Clara just had what she considered to be her best week of her life. The scooper posts she made in the blog gained her constant traffic and couple of her reviews landed in prominent promotional material gathering more attention and likewise notoriety. She had just gone on and completed her translation work for the web comic she was working on for so long and the deal she had with the author paid fairly - all things considered. She has had this idea of expanding into her own website and was contemplating a few merchandise ideas like t-shirts and mugs with her catchphrases.
She had advertised in her blog for a freelance developer and was waiting for response.
She also attended the first premiere event in her life. She was invited as part of press screening after the premiere. She experienced firsthand the world of glitz, glamour and associated pains of privacy loss with all the paparazzi. She also had a couple of fangirl moments seeing her on-screen idols in close quarters. Even though she was too nervous to approach, that was an evening that she wouldn't forget. She experienced being a celebrity by proximity.
After the movie premiered, the cast and crew conducted a Q & A session in which she unfortunately couldn't land a question spot as the big outlets took all the time. Still, it was something she was proud that she was able to achieve. She was there without backing – neither financially nor connection wise – and without compromising her editorial standards... well... not by much. Her blogging and overall literary future had never looked better.
So did their future as a couple...?
She hadn't been able to speak to Mike about their relationship freely yet. He seemed increasing busy with his schedule as of late. Not only that, after the road incident, he had grown relatively distant from her. At least she felt so. They were saving up money to pay back loan that they took for renovation activities taking place in Mike's clinic. This was Mike's passion even before she had met him. It was his – their – counselling center. Mike's keenness in offering help to people who were in need of support and his love for books is what drew him to her. He wasn't bad looking either.
Last week, they hit a milestone from contributions from volunteers along with what they had so that they could pay the bank a good chunk of what they borrowed and had some left to conduct a small inauguration ceremony. They sent out invites to major donors and a couple of staff who work for them part-time. She was very much looking forward to the event. Mike just had to finalize the date. The community that Mike had built was a small tightly-knit one. Mostly people he has supported and their well-wishers. It was result of Mike's years of effort.
But all good things must come to an end. She was no stranger to internet trolls. Bad mouthing and name calling for her opinions were not something new to her. Dealing with that and personal attacks were unfortunately part of being an online presence and she understood that. But some specific comments over the past few months have been disturbing her. First, she dismissed them. Then banned the user making them. But they had not stopped popping up.
"Beggars can't be choosers"
"A lapdog thinks it is a wolf"
"SMOOTH-TALKING SCUMBAG!!"
"YOU LOVE THE SOUND OF SILENCE... BUT ONLY FOR OTHERS... HYPOCRITICAL!"
She didn't want to think too much about the email she had received earlier in the day. If you spend two hours on the internet, you'd know not to trust everything you read on it. People have narratives and make up evidence to support it all the time. Even when it flies in the face of common sense. But it was an email this time. Sent to her blog-advertised email. The email ID had the same pattern of name used by the anonymous account(s) that sends her weird hate comments.
It had an image and the content was disturbing. It was a pale faced woman, possibly in her fifties or even older, getting pushed down into her bed. There were three men restraining her. One on each side holding her down. A man was staring down at her with his face near hers. The woman's face showed fear. She was fully masked. She looked like tearing up. The photo seems to have taken from above the woman, possibly a camera attached to the ceiling.
There was no mistaking it. From the hair color and the outfit that man was wearing, it was Mike who was staring down at the woman. Clara was appalled and disgusted. She wanted to call Mike in panic. Her bowels felt like moving. She was sick. This had to be some sick perverted prank.
There was no way this was real. Fabricated nonsense. Even if it were real, it could easily be one of his patients(?) that were violent and the photo could be entirely innocent. There was no context provided. She told herself to not to jump into conclusions. People with extreme stress that visit the clinic do show violent tendencies while being asked uncomfortable questions. The faces of the men were not in view. It couldn't even be Mike for certain. That shirt could be owned by thousands of men. It was a generic striped shirt...her head was buzzing... she in her gut, had a feeling that something was off.
She wanted to divert her mind from this madness. She wanted to focus on happy things. The upcoming event. Invites. She checked her mails to make sure that she had included every major donor was included in the invite. She was supposed to come up with a sentence to be put in a plaque that was to be kept near the place where they were going to plant a tree as part of the ceremony. She thought hard. A counselling clinic. A place of support... a shoulder to lean on... she was not getting inspired. She wanted to take the prescribed sleeping pills and fall asleep so bad, but she had to ask something about this to Mike and she had very narrow time-window to do so and didn't want to miss the opportunity.
Clara shifted in her seat, troubled with restlessness. Even the reliable distraction of entertainment shows did not seem to work. Unable to divert her attention from this mess, she decided to be productive, starting by looking into the financials of their clinic, involving donor contributions. She had a list of donors to go over, which Mike had handpicked, to extend invites based on the contribution. This was their joint account. Clara intended to cross-check it, to be sure. Mike already had a lot on his plate. Perusing through the list skimming at first, she paused and took notes down the line. It did not add up. What started out as a casual activity was going to compound her already worsening anxiety.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
The last contribution made was for the amount they had as an upper limit for donations. That was the money equivalent to ten times what they charged for consultation for an average income patient. They could buy an expensive phone with it. The account had all their contributions – even the money that had got before she moved into Mike's – and only a few times were this kind of money offered. It could've been an oversight that a person who made such a contribution wasn't invited to the ceremony.
That being the last contribution made the absence more conspicuous. She was tired. She checked the account details. She verified with the database that they had in clinic software for user information that matched. She got a name for it. But the address field was marked as N/A. Data stored here was according to the online form that contributors had to fill out. Address field was optional due to privacy reasons. She wrote down the name – Judy.
Mike was coming home from a busy day. He had gone to the catering place to finalize the deal for the small after-party they were going to organize after the inauguration ceremony. He had to pay in advance and had to finalize the dishes being served for the day. The patients had him held up in the office way past evening. He had intended to take an early off for the day.
After all, having to listen to people's anxiety and guiding them was not an easy job. Not all people had their thoughts collected. Some people ramble on and on. Some do not divulge details whatsoever and he had to pry it out of them. There were people with trust issues, insecurity issues, quarrelling couples - were the most irritating and unfortunately common. The people would count on the him to reveal their inner self. The information shared is legally confidential and also in practice.
In short, it was a job that made him feel good as a person, lessening worries of people to the best he can, but it can sometimes be stressful for him. There traumatic experiences of people he has to deal with stayed with him. A long day such as this warrants a light booze. He had bought wine and an expensive pen to gift Clara for her recent success. But sadly, did he know the environment back home wasn't going to be as joyous as what he was hoping for.
"Hey Mikey" Clara said. Mike didn't receive a kiss that he expected
"Hey... how have you been... bored? You look half asleep. After the inauguration, things are going to be less hectic. We can have a short trip. It is not going to be like a premiere... but still... you sit here all day... I'll go nuts if I was in your place."
Clara gave him a smile
"Here's something... you know... eloquence isn't my thing... you have done great... with your career... cheers for your big day." Mike offered her the pen and the wine bottle.
She always liked his thoughtfulness. Presents were secondary.
If only this were a different day
"Thanks babe" she kissed him. "I am nervous and excited as the day is nearing... It's all your hard work... it's going to be great."
Mike thought she sounded less enthusiastic than he expected her to be. He could be overthinking.
"Are you okay?" Mike was worried.
She had tried to mask her thoughts as soon as she heard the doorbell rang. But her partner was a counselor, a competent one at that.
"Something's been troubling me Mikey."
"Tell me" ... he told her as he was changing to his casuals
"You have been insisting to not to go to cops regarding the whole road thing" Clara asked. Mike's smile seemed to fade.
"You were threatened at gun point... people made you hold a gun to your head... I'm worried"
"That was a while back! ... Its fine... It was a misunderstanding... it's all dealt with... No need to worry... This room is making you go crazy." Mike was going to continue when Clara interrupted.
"I was just killing time cross checking the invite list. There isn't any invite for a person called Judy"
Mike did not react well. Clara did not like it
Not good.
"What do you mean?" he asked
"She has contributed the maximum amount that we set for and yet she is not in the list of invitees... shall I send one? Do you know the address..."?
"I paid it back." he replied
"That's our biggest backer... why..."
"Does it matter?" Mike was slightly in an irritable mood.
"Well, this is a clinic decision right... usually me and our staff are informed... that's why." She replied.
"See babe" Mike lightened. "This is nothing you need to be concerned about..." he began.
"Then you can tell me I suppose" ... She didn't like that there was a secret... this was such a stupid thing... she even put off asking about the image first. She wanted to get a handle on him... she even soft-balled the question... he is not doing well.
Mike read the room.
"It's just that... she is a stripper in the town club... It didn't feel appropriate..."
"The address wasn't even in the database... much less the work address... how do you know, Mikey" she asked... trying to not raise her voice
Silence.
"And I don't think that matters, does it... we run a counselling clinic... We've had people from those backgrounds... we didn't deny service... did we?"
"It is not the same."
"It is" ... she was nervous... "It is not like you to be like this Mikey... "
"I don't go there" ... Mike finally said.
"It's not about that... you know me well... I have no problem even if... "
It was escalating in a way she didn't want it to.
"Are we done here... I have some work to do." Mike said. "I paid her back. Its settled and is fair"
"One more thing... I want you to see this... I've been dreading to show you this"
Clara showed the email from her laptop.
Nothing could've prepared Mike for this... he was frozen for a good minute before he spoke.
"It is not what you think it is honey... Sorry, I can't tell you anything right now... But trust me... I have not hurt anybody intentionally... That is all I can say now... Yes, it is me there."
"The email had a subject that said... like father like son." Clara enquired.
Mike was looking sorry.
"I had a dream of becoming a doctor just like my father. I studied medicine and helped out people with first-aid even when I was a student, I participated in blood donation and other community activities... I had good grades too... I inherited the clinic from my father... I wanted to carry on his work and make him happy one day..." Mike was breaking down.
"It just didn't work out... My father was named a killer... he was away in an assignment... he was then locked up... it was in the newspapers... I was kicked out of college... there was proof... we lost in court... I couldn't continue my profession... I continued to train under my father's friends in private... but I was never going to be qualified enough to be a good doctor... then I shifted my career to the next best thing I could find... counselling... It's an intimate job of emotional support... I hated my father... I changed the clinic's name... I renovated it to forget about him... I worked hard to change the perceptions... I didn't have money to move out..."
"Why didn't you tell me all this?... Morgan, a killer?" Clara was sympathetic.
"Then you came into my life changing it for the better... I was very thankful... I wanted a fresh start..."
Clara hugged him.
"The woman Judy contacted me a month ago saying that she had some details about my father's conviction that would help me... and made me run errands for her and I got nothing so far to show for it... I think I've been played Clara... I want out of this... I am in a mess right now... I've made mistakes... Sorry that I have to keep secrets... it is for your sake as well..."
"I am not trying to manipulate you... you know that I care for you... Don't expect much right now... I need time" ... he said as he went to his bed. "Good night"
Clara was relieved after the conversation. But she needed answers.