The Glimpse Trade (A Silas Sharp Metaphysical Mystery): Chapter 31

 

Chapter 31 – Tomorrow Is Another Day

 

No matter what kind of case I wrapped up, I knew there was no time to linger. A metaphysical detective can’t waste time focused on yesterday. Sure, I wondered about Avery Bloom. I always would. I’m only human, after all. Or, so I’ve been told. And Marcy, too. Avery’s beleaguered assistant was let go after Avery decided she “needed to take some time to calibrate a new cycle.” I’m told it was an amicable split. I’m sure Marcy is anxious to do cycle calibration of her own. I can’t linger, though. Tomorrow is another day and a new case is already waiting for me.

I think my husband has been sucked into a novel. I heard it was the kind of thing you can help with.

That’s what the woman’s text had said. I’d seen it before but never had a case about it. Seems there was a professor back in the 1970s who found a way to be transported into the novel Madame Bovary for the purposes of having an illicit affair with the titular character. Some men will literally attempt adultery with a fictional character rather than go to therapy.

Speaking of therapy, I decided to pay the lovely and brilliant Dr. Calico Verde a visit. This new case would be the perfect excuse to spend a minute avoiding my feelings for her by picking her brain. That brilliant, beautiful mind would surely lend some insight into what would prompt a man to get sucked into a novel.

*

She sat on the couch reserved for patients. Her long legs were tucked under her as she scribbled some notes on a legal pad.

“Hard at work?” I asked her because small talk is painful for me.

“Working on a book,” she said, putting the notebook aside.

“Is it tawdry pulp novel about a handsome but aloof detective?” I asked, sitting in a chair across from her.

“Close,” she answered. “It’s about toxic nostalgia.”

“Sexy.”

She laughed. “I know talking about an unhealthy, obsessive longing for the past that distorts memories, fostering dissatisfaction with the present and hindering personal growth gets me all hot and bothered.”

“I bet it does,” I said, offering her cigarette. She took it and we locked eyes while I lit it for her. The gaze lingered like a guest who has said goodbye at party several times already but kept standing at the door, hoping to be invited for a sleepover.

Dr. Calico Verde’s striking green eyes pulled me in as she drew a drag on her cigarette. Her ruby red lipstick leaving a mark on the tip as she exhaled. She was all woman. I was all man. Together, we were all human.

The Archivist had offered me a free glimpse of a day. A chance to see how an event would go down. Knowing the outcome, he said, would let me decide whether to actually live the day. Or maybe live it differently for a better result. Helluva sales pitch, I had to admit. He knew a day would come when I would want to tell Calico I had feelings for. That my frequent visits weren’t only about her expertise relevant to my case work. Truth be told, any moment spent with her was the best part of my day. I wanted her to know that. The Archivist knew I wanted her to know that. He offered me a glimpse of the outcome and the possibility to calibrate appropriately.

All romance, that Archivist.

“So,” Calico said, exhaling another drag, “you here about a case? What is it this time? A soccer mom accidentally open an interdimensional portal by using a recipe from an old cookbook?”

I wanted to tell my heart pounded like a speedbag whenever I was near her. That every time she spoke it was a poem. This was the day I had been waiting for. The day The Archivist wanted me to see. I drew a breath, ready to lay it out there.

Her cell phone rang. She picked it up from the coffee table between us where it had been laying on top of some home décor magazines.

“I’m sorry, Silas,” she said. “I need to take this real quick. Hold on.”

I smoked my cigarette and studied her while she took the call.

“Hi, Mike… Just chatting with a colleague… Yes, tonight still works… Seven is fine… Meet you there or are you picking me up?... I’ll meet you there, then. It’s a date… Okay, see you then, Mike.”

She ended the call, her gaze lingering over the phone for a few seconds as she replaced it on the coffee table. Her smile gave her away. As did the lilt in her voice she said, “It’s a date.” Mike was not a patient.

“Silas?” Calico’s voice pulled me from my thoughts and back into reality.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, stamping out the cigarette in an ashtray on her desk. “No case. Just thought I’d say hi.”

“Really?” she replied with a smirk. “You neve just say hi. Is there something I should know? Are you dying?”

“Aren’t we all?”

“There’s the Silas I know.”

We smiled and the silence wedged in between us like a chaperone trying to separate two teenagers at a school dance.

“There is this thing but it’s nothing really. Let me dig around on it some and I’ll let you know if I need your brilliance.”

“Anytime,” she said and I left.

*

Would it have helped me to see that moment before it happened? Not really. The disappointment was still there. Either way, I’d experience it. And either way, I still would’ve made it a point to visit Calico because it’s as natural to me as having a cigarette and a cup of coffee for breakfast. I prefer waking up not knowing what the day brings. That is the mystery of life. And what kind of detective would I be if I didn’t love mystery?