Suspended - Part II
“Suspended” is a fictional story about a New York family — husband, wife and college-aged son — who’ve become disconnected from one another and lost their sense of purpose until a beautiful young woman who claims she’s a hands-on-healer enters their lives and shakes everything up.
THIS IS PART 2 of a FIFTEEN-PART STORY
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15
At a conference in San Diego, Rich met a woman. It was April, not quite a year since Danny’s suspension from Harvard. The woman's name was Fiona Davis, but she preferred to be called Fee. She was in her mid-forties, tall, blond and slender, with blue eyes that seemed to burn right into him. Rich shared a table with her at breakfast the second morning of the weekend. He'd only been acquainted with her a few minutes, but found he wanted to talk to her, really unburden himself almost right away. "My marriage isn't too great," he blurted for no reason he could think of. Then went red with embarrassment.
"That’s all right,” she said in a voice so kind it almost brought tears to his eyes. “People tell me all sorts of things. You don't have to feel funny."
She had been divorced ten years and had no children. She was from Taos, New Mexico, though now she lived in Texas. Her blue eyes, peering out of a clean-swept, naturally pretty face, were clear and warm and through the thin material of her shirt Rich could see the outline of small, firm breasts -- she wasn’t wearing a bra. “You don’t look like an ophthalmologist,” he said, noting the long silver pendants that hung from each ear, the loose white yoga pants and slender feet in Birkenstock sandals.
Image: Breakingpic (Pexels)
She laughed. “Maybe because I’m not.”
Rich smiled at her, confused. Most of the people at the conference were opticians or ophthalmologists.
“I’m here to learn about eye repositioning and its effect on the brain,” Fee said.
“Oh. So you’re a neurologist?”
“Not really. Well, sort of.” She scooped her hair up off her neck as if she were hot. “I have this ability to help people dissolve physical and mental blockages by moving their energy around.”
Uh-oh, a weirdo, Rich thought, disappointed.
She released her hair and slowly searched his face. “I’m a healer. I’m here to expand my gift, learn new techniques.”
He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this. “You see auras?” he said finally.
“Sure I do. Yours is somewhat thin.”
A smile hovered at the corner of his lips, but he decided to take her seriously. “I guess that’s not good, is it?”
She continued to look at him. “Well,” she said after a minute, “the composition of the aura -- its density and coloration -- can change very quickly, kind of like the weather. Yours is grayer than I like and could use a little work.”
“What kind of work?” Rich asked. This new age woo woo stuff had always seemed foolish to him.
“Meditation, walks in nature, silent retreats.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t believe me, huh? Well, I’ll tell you this: I can pick up on the energy of the people around you. You have a son, right?”
Rich nodded.
“He’s in a lot of pain right now, a lot of anguish and sorrow.”
She worked on Rich’s sciatica — in her room, which had the exact same layout as his, but seemed sunnier, brighter. He lay on her bed and breathed in the amber scent of her perfume and the rich, aromatic scent of the candles on the dresser.
Her hands inched slowly over his body, never actually touching though he could feel heat surging into his skin from her palms. He wanted desperately for her to stroke him.
Saliva pooled in his mouth. He was fully dressed but felt as if he were naked. She worked on him twice. After the first session his sciatica had noticeably decreased; after the second it was gone. Both times his flesh ached for the feel of her fingertips, but the only time she actually touched him was when they hugged goodbye on the last day. "We'll stay in touch, right?" he asked.
"Of course. We'll email. Maybe I'll even visit you in New York."
Cover Image: Cup of Couple (Pexels)