Color of Blood(112)

“Did you get a chance to relax?” Dr. Forrester asked.

“More or less.”

“How are you feeling these days?” she said.

“Fine, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well, work is kind of complicated, but I’m not feeling depressed, if that’s what you mean.”

“How are you sleeping?”

“Pretty good.”

“How’s your drinking?”

“No big benders to speak of.”

“You really need to watch your drinking, Dennis.”

“Yes.”

“And your daughter? Have you tried to keep in contact with her? She’s the only close family member you have.”

“Actually, that’s going really well,” Dennis said. “We talk more now than we have in years. I like talking to her.”

“What do you talk about?”

“Oh, everything: her work, my travels. Stuff like that. It’s fun.”

“Does she ever talk about her mother?”

“Sometimes, but not as much anymore: time for her to move on. Me, too.”

“And you’ve still never told her the true story about what happened around the car accident?”

“No. I won’t do that to her. She doesn’t need to have her mother’s memory defaced.”

“Well, you could always change your mind in the future,” she said.

“Maybe.”

“And how about you; have you started to move on in your personal life?”

“You mean like dating?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

Dennis sighed, and the expression was not lost on Dr. Forrester.

“I met a woman, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Really? How is the relationship going? How does it feel?”

“It feels—well, actually it felt really, really good: kind of exciting all over again. I felt like a silly teenager.”

“You sound sad; is the relationship already over?”

“It’s complicated because of work: can’t really discuss it. But maybe one day I can resurrect the relationship. She is really terrific.”

Now Dr. Forrester sighed.

“Ever since I’ve been on the approved list of therapists for the Agency, I’ve heard more heartbreak caused by the term ‘complications’ than you can imagine. I just hope they know what they’re doing over there to all these people.”

“They don’t know, and they don’t care,” Dennis said. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

***

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” the young woman said. “A venti mild roast?”

“Yes, you remembered,” Dennis said. “That would be great. How are your classes going?”

“Ha! You remembered, too. Well, I like Art History and Western Civ, but not the math,” she said. “I’m not one for the math. Still, thanks for asking.”

Dennis had maintained one of those modern, quasi-casual relationships with a Starbucks barista for at least a year. She was a college student at Northern Virginia Community College, and they had struck up a conversation about school a long time ago during his stops for coffee. In modern suburban society, it was the kind of connection that made strangers feel familiar when, in fact, the relationship was glancing and superficial.

“Well, you’re still working here, so things must be good,” Dennis said. “Just try not to drop out and postpone college.”

“The loans are a killer,” she said, “but I can’t think about it now. It’s too depressing.”

“You know,” Dennis said, “where I work we have small projects that we outsource to college students. Simple things like looking stuff up on the Internet. You interested some time?”

“Can I do it from home?”

“Sure.”

“How much does it pay?”

“Twenty bucks an hour.”

“Really? How long do these things take?”

“Not long. I’ll get our secretary to see if she has a project, and I’ll give it to you next time I’m in.

“Really?”

“Sure.”

The following day, Dennis visited the coffee shop during her shift and revisited his offer. “We track shipping containers all around the world,” he said. “I know it sounds dull, and some of it’s for the government, so don’t go telling folks about it. We’re not allowed to outsource this stuff to India.”

She laughed. “OK, what do I do?”

Dennis handed her forty dollars in cash, and on top he had a piece of paper with three items: two long numbers and a URL.

“All you need to do is go to that address and type in those two numbers: the first number is your login, and the second is your password. Then look at a map of the world and tell me where the shipping container is and how long it’s been stationary. There’s a little counter at the bottom of the screen that will tell you how long it’s been at its current position. Simple.”

“That’s it? And for that I get forty bucks?

“You don’t have to do it, just thought you’d be interested.”

She slid the venti mild roast over to him and said, “This one’s on me. And what’s your name?”