His Reason

David looked through the lines of the resume he already knew by heart. The questions he had prepared for Cristine were written on a piece of paper and kept inside the same folder—questions that meant absolutely nothing to him, yet were necessary to make the interview appear realistic.

He looked at Cristine. Her long brown hair—damp and unruly—red face, and green dress almost made him shake his head. He held back the urge confidently. Instead, a polite smile curved his lips.

“Miss Robertson, you worked as an assistant with Dr. Slovenski for three years.”

“Yes, that is correct, Mr. Richards.”

“Excellent. I need someone with experience, and you possess it.” David made sure he sounded excited and interested.

“I was very good at my job, Mr. Richards.”

Her voice sounded steadier now. David continued.

“You have a clear passion for psychology, Miss Robertson. Have you thought about continuing your education in this field?”

“Actually, yes, I have, and I would love to continue and finally get my diploma in psychology, Mr. Richards. But now—”

“Now,” David interrupted, leaning forward as Cristine bit her lip nervously. “I hire people who are fascinated with this field and willing to study.”

What a hopeless case, he thought, scribbling the word “Failure” in tiny, elegant letters on top of her CV.

“Mr. Richards, I thought you were hiring an assistant?”

“Yes, but I am willing to mentor someone who is willing to learn.” He sat back in his chair. “I want to help young people who are struggling but motivated.”

“And what exactly would that mean, sir?”

“It means that if I hire you, you will be working as my assistant—not only organizing my day, but also assisting me in some cases.” He paused, allowing her to process the information.

“You see, Miss Robertson, I need someone unusual. Someone active. Curious.”

“Mr. Richards, I have always been drawn to psychology, and if given a chance, I would certainly want to study.”

Her tense posture and wavering voice amused him.

“That is what I wanted to hear, Miss Robertson.”

“Thank you, sir. If you hire me, I will organize your workday. I will take care of every appointment. I know how important it is for an assistant to manage everything carefully.”

She breathed heavily as she spoke.

“You will not need to remember your appointments yourself because I will remind you an hour before. I will also make sure you have time for lunch breaks as well as time to work on cases.”

David found himself wanting to hear more from her. The raw desperation and excitement in her voice were entertaining.

“I know all the programs used to make planning easier, and I am ready to work hard and learn from you, Mr. Richards. I know you are an excellent specialist, and even the police have turned to you for help.” She breathed out and smiled widely.

“On Monday at 9 a.m., I will be waiting for you.” He graciously opened his desk drawer and got a black business card with his name and office address on it. He handed it over to Cristine.

“Make sure you don’t forget. Be at your desk by 9 a.m., and I will give further instructions on your first day.”

“Does this mean… I am hired?” Her shaky voice filled the office, sounding a bit too loud. David smiled.

“If you are ready to start on Monday, then yes.”

“Of course I am ready, Mr. Richards. Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you, Miss Robertson. I finally found the assistant I was looking for.”

David extended his hand. She quickly stood, took his hand, and gave a warm handshake. Her eyes sparkled, glinting with what seemed to him like tears.

This must be done.
There is no other way.
You need me as much as I need you.

Her sweaty palm felt too warm against his. He withdrew immediately.

“If you have no questions for now,” he said, returning to his chair and turning his head to the computer screen, “you can go, Miss Robertson.”

“I’ll be here on Monday at 9 a.m., Mr. Richards. Thank you once again.”

“Make sure you are on time. It is extremely important.”

“Of course, sir.”

He didn’t look at her, but from the corner of his eye he saw her grab her coat from the chair next to her and walk toward the door—a green spot, too bright, too noisy for his colorless sanctuary.

As soon as the door closed behind her, he inhaled deeply. The jasmine scent faded together with the candle in the next room.

“This went even better than I expected,” he whispered, checking his watch.

“I have twenty minutes.”

He typed in his email password and began checking multiple messages. The workday was going to be busy—but now, for the first time in many years, he had something to wait for.

Waiting had become an inseparable condition of David’s life. He knew how to wait, even though he hated it.