Forget to Remember

Friday evenings. I try to get out of here right at five. I’m late.”
    Rose scribbled a note on a message pad, opened a door behind her desk, disappeared for a few seconds, and then came back out and closed the door behind her. While the door was open, Carol heard Paul’s voice droning, sounding like a lawyer.
    Rose picked up her purse from her desk and came through a doorway that separated the waiting area from her office. “He knows you’re here. I understand you’re not Cynthia Sakai. I’m sorry. That means you’re still in limbo.”
    Carol smiled. “I’ll find out who I am. Thanks for your help.”
    “You’re welcome. Gotta run. Bye.”
    Rose disappeared through the doorway to the corridor of the building. Carol found she was too nervous to sit down. What did it mean that she wasn’t on Paul’s appointment schedule? She paced the floor and picked up magazines at random. There were the usual family magazines and a copy of Sports Illustrated . She also saw The American Lawyer . Appropriate for a law office. She thumbed through its pages, not looking for anything in particular.
    “I see you made it.”
    Carol looked up and saw Paul coming out of his inside office. He strode over to the door separating the waiting room from the office area and held it open for her.
    “How did you get here?”
    As she went through the doorway past him, she noted he was wearing a blue shirt today with a snazzy tie. His belt contained some sort of blue, semi-precious stone that matched the shirt in what looked like a silver mounting. He smelled pleasantly of aftershave. The aroma jogged something in her memory, but she couldn’t place it. She decided he was better looking than she’d given him credit for.
    “I drove. I got a rental car.”
    Paul’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t say anything. He took her elbow and ushered her into his office. His wooden desk was larger than Rose’s. An expensive-looking pen and pencil set were stuck in holders on a black and gold base and sat on top, as did a large protective pad. Otherwise, the desktop was empty. The main desk had a side piece projecting from it at a right angle. A laptop computer sat on this. Shelves containing law books lined one wall. There was a two-person sofa against another wall.
    Paul motioned toward a padded chair in front of the desk. “Sit down.”
    Carol didn’t want to sit. She wanted to take the goodies and run, but she realized it wasn’t going to be that easy. She sat on the comfortable chair and watched Paul watch her cross her legs. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn a skirt.
    Paul went around to the other side of the desk, but he didn’t sit down. He stood, looking her up and down. Carol felt exposed and uncomfortable as she waited for him to speak. He finished his appraisal.
    “You look very nice today.”
    “Thank you. So do you.”
    He laughed self-consciously, apparently not having expected a return compliment. “Thanks. I didn’t know whether you’d come.”
    “Why wouldn’t I?”
    “I don’t know. I thought you might call and say you needed a ride or something.”
    Carol realized Paul was as nervous as she was. Why was that? He was in control of the situation. “I got the car so I wouldn’t be a burden to anybody.”
    “Commendable. Well, on to business.” He took a key case out of his pocket and unlocked a four-drawer file cabinet that stood against the wall behind the desk. He opened one of the drawers and withdrew a legal-sized file folder. He placed this on the desktop and opened it.
    “I think you’ll find that everything’s here. Passport, driver’s license, ATM card, papers to sign for the bank account, and a deposit slip for five thousands dollars. Oh, and here’s the cell phone you wanted.”
    Paul opened his middle desk drawer, pulled out a phone, and flipped it to her. Surprised, Carol reached for it, fumbled it, and almost dropped it. She finally grabbed it and slipped it into her purse. She stood up.
    “What do I need to sign?”
    Paul placed the bank forms so she could lean over the desk and sign them. “By the way, your middle initial is P. Use it in your signature.”
    “What does the P stand for?”
    “Nothing. I used P because my name starts with P.”
    “So I guess my middle name is Paul.”
    She meant it to be a joke, but nobody laughed. Carol signed the forms and glanced up at Paul to see if there were any more. She realized he was staring at her cleavage, which her fashionable v-neck top