on a back road. Trees and farms and fields.


"You know, I used to think you were psychic," she said.


He smiled. "Really? That's... weird."


"You were a weird guy. Not psychic like on the talk shows. But you had these insights. These really neat takes on things. People and situations."


"Hm." Simon stared at the window.


"You don't seem angry," she said. "You seem sad."


"Both I guess, back and forth."


"Like before."


"But different."


They drove. Alison had a Blue Rodeo cd playing quietly.


"Sometimes," Simon said, "it feels like every case I get assigned to is the same case."


"How do you mean? It gets repetitive?"


"Yeah, but it's not only that. I mean it feels like there's really just one big case and every assignment I get is sortof one facet of it."


Alison wished she could ask more questions about the work Simon did. About the details. And part of her was glad she didn't have to know.


"That one last month seemed to take a lot out of you," she said, trying to support him from outside the walls.


His brow furrowed. "Which one?"


"That last big one. Whatever it was about, well, you sounded on the phone like you were on the edge. Like it was maxing you out."


Simon looked at her. "I don't remember."

Alison Meets With Simon Part One

Alison sat down. "I hope you weren't waiting long."

Simon shrugged. "I came pretty early."


"How long have you been here?" They had agreed to meet at the coffeeshop after the morning rush.


"Well... All night."


Alison sighed. "You're not sleeping again."


Simon sipped his coffee. "Yeah."


"Can you tell me what's going on?"


He looked around awkwardly. "It's... It's like before. I guess. Different though, too."


"I'm sorry, Simon. Do you know... I mean..." She struggled to find the right words, to be concerned, gentle, but persistent enough, otherwise she wouldn't reach him.


"It's frustrating," he said. "Things have been going so well." She was equally relieved and disturbed by his willingness to respond.


"How's the work?" she asked. Sipped her coffee.


"I don't know... It feels like a job. Everything's been about the office, about politics. About policies and paperwork. I've forgotten what the actual work is supposed to be about, I think."


"What's changed?"


"Some positions in management have shuffled around. I don't know. I don't think it's just me. Everyone seems disillusioned there right now."


"Are you upset you didn't get that other job?"


Simon shook his head. "I'm glad, I think. Given how I'm feeling, it probably wouldn't have been a good fit."


Alison fixed him with a look. "And how are you feeling?"


He didn't avoid the question, or deflect it. His answer surprised her.


"Angry."


"How come? At what?" Simon was always pretty laid back. She knew that the field he worked in was stressful; she had seen him work through burn-out a few times. He'd never been angry before. Or at least he'd never been open about it.


"I don't know. Everything."


She made her voice soften. "Are you feeling lost?"


"No," Simon said. "I feel found. And it feels wrong."