The Hole in the Floor - Part IV
In Part III, Michael returns to Paul’s house to continue his work but wants Paul to help him out with a weekend pass to visit his son. Paul agrees but is uncomfortable when he learns that Michael is planning on a surprise visit without coordinating with his ex-wife.
Paul and Michael had agreed that Michael would come again on Thursday morning. Paul was worried about burning through all of his PTO so that he could be at home to supervise Michael's work, which Michael could only do in the early afternoon after his morning shift at The Herald, but Michael had clearly been making progress: part of the hole was covered with sub-flooring and he’d even laid down some of the wood. A majority of the hole was still visible—big enough for Dana to fall into—but at least it was smaller.
Thursday morning came and, to Paul’s surprise, Michael didn’t show up. Paul had been waiting in his living room for the bell to ring, to hear that old van of Michael’s to come puttering up to the curb, but neither came. He tried his cell twice, and both times it went straight to voicemail. His phone in his hand, Paul had paced the living room, thinking of where Michael might be: did he actually go to Pennsylvania to see Anthony? Did his work day last longer than he expected? Did he drink and lose track of himself? All options seemed plausible, which made Paul feel all the worse.
The rest of the afternoon came and still Michael didn’t show up. Paul eventually went to Dana’s school to pick her up and spent the evening trying not to worry about it. He’d call again tomorrow and maybe he’d get him then.
*****
The next afternoon, Paul was in his office, catching up on the notes for that day’s sessions. He’d been busy—four individuals and a ninety-minute process group—and, with all the attention that being a therapist demanded of him, he’d been able to let thoughts of Michael leave his mind. He’d called Michael again this morning, once on Paul’s personal phone and once on his office phone, and again, no word.
Paul was finishing up the note for his day’s fourth session when his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID: Fiona.
A jolt of anxiety shot through him. He wanted to let the call go to voicemail, but he knew he couldn’t dodge her—that could only ever go on for so long.
“Hello?”
“Paul,” she said brusquely, “how’s the day?”
“All good.”
“Good. Look, I’m calling about Michael.”
Paul felt his stomach drop. “Yeah? How come?”
“I called him this morning to have him come in to give a urine, but he didn’t pick up. I called the Herald and they said he didn’t show up today, either.”
Exactly as Paul feared. “Really? I’m surprised.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I saw him earlier this week for an individual and he seemed fine.” For the past two weeks, Paul had written clinical notes for sessions with Michael that’d never happened, just in case Fiona checked on him. “I thought he was doing well.”
“Do you know what might’ve happened to him?”
“No clue. Maybe he’s sick and forgot to call in. He can be forgetful.”
“Yeah, but a bad memory’s not a good enough excuse,” she said. “I’m thinking about stopping by his house later today to see if he’s there. If I can’t get a hold of him by the start of the week, I’m going to reach out to the judge.”
“Can I try getting in contact with him first?” Paul asked. He couldn’t let her talk to him. Michael probably wouldn’t tell her about skipping out on treatment, about Paul leveraging Michael’s termination of treatment for some cheap house remodeling, but then again, if he felt cornered, maybe he would. Paul didn’t know what the consequences would be for that, but they’d be severe. He might not get arrested, but he’d certainly lose his job and might even lose his license to practice. “He trusts me—I think I’ll have a better chance of getting a hold of him.”
“You sure? You don’t need to do that.”
“It’s no problem. I care about him, you know? I want to make sure he’s okay.”
“Well, let me know if you are able to get a hold of him. If you don’t, I’ll swing by his place to do a house check. If we still can’t find him by the start of next week, I’ll let the judge know.”
Paul agreed with her plan and then they made their goodbyes. Once the call was over, he looked blankly at his computer, weighing out his options. As much as he tried to think of others, only one presented itself.
To be continued…
Benjamin Selesnick is a psychotherapist in New Jersey. His writing has appeared in Barely South Review, Lunch Ticket, Split Lip Magazine, The Tel Aviv Review of Books, and other publications. He holds an MFA in fiction from Rutgers University-Newark, and he writes book reviews for the Jewish Book Council and Cleaver Magazine.
Read more of his work here.