Chapter 27: Psychoanalysis Part 1
Silas’s P.O.V
I awoke when I sensed that enticing smell of jasmine and roses again. I did not rise from my sleep so easily and without protest often, but the scent must have done something to my short temper because not once did I feel impatience bubble up inside me even though I still longed for more rest.
She was back, and she brought food with her.
“Hey,” she said, closing the door behind her. “I got you some food, though I don’t know whether this is to your liking. I think it tasted good.” She crossed the distance from the front door to the living room and placed the bag of food on the table. I sat up from my reclining position on the couch and watched as she took a seat on the adjacent chair.
It was like she knew exactly what I was thinking. Either that or she simply cared about other people enough to know what they needed before they even asked her. The latter was the one that made the most sense, and perhaps that was the reason why she was a doctor, and why she was a good one. Anyway, I had just been wondering, before I fell asleep from boredom and exhaustion, if she was going to give me something to eat for lunch as we had to make do with only a single loaf of bread for breakfast.
“I'll pay you back for the food and for everything else when I can,” I told her. I did not like owing people anything, since there is a huge possibility that they could hold what I owed them against me. Even though a large part of me, my intuition, told me that this woman was not that type of person, I still felt the need to let her know that I intended to do right by her, and that I was not a freeloader. “For the record, I’m not a conman like you think. I actually have the means to pay back what I owe you. Just… not right now.”
“I know that,” she told me, and the tone she used gave me the feeling that she really did. “You don’t become a doctor without knowing how to read people.”
“Really?” I humored her, amused, a ghost of a smirk plastered on my lips. I gestured to the food on the table, eyebrows raised in silent question, and when she nodded eagerly for me to take it. I took the food, a double cheeseburger and medium salted fries, from the bag and began to eat. “You say you’re good at reading people, eh? Then I presume you already have an analysis of my character.”
I was not the biggest fan of fast food, and perhaps it was just because I was starving and could care less about what I was putting in my mouth so long as I filled my stomach, but this double cheeseburger and fries combo felt like the best meal I’ve ever had. I recognized the taste as well, and the sense of familiarity gave me some comfort. “Before that, you bought this from Miley’s Diner, am I right? Good choice.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yes, Miley’s Diner.” She looked like she wanted to say something more, only to decide against it in the end.
“What?” I asked as I wolfed down my food in minutes. “No psychoanalysis about the strange man you found wounded and lying on the floor of your house?”
“Well,” she began, but there were still hints of hesitation in her voice. “If you insist…” She took a deep breath. “I think you come from a household of wealth and power, though I don't know just how much wealth and power one could get in a town as small as this. You’re used to people obeying you without question, so you must have a high ranking of some sort. Maybe you’re the chief executive officer of your company? I don’t really know. What I do know for sure is that you are used to a position of power.”
She pressed her lips together again, no doubt gathering her thoughts. “Anyway, I’m confident that you live and grew up in these parts because one, you would not have stumbled in my cabin in the middle of the night if you were not already in this town.”