Sanderson had dropped the five kids off with Jamie, who had extorted close to fifty dollars plus pizza money, all so he and Diana could go to get their Psyche exams.
He met Diana in the office.
It was an office that made him feel weird.
Since he spent quite a bit of time with Hoot, he was used to being Psychologically analyzed. Since he was a Special Forces soldier, he usually had to be examined to make sure he was still able to handle the job. He'd been at the same job for close to fifteen years.
Sanderson walked into the beige walled and floored room. The colors were meant to calm he had heard, but they gave him the creeps.
The pictures of nature matched perfectly.
Too perfectly.
The furniture was always new. Cream colored sofas and chairs. Wooden tables that were never scratched. New magazines. Always new. Any magazine you could want to read, except porn.
There were two doors in the waiting room.
One coming in from the hall and one going out.
There was no receptionist. When the Doctor was ready, he or she would come out and call your name. Sanderson was always convinced there were cameras in the room. Although he could never find one.
There were four people in the waiting room.
An Asian lady named Marian that Sanderson had seen around the base. A dark haired man that had a temper. At the sight of Sanderson the man lifted his eyebrows, Sanderson returned the gesture, and the man went back to his Sports Illustrated.
On the sofa, by the picture of the Grand Canyon, Diana sat beside Lambross. At the sight of Sanderson, Diana immediately perked up. But then, she tried to be casual. Tried to remain calm. Knowing Lambross could sense sex if the word was thought a mile away.
He glanced up and saw Sanderson, "Jeff. Who're you here to see?"
"You're in my seat," Sanderson told his friend, who looked to Diana. Then back to Sanderson, "I got here first man."
"I have seniority," Sanderson countered, then added, "Don't make me pull a gun on you in the Psyche Ward."
Annoyed, Lambross threw his feet down on the floor, he stomped over to an empty leather plush chair. "God! You sound like my mother!"
Diana crossed her legs and scooted over.
As Sanderson sat down she asked, "The kids?"
"Are with Jamie, she has my paycheck." He finished. He looked over at Lambross, who was on his team, "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at home with your wife?"
The Greek nodded, "Yeah, she's looking at a adoption catalogue. We both have to be psychologically cleared to adopt. It's my turn."
Diana ignored both men.
She slumped against Sanderson, something she had done many times before, so it was not out of the ordinary. Infact, she knew if she suddenly became frigid, and refused to touch Sanderson, Lambross would know something was wrong.
Her green eyes looked at the magazines. She refused to touch them. She knew there were cameras hidden. So the people behind the doors could watch. Watch their patients in their natural behavior. The waiting room always made her feel like a animal on display.
So she stayed still, slumped against Sanderson, while he and Lambross argued over nothing.
When the door opened only Diana looked up.
To see the plucky white women from earlier in the elevator, the woman wore khaki pants, a floral print top, her glasses had thick frames. She looked at her clipboard and called out, "Mrs. Diana Gibson?"
Diana grabbed Sanderson's arm and hissed, "I am not going in there alone. I hate shrinks."
He nodded, "Ok. I'll come too."
Diana stood and waited for Sanderson to tell Lambross something, he then waved to the dark haired man, "See you tonight."
The man saluted Sanderson, then looked down at his magazine.
Diana gave Sanderson a look, he gave her back a gentle push towards the woman, whispering, "That's Earl. The new man on my team."
The plucky woman watched both Diana and Sanderson, when they got to the door she told them, "Mrs. Gibson, I'll need to speak to you alone."
Diana narrowed her eyes at the woman, the gesture intimidated the woman enough she stepped back, but once she realized it she stood up straight. But it was too late. The damaged had been done.
Diana then told the woman, "The last time I had to come done to the nut house, you people tried to put me on Prozac. You people also sent me to sensitivity training and grief counseling. There's no way in hell I am sitting alone with you people again. He comes in or I go."
The woman knew she was not going to win from Diana's tone. And her file. So she looked to Sanderson, "And you would be Jeffery Sanderson?"
It had been a long day, annoyed, Sanderson met the woman's eyes, "Moss?"
She nodded, "Dr. Moss."
Diana rolled her eyes and looked heavenwards.
Sanderson pointed to the files in her hand, "Don't tell me my picture is not in that stack of files."
Moss was unsure of what to say to the two.
"Which door is it and we'll meet you there," Sanderson told her.
Moss stepped back and pointed down the similar hall, "Third door on the right."
At that, Diana led the way down the hall. Sanderson behind her while the Dr watched the two. While some of her immediate assumptions on her two new patients were correct. Both had surprised her. She watched as Diana lead the way, walked into the room and Sanderson close the door behind them. She then went to go get his file.
In the room, Diana looked around.
All the furniture was oak.
The huge desk. The bookshelf. The couch and chair, which had red cushions.
A stereotypical Psychiatrist office.
Diana looked to Sanderson, who asked, "You think the room is wired?"
She nodded, "Yeah," then she walked to the only window, which overlooked the parking lot, and opened it.
With a grin Sanderson dropped down on the sofa.
Knowing full well that the open window would fill the recorders with static. Knowledge from experience.
He watched Diana walk over to the woman's desk and take a seat. He watched her flip open the calendar, then flip through it. When she didn't see anything particularly interesting, Diana closed it. She looked over the messy desk. Spotting a notepad, with her name on it, Sanderson's as well. Diana grabbed it and looked over the writing.
She then lowered it and looked to Sanderson, who lifted his eyebrows curiously.
"Am I volatile?"
He shook his head, "Not you. You're just misunderstood."
Happy with his answer, she looked over the pad. Then dropped it and got up. She traced her fingertips over the desk as she made her way over to Sanderson. She dropped down beside him.
Then pulled her legs up underneath her, leaning against his side.
Taking comfort in him just being there.
Sanderson put his arm behind her and began to rub her back, just slow gentle circles.
It calmed her nerves.
Which helped when the door opened and Dr. Moss walked in the room.
File less.
She looked at both Diana and Sanderson, who didn't seem to notice the woman. She took a particular interest in the body language between the two.
There was no personal space between the two.
Diana leant completely against Sanderson's side, her head rested upon his shoulder while he whispered against her hair, his hand behind her back.
She had read the files on them both and knew they were both widows. She knew they were close friends before they moved in together. But, out of all the books she had read and studied about couples, intimacy, even love. She hadn't ever seen it up close. Outside of a case study. Dr. Moss had no time for love or even intimacy with her career.
She walked to her desk to see what Diana had touched.
While Diana didn't even look at her, Sanderson's blue eyes followed Dr. Moss around the room.
Satisfied, Dr. Moss then took a seat at her desk.
She cleared her throat, Diana looked up at her while Sanderson's gaze remained as intense as ever. For the first time in her professional career, she felt uncomfortable. So she quickly asked, "You two live together? Correct?"
Diana nodded, while Sanderson lifted his head, "Yeah."
"And how long have you been sexually active," she asked.
Both of them were confused, so she elaborated, "Together."
At that Sanderson shook his head, "We're not sleeping together."
Dr. Moss smiled like you would smile to a child, "There is no reason to lie. We're all adults."
Tired, Diana rubbed her face, "No lady, seriously, we're not sleeping together."
Patiently, Dr. Moss asked, "What about earlier today? In the elevator? That was pretty intense."
Diana looked up at Sanderson, so Dr. Moss couldn't see and mouthed, virgin. He smiled and then to Dr. Moss, "That was kissing. Not foreplay."
With raised eyebrows, she looked down and wrote something on her pad.
Diana checked her watch, which prompted Dr. Moss to ask, "Do you have somewhere to be?"
Diana laughed, she laughed and shook her head, "Oh sweetheart. You're so innocent."
While Sanderson smiled, Dr. Moss asked, "Beg Pardon?"
Diana patted Sanderson's legs, until he cross his one leg over the other, which provided Diana with a headrest. As she situated herself she told Dr. Moss, "I was up at four with a vomiting child. I went to work for twelve hours. Helped write two papers and do Algebra, which between you and me, probably isn't correct. Not to mention I have to pack. Put a splint on the wing of a chicken. And clean up the house. So, I'm gonna lay down and let Sanderson answer your questions."
Stunned, she watched Diana lay down, length wise on the couch, then put her head in Sanderson's lap.
She looked to Sanderson, who shrugged, "It doesn't matter. The both of us are going regardless of what you say. Robinson will overrule your analysis anyway. Poke and prod, do what you want. I really don't care."