Chapter 10

"I brought you some coffee. I remembered you said you drank a lot, so I assumed you drank it until you went to bed. It's what you ordered when we met." He handed her a large coffee.

"Oh, thank you. I was actually about to put a pot on. Hang your coat up and stay a while."

Spencer hung his coat up in the small foyer, set his bag on the floor below it and followed her into the living room. "You're Swedish, right? Your last name, Karlsson, is a Scandinavian patronymic surname meaning "son of Karl." It's actually one of the most common last names in Sweden."

"Yeah, I am. By the by, last time I checked, it was the third most common last name in Sweden."

"Did you know Sweden is one of the heaviest coffee drinking countries in the world, only behind Finland? On average, each Swede drinks about five cups of coffee a day."

"Oh, trust me, I know. I come from a long line of coffee drinkers. Any given day, I can go through about 3 or 4 12-cup carafes. And you're right, I do drink it until I go to bed. Habit I picked up from my mother who in turn got it from her grandparents. Have a seat. I'm just going to put some clothes on." She set Reed down, pointed in the direction of the seating and went to her bedroom.

Spencer tapped on his cup and sat down on the three-seat English Art Deco Leather Chesterfield sofa, next to her Queen Anne Wing Chair Antique Oxblood RedQueen Anne Wing Chair Antique Oxblood RedQueen Anne Wing Chair Antique Oxblood Red Queen Anne Wing Chair Antique Oxblood Red Queen Anne Wing antique chair, both in Oxblood Red. His eyes wandered around the room. It was fairly modest. Across from him sat a small TV and a stereo that played cassettes, CDs, and records. To his left was the dining room, which held a bistro table with enough seating for two. Behind that was a bookshelf that took up the entire wall, filled with all types of media.

Reed jumped up on the couch. He put his paw on Spencer's thigh, trying to get his attention. Spencer cautiously petted him.

During this, Amanda had gone to her room. Once she had closed the door behind her, she leaned her back against it and sighed. "Why does he have to do that thing with his mouth when he talks?" she mumbled to herself before taking a big gulp of coffee.

She couldn't remember the last time she was this panicked. She knew she had liked him from the moment they had begun talking, but now he was sitting in her home.

She ran to her dresser and threw a bejeweled claw in her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. As quickly as she could, she did her makeup to give her that natural without the flaws look. She stared at closet, not knowing what to wear. She riffled through every one of her drawers and had gone over every piece in her closet. After all of that, she gave up and put on her pajamas, a black tank top and red satin shorts.

She looked at herself one more time and took a deep breath heading back out. "Sorry that took as long as it did."

"Quite alright. I was just getting acquainted with your dog." Reed had curled up on Spencer's lap and fallen asleep.

Amanda chuckled, "I guess he likes you."

"I would hope so because if he did this and hated me, I'd hate to see what he'd do if he loved me."

"I see your point." Amanda smiled as she sat in the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Spencer looked at her and coyly smirked before taking a large gulp of his coffee. "You have a nice place, here."

"Thanks. It's not quite finished. I haven't decided where I want my artwork or which ones to put up. I think I may have too many. I still have tons of art and books at my mother's house. So how's work, modern day John Douglas?"

Spencer looked at her confused. He was surprised and elated she knew so much of what he does, but confused. "You know who that is?"

"I told you I wanted to go into criminal psychology. I think everybody who even thinks they maybe want to go into that field should read "Mind Hunter," and every true crime book they can get their hands on. Even if they don't want to join they should, it's a really good book. I have a signed copy somewhere over on the book shelf. I've just hadn't had the time or energy to organize all of that."

Spencer carefully put Reed next to him, trying to not wake the dog, and went over to the selves to look through them. She had just tossed the books on the shelf, so there was no rhyme or reason, facing every which way. Along the classics, she had some strange books. On one shelf alone she had: "Lenin's Embalmers," "Godel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden," "The Bell Jar," "Liberace: Your Personal Fashion Consultant," "Eugene Onegin," "Party Monster," "The Penal Colony," two copies of "Breakfast of Champions," "The History of Murder," "The Canterbury Tales," "Madame Bovary," and "Movie Stars in Bathtubs."

"Eclectic mix you have here. I could, maybe, help one day, if you'd like." Spencer said, not taking his eyes off the books.

Amanda got off the chair and pulled the espresso colored afghan off of the back of the couch. "That would be great. It would take way too many hours to do that by myself." She sat back down and put the blanket over her."

"Oh, are you getting tired? We could just continue this on another day."

"No. It's just a comfort thing. Sit down and finish your coffee. Unless, of course, if you're getting tired. It's up to you." Reed woke up and stretched.

Spencer came back to the couch and sat down. Reed climbed over his lap and onto the arm of the chair, before jumping down and running off. "I think he may be over you." Amanda laughed.

"I guess so." Spencer looked back towards the small hallway where Reed ran.

When he was turning back, their eyes met. He quickly turned his gaze to the balcony. "Nice view. Not as good as mine, but nice."

Amanda sighed, "Show off." Reed came running back with his plush iPhone. As he tried to stop, his paws started to slip and he fell down, dropping his toy in the process. He picked up his toy and brought it over to Spencer, dropping it at his feet. He looked at Spencer, lifting his semi-prick ears as much as he could, and pawed at his shin. Amanda sat there, grinning and drinking her coffee, as she watched them interact. Spencer looked down at Reed, confused. "I think he likes you again and wants to play."

"Is that what this means?" Spencer said picking up the toy.

"Throw it."

Spencer tossed the toy and Reed chased it. He half smiled, watching the dog. He noticed a box on the side table and instantly recognized it. "Why do you have a Star Trek communicator?"

"I happen to like Star Trek. I like the Next Generation better, but I do like the original. It was a gift. Is there a problem with that?"

"Not at all. In fact, I happen to like pretty much all of the Star Trek franchise."

They continued to talk about Stark Trek, horror and psychological thrillers, their work, and psychology. Again, Amanda could keep up her end of the conversation foe the most part. After 1994 she had given up on Star Trek so anything that had come out after that was beyond her. About halfway through their conversation, they went into the kitchen and put on more coffee. She handed him a mug with the caffeine molecule on the side, hers had Rosie the Riveter. She brought out the sugar and creamer so he could put in as much or as little as he'd like. She watched him pour quite a bit of sugar into his mug. She smiled, shook her head and continued the conversation where they had left off. Reed was already asleep in Amanda's room.

By the end of the night, their chat had become more personal. They learned that both of their fathers had taken off, though, Amanda's did so before she was born and she wasn't bitter about it at all. Her grandfather on her mother's side had died when her mother was a teenager and they were from the Andersonville neighborhood of Chicago. So Amanda, trying to fill the void and discover her heritage, filled her life with things she knew he loved. She developed an affinity for the food, the Christmas celebrations, little décor pieces (like Dala horses and Tomtes), and her grandfather's favorite show, M*A*S*H.

Reid spoke of his childhood, his time at Cal Tech and the academy, how his work affected him in both the positive and negative, his hobbies during the rare few hours he has off, Gideon, and his mother. He told her that his mother was a former professor who read to him every night. He talked of what kind of woman and mother she was. He told her that he writes to her every night. He, however, left out the details of her illness and where she is now.

They were finally getting comfortable with each other, Spencer's nervous ticks were few and far between, but there was still a small knot in both of their chests they couldn't place. By 11pm, Amanda was walking Spencer to the door. Before he grabbed his coat, he opened his messenger bag. He handed her the book. He almost told her to read the note he had placed there, but decided not to.

She smiled at him, "Thanks. I'll start tomorrow. I don't know when I'll have time to read so I can't estimate when I'll be able to return it."

"Don't worry about it. Take all the time you need. You have my number now, so call me when you're done or if you need clearing up on anything," he said as he put his coat on.

"I can do that."

Spencer stepped forward to say goodbye. He didn't know whether to kiss, hug, or even give her a handshake goodbye. He ended up lifting his arm in a half wave before rubbing the back of his neck and letting himself out.

Amanda locked the door behind Spencer. She caressed the binding. She started reading the back cover on her way to the bedroom. She had read the first paragraphwhen she looked up and noticed Reed was snoring from the absolute middle of the bed. She was too tired to move him, so she set the book on her nightstand with her glasses on top of it, and tried climbing into bed without waking Reed. This was to no avail. He woke up, walked over to the pillow next to her, and licked her cheek. She pulled him down to her chest, and stroked his back until they were both asleep.

Spencer walked down the hall toward the stairs. He figured, if she read a story a day, including the introduction, she'd get to "About Love," and subsequently, his note, in a week and a half. That is, unless she found it or it slipped out in the meantime. He hoped she didn't find it until then; it would give him time to collect his thoughts.

He opened the door to his dark, quiet apartment. He took a deep breath as he hung up his coat and bag. He rubbed his forehead as he walked through his apartment, to his bedroom, without turning on the lights. He walked into a chair and winced. He made it the rest of his way without incident. Still under the cover of darkness, he undressed down to his boxers. He crawled into bed and scooted over to the middle, and began his letter to his mother. When he was finished, he set it on the nightstand to be sent out in the morning. He then curled up into the fetal position. His lips formed a soft smile as he drifted off to sleep.