Fireproof

CHAPTER 49

This would be a piece of cake, Maggie thought. A disabled Kernan wouldn’t be able to see the reactions his insults and swipes registered. She saw his head tilt, his chin track up—signs of a man depending on what he heard and smelled rather than saw.

“Once again,” Maggie said, “I’m here only because my superior insisted.”

“Oh, that’s right. And they’re always wrong. Aren’t they?”

“They have rules and regulations they need to follow. I understand that.”

He leaned back and his head cocked to the side as if gauging her response. He intertwined his fingers and laid them on his thick chest. That’s when Maggie realized his tie was navy blue but his suit was dark brown. He had no one to help him dress. No one to offer advice before he went out the door. Just the dog, who although he rested in the corner, still kept his eyes trained on his master. But a dog couldn’t tell you that your tie doesn’t match your suit. And suddenly Maggie wanted to kick herself, because she actually felt sorry for Dr. James Kernan.

“But you still believe they’re wrong? That you shouldn’t be here?”

She sat back in the chair, fingers no longer clenched and now resting in her lap. She stared at him and wondered what it was like to be cunning and sharp-tongued, to be brilliant and to win every mental game, and yet be totally alone in the world. No, she didn’t feel sorry for him, she felt uncomfortably like him.

Was this her future? Instead of the paraphernalia from the history of psychology, she’d have strange tokens and memorabilia of the serial killers she had tracked.

Then Maggie thought of Lucy Coy, the old Indian woman she had met in the Sandhills of Nebraska. She’d be content to be like Lucy, surrounded by dogs and quiet and a beautiful landscape.

“Have you become hard of hearing, Ms. O’Dell?”

She’d forgotten to respond and now Kernan would read something into that hesitation.

“You’d much rather be shooting some killer between the eyes. Isn’t that right?”

Ordinarily that jab would have made her wince, but now Maggie caught herself smiling. Kernan’s power to intimidate and humiliate, to make her question herself—all of that was gone. The only thing she saw now was a pathetic, white-haired old man who couldn’t even see her smile.

“I’m a different person than I was five years ago, Dr. Kernan.”

“Is that right?” He smacked his lips together and did his trademark “Tis tis,” which announced he couldn’t be fooled when, in fact, he already had been.

Maggie was about to remind him that he also was a different person than when they last met, but he cut her off by asking, “How long have you been getting the headaches?”

Maggie hadn’t told anyone about her headaches. She knew it wasn’t in the ER report. Sometimes when a person loses one sense the others become more alert. Was that what had happened with Kernan?

“How did you know?”

This time it was his turn to smile.

“You just told me,” he said.

She felt the blood rush to her face. It was the oldest trick in the book and she had fallen for it.

“Now we’re even,” Kernan said. “Perhaps we can start over. I may have lost the better part of my sight, O’Dell, Margaret, but do not underestimate me. Never underestimate your opponent, no matter what you perceive to be his disability.”

“Perhaps this would go much better if you didn’t perceive me as an opponent.” She said it out of anger, but it was exactly how she felt. Wasn’t that what this session was supposed to be about? How and what she was feeling.

She steeled herself for one of his silly, cutting word plays. Instead, he said nothing and stared at a spot over her head, his watery blue eyes magnified behind the thick lenses. He pursed his lips then blew out air, sending his lips vibrating and making a sputtering sound.

Finally his eyes came close to where they might meet hers and he said, “Fair enough.”