InSight

detour. “Would you mind stopping at Deluxe Liquor? I’d like to pick up a bottle of wine.”
    “No problem. We got enough time to get there before they close.”
    The wine would settle her down even more. Abby didn’t spook often—she’d trained herself not to—though sometimes a noise outside the house or the sound of approaching footsteps set her on edge. The blind were easy marks for anyone with less than honorable objectives. It’s the way it is and always will be. Nothing she could do about it. Still, despite all she’d learned, the last few minutes demonstrated how vulnerable she was. How goddamn fucking vulnerable.
    Her plan to indulge in a glass of Pinot Noir, have dinner, listen to an audio book, and go to bed changed when she opened the door and the aroma of food wafted in the air.
    “Dinner’s almost ready,” her mother announced.
    “Smells great.” Abby brought the wine into the kitchen, opened the bottle, and poured a glass. If her occasional drink bothered her mother, Lucy didn’t let on. She’d spent years in an alcoholic haze, hit rock bottom, and stayed there until the day Abby was shot. Lucy always made it clear that if Abby wanted a drink, she should have one. Life couldn’t stop because Lucy Gallant was on the wagon. Instead, she created basic but tasty dinners. Fish, chicken, or beef with lots of highly-seasoned vegetables.
    “Have you been busy at work?” Abby asked, settling into a chair at the kitchen table.
    “Just enough framing to keep me from feeling pressured. Even sold a nice drawing today from my secret stash of erotica.”
    Abby grinned. Leave it to Lucy to inventory erotic artwork.
    “Oh, before I forget, you have a message. A man said he was calling for a friend and that you should check your email.”
    “Did you get a name?”
    “I wrote it down. Now where did I put that piece of paper?”
    Abby sipped her wine, hiding a smile at Lucy’s forgetfulness. Abby left her counters clear of clutter, so unless Lucy dropped the note in her cooking mess, it must be on her person.
    “Here it is, in my apron pocket. Wouldn’t you know? Now, where are my glasses?” She giggled. “On top of my head. Okay, let’s see.”
    Abby heard the crinkle of paper.
    “Luke McCallister. That’s his name. Why didn’t he leave a phone number?”
    “He’s deaf.”
    “You mean hearing impaired, don’t you?”
    “No, I mean deaf, like I’m blind and not visually impaired. I hate euphemisms. It’s one more way to avoid reality.”
    Lucy’s fingers brushed Abby’s cheek. “Sorry, honey. Just being politically correct.”
    There it was again. That catchphrase made her cringe. Abby captured her mother’s hand. “I know. I didn’t mean to snap.”
    “So the deaf guy. You were saying?”
    “He had his first session today. Probably wants to tell me he’s not coming back. I’m tired. I don’t know if I’m up to answering an email right now.”
    “His friend said it was important. Have dinner, then decide.”
    Lucy served grilled chicken with tomatoes, onions, and zucchini, spiked with enough garlic to require an industrial strength gargle of Listerine. It boosted Abby’s energy enough to tackle the computer.
    In her office, she activated JAWS, the screen reader program. It announced three emails, Luke McCallister’s being the latest. She’d access the first two in the morning at work, her time for answering correspondence. She put on her headset so her mother couldn’t hear. It didn’t matter that McCallister was a patient. To Lucy, every man in Abby’s life meant a potential love interest.
    The semi-robotic voice read McCallister’s message:

    Dear Dr. Gallant,
    I must admit, I had low expectations of our meeting today, but I was pleasantly surprised. You opened a few doors for me, and though they were doors I might have preferred remain closed, I left your office with a renewed sense of self. I look forward to our next session on Thursday.
    By the way, I didn’t answer your question. No, I do not find your blindness diminishes you as a woman. Quite the contrary. Would you consider having dinner with me?
    Luke McCallister

    Taken aback by McCallister’s unexpected invitation, Abby typed her reply.

    Dear Detective McCallister,
    If you realized any benefit from our first meeting, I am gratified. Counseling is what I do, and I take it seriously. Your invitation to dinner is flattering, and I thank you for it. That said, any contact on a more personal level would