Looks like she doesn't need me any more.
Why couldn't he see it clear as day? It was time to pull the plug. Time to go far away. Time to close up shop and move on . . .
"She's not cheating on you," Goren repeated, scratching the stubble on his right jaw.
Dr. Haber looked utterly bemused by Goren's declaration.
"She's bored," Goren offered, "I've been tailing her for weeks. After she leaves one nightclub, she hits another. When she's finally had her fill, she takes a cab back to her sister's."
"Well," Dr. Haber sighed, "it doesn't account for all of my wife's behavior, but now you've logged in several weeks worth of observation. I just thought I'd have something more substantive by now."
Goren rubbed the small patch of skin between his nose and upper lip, impatiently shifting his weight from his right to his left leg. He'd learned early in life that one should never volunteer any information that was not directly asked for in the first place.
Haber was clearly fishing. But Goren remained silent; eyes fixed to the ground, counting an assortment of pebbles that he'd compiled near the toe of his right boot.
"So, uh," Goren broke the silence while opening up a well used black leather organizer. He shuffled through a stack of uneven papers, pausing before he pulled out a self-addressed stamped envelope, "are we good then? Or do you want me to continue to keep my eye on her?"
"Do you think I need to?"
Goren shook his head no before handing the bill to his latest "paranoid" client.
Dr. Haber narrowed his eyes as though Goren were presenting Haber with a foreign object.
"What's this?"
Goren raised an eyebrow, gesturing yet again for Haber to take the envelope. It was the part of the job he detested most: the collection of payment.
"Can't you just email the invoice?" Haber bristled, "I don't want this laying around the house. This is simply so old school."
"I am old school," Goren grumbled, "and since you won't be requiring further services, there won't be any additional charges, uh, unless of course your payment is late."
Haber frowned, but took the envelope before limping off towards his BMW.
Goren deliberately stomped his feet and scowled as he headed in the opposite direction towards the closest underground. He felt a wave of indignation flare through his system. It never ceased to amaze him how some of his wealthiest clients were often the cheapest assholes on the planet. And this transaction seemed to highlight how his life had changed slowly, but surely over the years. The overcoat he wore sported a hole near the left front pocket, his shoes were scuffed and the soles worn thin. If Eames were here, she'd remind him that "comparisons were odious," but in the wake of dealing with Haber, Goren felt emasculated as he hunted around for loose change in his wallet so that he'd be able to add to his subway fare home.
But it was more than Dr. Haber's obvious disdain. Goren's head had been in a state since he'd read the article about Eames. Over the past weeks he'd fought back the urge to call her on more than one occasion.
Fuck.
He didn't even know if her work or personal cell number had changed. It had been that long. He could try, but something was stopping him.
And the results of not calling her equalled sleepless nights, late night drinking, not to mention using every ounce of self-control in his body not to run to the corner store to pick up a pack of cigarettes - even after he promised her he'd quit.
And he had.
But that was then.
And oh, the wretched amount of time he spent thinking about her. Only a few weeks back, in a recent issue of the Smithsonian, Goren read that researchers now believe that men think about sex at least twenty times a day, in comparison to the every seven seconds bullshit. Either way, in regards to Eames, he'd clearly beat the twenty times a day benchmark. How often? Ten minute intervals seemed to be more accurate. Not that he was obsessing, but he was.
But why now? Why had this turn of events hit him so hard?
He knew that it had something to do with the idea of seeing her move on without him in her life. After all, they'd been together, doing what did so well together for over ten years.
And for fuck's sake, during that time he'd even been given a moment to do the thing that he should have done years ago. He should have told her how he felt about her. Should have asked her if she felt the same way about him.
But it was implied right?
It was through her actions that he knew how much she cared about him.
And he had reciprocated to the best of his ability: demonstrating to her again and again how much he loved her.
And didn't actions speak louder than words?
Goren groaned when his metro card affirmatively declared a negative value. He glanced at his watch, and when it confirmed that it was close enough to the lunch hour, Goren decided to ascend from the underground to catch a bite before his commute home. He hated using credit cards, and the few he had in his possession had low credit limits. He quickly decided to use an ATM in order to have some change for the ride back home.
Less than ten minutes passed and his mind drifted back to his partner Eames.
It was a memory he'd held on to all these years.
A memory of when he went to visit her at the end of her maternity leave.
Walking up to the door of her apartment and ringing her buzzer, he remembered feeling somewhat anxious, not to mention increasingly worried that she wasn't coming back to work. Or perhaps when she did, she wouldn't be the same - or that they wouldn't be the same. They'd worked so well together before the baby, but during this major life-changing event, what if Eames had changed? What if they couldn't find their stride?
After all, it was during Eames' maternity leave that he'd been given the time to really understand how much he cared about her, how much he relied on her, how well they worked together, and most importantly, how much he needed her. Absence makes the heart grown fonder. And just as all of these thoughts culminated in his head, Eames opened the door slowly unable to disguise her pleasant surprise.
"Bobby," Eames beamed brightly, her eyes smiling. In fact, her face was different than he'd remembered, a deeper hue, softer perhaps and rounder?
"Eames," he leaned in, presenting her with a half dozen white roses, "uh, these are white roses from . . ."
And before he could finish his sentence she drew him in close.
Somewhat startled, Goren returned her hug, bending at his knees and hunching down awkwardly to make up for their height difference.
And that was when her lips brushed and made contact, if only for a second, against the crook of his neck - just under his right ear.
"Thanks for coming by," she laughed, "I've actually missed you."
He was still taken aback by her warm embrace and albeit brief kiss, "uh, I-I'm glad you'll be back soon?"
"Yes," Eames confirmed, "but wait, you were saying something?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Those are really nice," she offered, gesturing to the flowers.
"Oh yes, uh," he paused, handing them to her, "t-they're white, which uh, can represent new beginnings."
She returned his gaze almost quizzically.
"New beginnings," he repeated smiling, "or uh, honor and reverence for the new mothe . . . u-uh, I'm sorry, the new aunt."
He saw the expression on her face fall imperceptibly. He jerked back, also unable to disguise the growing desire to kick himself for being so fucking insensitive.
The roses were the first flowers he'd ever brought her. In some of the earliest known traditions giving another white roses might symbolize true love. Of course, they also might represent feelings of love, friendship, respect and hope.
And despite the fact that he'd carefully chosen the roses to represent their new beginning together - it wasn't lost on him that white roses were also used to signify a farewell.
"Thanks for coming by," she laughed, "I've actually missed you."
As Goren heard Eames' voice echo amidst this vivid memory, he was drawn back to reality when he felt the cell phone in his left trouser pocket vibrate.
"Goren," he answered quietly, still very much caught up in his head.
"Robert?"
The female caller's voice was certainly not the voice he'd been expecting.
A.N. Thank you reviewers. I'll try to keep pace. Enjoy. There is still more to come . . .