image [https://i.imgur.com/ByTqtCI.png]

I hated waiting rooms.

It was innately humiliating to be sitting there waiting for Dr. Oh, but it was hard to put my finger on why. Something about checking in with the receptionist and everyone knowing exactly why you’re there. You can’t make up excuses for your presence, no way to say ‘I’m not like everyone else here - I’m normal.’ You can only sit there, grossly aware of yourself and everyone around you.

Today was a little different, though, as I wasn’t really thinking of myself or the world around me. I thought only of one thing.

“Mr. Herrera?” Dr. Oh’s gentle voice interrupted my train of thought. She stood in the doorway, a perfect image of neutrality. So cool, so calm, so measured. I wonder what that’s like, I thought enviously.

Once escorted into her office, Dr. Oh sat before me in her sleek leather chair. Without a word, I plunked down onto the couch and tried my best to seem more open than I’d had in the past.

“So, Manuel,” Dr. Oh began; though she said my name with a smile, it wasn’t a genuine one - it was born more out of obligation. “It’s been about… three weeks, hasn’t it? Four?”

“Around that,” I replied with a similarly inauthentic smile. “I haven’t had the time, sorry.”

“That’s fine. How have things been?” She pulled her hair into her hand and then tied it into a low ponytail, pulling it back over her shoulder.

I fought back against my tight-lipped instinct as hard as I could. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Hm…” And thus, the judgment was underway. “Well, where would you like to begin?”

“Uh, let’s see…” I took a breath in. “We got a probie— uh, a new firefighter at the station. He started right after our last session.”

“Tell me more about him.” Dr. Oh took out her notebook in a way that made it clear she wanted to be inconspicuous, but still made me feel like an animal under observation.

“His name is Garrett,” I said. “He’s your typical bright-eyed kid. Always turned up to eleven, everything is exciting, bouncing off the walls, that type. He’s the youngest firefighter I’ve ever worked with, around twenty-two, I think.”

The corner of Dr. Oh’s mouth twitched, but I had no clue what it meant. “Are you two getting along well?”

“More or less,” I replied. “He’s basically stuck to me like glue ‘cause I’ve been nicest to him out of everybody. I don’t know what to do about it, ‘cause I don’t really want to like, you know, get too close to him, but… doesn’t seem like I’ve got a choice.”

She finished a line of writing with a flick of her wrist. Then, she glanced up at me. “This could be a good opportunity for you to build more relationships. You seem to have a very narrow social circle, and it might benefit you to expand it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly looking to become a social butterfly.” I cast my eyes to the ground; I didn’t like talking to her when she watched me so steadily. “It’s hard for me to get close to people, especially after Feliz.”

I paused. I knew that wasn’t the end of my sentence, and from the way she looked at me, Dr. Oh knew it, too. I steadied myself before I met her stare.

“And after Raja,” I said firmly.

“Raja?” Dr. Oh echoed, her pen ready to dash across the page at a moment’s notice.

“He was in the same squad as me, Feliz and Cliff. We met when we were in basic,” I explained. “He and I were… really close.”

I remembered him so clearly: his goofy mouth; his eyelashes, far too long for a guy to have any use for; his laugh, so stupid, so contagious. Imagining his face was a punch in the gut. Imagining him back at the camp was ten times worse.

“You speak of him in the past tense,” said Dr. Oh. “Did he pass away as well?”

“No— I mean, I don’t know for sure,” I replied, swallowing thickly. “He was there when Feliz died. He, uh… when he was running back to us, he got shot in the knee. The last time I saw him was in the military hospital. I think he got discharged ‘cause he couldn’t run anymore.”

Quickly, she wrote something down in her notebook. “Is there a reason you haven’t kept in contact with him?”

The more we talked about it, the heavier my body felt. Every organ in my chest seemed dragged down, as if they’d sink through to the ocean floor if I took them out of my body.

“He disappeared on me,” I said. I sounded so pitiful, I hated it. “The next time I tried to visit him, he was gone without a trace. No one could tell me where he went, so… I’ve never seen him since.”

I tried not to dwell on it, but it was impossible. Laid up in that hospital bed, gaunt and weak in that papery gown, he’d looked more dead than alive. Thank God he didn’t die, I’d thought, but he didn’t seem to agree. On my lap, my hands tensed into fists.

“As much as it hurt to lose Feliz, losing Raja was different.” My throat tightened. “You know, like, I grew up with Feliz. Losing him was like losing a brother. And I… I watched him die.”

I swallowed again. Dr. Oh watched me without a shred of sympathy.

“But I didn’t see Raja die— he just… vanished.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Feliz had a tombstone, but… Raja didn’t. All these years, he’s been like a Schrödinger's cat, you know? Both dead and alive at the same time. And I’ve had no way of knowing which.”

I had to stop talking or else I was going to cry. On principle, I refused to cry. As I spoke, Dr. Oh remained poised like a mannequin except for the busy pen dancing across her notebook.

“And for all these years, I’ve dealt with it. It sucks, but I dealt with it.” Then, like a spark ignited, I felt a rise in my chest. “But I— I know this is going to sound crazy, but I swear, Doc, I swear to God I saw him. Just a few days ago, I saw him.”

“And this wasn’t in a dream of yours?” Her tone took a skeptical bend. “Though it’s an extremely rare side effects, hallucinations—”

“He wasn’t a hallucination!” I shouted, lurching forward. “He was real! He was real and he was alive. ”

As hard as I was trying to convince Dr. Oh, I was also trying to convince myself, desperate to assure myself that I wasn’t crazy - that there was a light at the end of this tunnel, and Raja was standing there.

Dr. Oh, though she was taken aback by my outburst, kept her composure neatly. “And how did this… ‘reunion’ of yours go?”

My mind filled with images of tents on fire and the stink of burning nylon and polyester; of that reporter, pretty and fox-like, prying apart the hearts of the homeless to blast on local TV; of Raja, or his ghostly lookalike, a time capsule broken open.

“It wasn’t really a reunion,” I said, lowering my voice. “I saw him at that homeless camp that caught fire a few weeks ago. I think maybe one of the tents was his.”

“I saw that on the news…” She replied. “That must’ve been difficult for you.”

“I just wish he’d stayed long enough to talk to me.” Again, I was choking up, as if the longer I imagined him, the more an invisible noose tightened around my neck. “But he left as soon as he saw me. Gone without a trace, just like last time.”

Thoughtfully, Dr. Oh hummed. “If it was him, it may have been humiliating for him to be seen in that kind of a state.”

“Shit, I wouldn’t care even if he was some kind of wildman living out in the Rockies!” I returned. “I… I need to see him again. If it’s him— fuck, Doc, I know it’s him— I just don’t know how to find him.”

She didn’t look entirely supportive. “It may be better for you to let sleeping dogs lie, as it were.”

I stared at her, puzzled. “What?”

“Let’s imagine that this man was, indeed, Raja. You don’t know if he— Raja— is the same person he was when you knew him in the service. You could be setting yourself up for disappointment, if you’ve had this vision of him in your mind for so long.” Dr. Oh steepled her fingers carefully. “Rather than let yourself continue obsessing over the past, it may be better for you to seek closure and move on.”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“The fuck? No. No!” Without even realizing it, I was shaking my head. “If he’s out there— if he’s here in Dallas— then I’m going to find him. Fuck closure! Closure’s just a bullshit word people use to mean ‘when the pain finally goes away,’ and guess what? It never, ever goes away. You just get better at walking around with a hole in your heart. Why would I do that if I have an option not to?”

“Manuel, that’s not what closure means, and you know that.” Her mouth, ordinarily a neutral line, curled downward. “I think, perhaps, you wait too long between sessions. Right now, you struggle with bottling up your emotions until you hit a breaking point, and then—”

Though Dr. Oh had continued talking, I tuned her out completely. Instead, I was desperately racking my brain for ways to find Raja, trying to remember which street the camp had been on and how I would even go about finding him. If it was him - how could it not be? - then how had I never seen him walking around Dallas this whole time? How had we been so close to each other, yet so far apart?

“… think you should consider adding an antidepressant…”

Of everyone I knew, Cliff would probably know how to find him. His boys on the beat were always way too familiar with the homeless, and he might even have other connections as a detective. I’d been meaning to touch base with him anyway. It was worth a try.

“… common in people with PTSD—”

“Hey, Doc, listen,” I interrupted. “I gotta cut this session short, sorry. I just remembered I have something I need to do. Urgent.”

Dr. Oh raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. She clearly didn’t believe me, but didn’t seem to care enough to object.

“I understand,” she said without understanding. “Manuel, I want to see you back here next week. I feel we’re on track to get to the heart of your issues, and that revelation could be the key to your healing. But we need to be more persistent. You need to invest more effort into this.”

“Sure, right, you got it,” I nodded, pulling my jacket back over myself. “I’ll call after I look at my schedule.”

Though she was clearly displeased with how abruptly I was leaving, Dr. Oh made no protest. She simply watched me as I zipped up my jacket and headed out, barely even stopping to wave at her receptionist.

When I exited her office, the sun was bright and high in the sky. I slid my sunglasses over my eyes and pulled out my phone, texting as I walked back to my truck with a spring in my step.

Cliff my man when are you free? We should talk.

･ ･ ･

For once, luck was on my side: just a week later, the stars aligned, and Cliff actually had time off to see me.

When I rolled into the parking lot of the little Tex-Mex joint, Cliff had already been there waiting, puffing away at a cigarette as he leaned against his off-white Outback. He’d been reading something off of his phone, but as soon as I approached, he tucked it away.

“Sorry that took forever, traffic sucked,” I said. “You been here long?”

“Oh, it was traffic, was it?” Checking his watch, Cliff clamped his cigarette between his lips in a grin. “I figured you were probably having trouble deciding what to wear, so I didn’t want to holler at you. I know you can’t leave the house without gettin’ yourself all done up.”

“Ay, you’re such a slob, you think anybody who ain’t rolling ‘round in pig shit’s a sissy,” I laughed. As people filtered in and out of the restaurant around us, I craned my neck upward to read the sign. “Ugh, why do you always take me to these busted ass Tex-Mex places? Too white for real Mexican food, gringo?”

He took one final puff off of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and squashing it with his shoe, smoke billowing out of his nose as he chuckled. “Ain’t enough cheese and sour cream at those ‘real’ Mexican places. Cheese and sour cream— God’s gifts to the culinary arts. I’m the same way about those Asian places! Not enough cheese.”

“I don’t think cheese and sushi go together.” I gagged at the thought of it. “But I respect your lifestyle, even if I disagree with it.”

At this, Cliff laughed again, and we escaped from the cool, February air into the sticky atmosphere of the crowded restaurant. A young woman escorted us from the front to a table close to the bar, taking our drink orders and fetching us a bowl of chips and salsa.

I felt guilty for summoning Cliff out here with a hidden agenda, but it was good to see him again anyway, since I hadn’t seen him since Christmas. Our schedules frequently failed to align, though ironically, I saw him more often during calls than off-duty. He scooped a large helping of salsa onto a chip, watching the people around our table with lazy curiosity.

“So everything been going good lately?” Cliff asked. “Work been keeping you busy?”

“Nah, it’s been okay,” I said, after a sip of beer. “We got that new probie I was telling you about, but otherwise it’s been pretty level.”

“What about Mercy? She and Cleo doing alright?” He took a drink off his own beer. “She and Niecy had some little tiff, so I haven’t heard from her lately. I’m sure they’ll get over it soon, though.”

“Yeah, more or less,” I nodded. “Cleo’s been on a tear about artsy fartsy crap. I’m doing what I can to, you know, support her, even though I have no idea what she’s talking about half the time.”

“Ah, well, she’s a great kid otherwise. You’ve put a lot of effort into raising her right.” He lifted his beer, as if for a toast. “I admire that, you know.”

The beer in my hands grew rapidly warmer as my hands, clammy and hot, gripped it tighter. “Well, it’s not like it’s just anyone’s kid— I’m not running a charity here.”

A somber shadow cast itself over Cliff’s face. He lifted the beer bottle to his lips, but didn’t bother to drink from it for what seemed like an eternity. Rather than take a sip, he set the bottle back down and reached for a chip instead.

The waitress interrupted us to take our orders, and once she was done, she slipped away like a little phantom back into the crowd that was forming in the bar. Now felt like the time to broach the subject.

Nervously, I rubbed my thumb along the neck of the beer bottle as I watched Cliff. “Hey, so… you know who I’ve been thinking about lately?”

“Hm?” Expectantly, Cliff crunched on a chip as he waited for me to continue.

“Raj.” I braced for impact, knowing I was about to purposefully step on a landmine. “You remember? Raja Singh?”

Immediately, the smile was wiped clean off of Cliff’s face. “Manny, I have to deal with bastards at work every day. Don’t make me think of bastards when I’m off the clock.”

“Look, it’s just— I— I saw him,” I continued, despite Cliff’s rapidly souring demeanor. “When we were putting out a fire at that homeless camp. There was this guy there and, Cliff, I tell you, he looked so much like Raj—”

“Oh, come on,” he interrupted. “You know how many scrawny, ugly Indian guys are in the DFW area? It wasn’t him.”

“No, listen to me.” I sat forward. “It was him. He had that— that birthmark on his hand, Cliff, I know it was him—”

“I don’t care!” He shouted. When it was clearly attracting attention, he quieted down. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead, whether he’s got a toe tag or not. Frankly, that you blame yourself for Feliz dying and not him still shocks me, but you’ve always been a bleeding heart.”

I cast my gaze to the floor, lifting it only when I took another drink. “You don’t get it—”

“Enough!” Cliff slammed the beer bottle down on the edge of the table. Now the other customers were watching us with rapt attention, which made my neck slimy with sweat.

“Cliff, calm down,” I whispered hoarsely. “I’m not trying to start a fucking argument, okay?”

“Sure, alright, whatever— but why would you bring him up unless you wanted to piss me off?” Cliff didn’t whisper, but he was more careful now not to raise his voice. “Why the fuck do you even want to talk about him in the first place?”

“I need your help.” I looked at him as seriously as I could. “’Cause… I want to find him.”

Cliff stared at me. “You want to find him,” he echoed.

“Yeah.” My gaze did not waver. “I do.”

Once he’d had his fill of blinking in confusion, Cliff asked as simply as he could: “Why?”

I knew drinking the beer was a mistake. My heart was a rock in my chest, nausea burgeoning in my stomach. With all these people in here, I felt exposed, projected on a silver screen for all to see.

“’Cause Feliz isn’t the only ghost haunting me,” I said grimly. “I didn’t even think Raja could be in Dallas until I saw him. And now… I can’t explain why, but I need to talk to him. I haven’t spoken to him since Feliz died.”

“Herrera, what you need is to go to therapy,” Cliff snorted dismissively. “Who knows? They might make a pill for whatever your problem is.”

I withheld the primal urge to reach across the table and beat him. “Look, I just want your help, that’s all. You don’t have to talk to him, just help me find him. And if it’s not him, then… you know, I can move on. I can move past it. I… I need this closure, Cliff.”

When the waitress came with our food, Cliff ordered another round of beer without even asking. Then the steeliness in his demeanor melted into a softness, and once again, he gave me that horrible look that everyone bestowed upon me: pity. But I was willing to tolerate it if it meant seeing Raja again.

“Tell you what, since you’re a fuckin’ stubborn mule,” he said, sawing into his steak, “I’ve got some guys who usually work the beat near that camp. If they see a guy like that, I’ll let you know. But that’s it— I’m not doing anything else. And I don’t want to hear another word about it, got it?”

The gratitude on my face must’ve been clear, because Cliff softened further at the sight of it. He may have had his reservations, but Cliff was a stand-up guy. That he was willing to put aside his feelings to help me meant more than he could’ve known.

“Well, I’ll make it worth your while— I’ll buy you a new watch,” I smiled widely. “Even though you shouldn’t even need one these days. That one from a few years back still holding up?”

Cliff twisted his wrist around to show me his current watch, beaming with satisfaction. “I love this thing, Manny. Everyone talks all this shit about it, but I tell you, it makes me feel like a badass P.I.”

I finally began to scoop up the refried beans on my plate into a corn tortilla. “Then I’ll get you an even nicer one. Some real fuckin’ fancy-ass shit— maybe even a Rolex.”

“Ah, the time honored tradition of bribing cops!” He grinned through a bite of steak. “It’s great to finally be part of it!”

Together, we laughed, and then we moved on. As our conversation drifted to other topics, an unexpected weight was easing off of my shoulders. I didn’t imagine that seeing Raja was going to go well, but it was going to go somewhere.

And this whole time, I’d been looking to be anywhere else.