"Well, let's see what we can get into," she mumbled aloud to herself.
She pulled open the top drawer of one of two filing cabinets and was pleased when she found just a few pieces of paper and a pencil that had been snapped in half. She placed her purse in it to keep it out of sight. She didn't want it to be a temptation to anyone. She walked over to the lone window, pushed the curtains back, and then turned on theoverhead light, grimacing at the harsh glare. She liked softer lights like lamps. They didn't feel as overwhelming.
She began looking through the other file cabinet, flipping through papers that, according to the dates, probably should have been shredded a year ago. She spied a shredder in the corner and plugged it in, bending at the waist and wishing she had more comfortable shoes to change into instead of her platform heels. With the machine now on, she began placing small stacks in the opening, watching it slowly grind them into bits. She did that for a while before becoming bored and deciding to move to the desk.
The computer and keyboard dwarfed the small desk. She sat in the chair, and her heart leaped as its back fell off, thunking onto the floor. "What the hell?"
She stood with a frown and picked up the chair back, jumping when someone knocked on her open door.
"I see you're getting your first glimpse at the high-quality furniture that Turtle Grove Rehabilitation is known for," quipped the southern, husky drawl of Kerrie Matthews behind her.
Bette sucked in a breath and turned. Kerrie leaned against the door frame, where she occupied most of the space. In her hand was a plastic bag. Bette sighed. "Just add that to all the other amazing things about this place. Can I help you with something?"
Kerrie winced. She walked over to the desk, grabbed a plastic chair from the corner, and placed it in front of it. She motioned for Bette to take it while carefully sitting on the now backless desk chair seat. "I deserve the chilly attitude. Please have a seat."
Bette glared at her and the offered chair but took a seat anyway, perching on the end of it. She watched Kerrie pull out snacks and a few drinks. "Hungry?"
Kerrie chuckled and nodded. "I'm always extra hungry on what I like to call Odd Pasta Day. I never stay full on pasta for some reason."
"I saw that tray. It was... interesting," said Bette, remembering the plate she saw someone eating at lunch. It was like someone tossed every half-empty box of noodles of different types in a pot and added red sauce, along with a premade chicken sandwich patty and salad with two cherry tomatoes cut in half and a few shreds of carrots. Terrance and the others had laughed at it.
In fact, they'd made snide remarks about the cafeteria food a few times now. She had arrived early and dropped by the kitchen to see if Elaine had any coffee to top her thermos off. One of the guys offered her some of the leftover food, and since she had only grabbed a protein bar for breakfast, she gladly accepted a to-go plate with bacon, scrambled eggs, anda mandarin orange. She still had the orange in her bag. He had apologized for not having any hash browns left, but she had assured him she was thankful for the plate. At lunch, The Main counselors made fun of the lunch being served that day when they saw the front lobby desk guy walk by with his plate. Their holier-than-thou behavior reminded her of the movie Mean Girls. The guy, Dennis, most likely didn't make much money, and one of the perks of working there was free lunch. Why food-shame not only other staff but the clients it was being provided to? Bette didn't like their self-righteous attitude.
"What are you thinking? You left for a minute."
Bette shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Just something that was said earlier at lunch." She shrugged, avoiding eye contact.
Kerrie paused, then said, "Let me guess. Someone made a snide remark about the lunches?"
Bette looked up quickly. Was she that transparent? "How did you know?"
Chuckling, Kerrie grinned, her warm brown eyes crinkling at the edges. "I don't know if you've noticed yet, but it's a little cliquey here. The Main is like the popular kids and turns up their noses at the rest of us. Not all of them, but the loud ones drown out the cool ones. The Tindle Street crew thinks they do things no one else does, even though we do the same thing here. They're mellow, though, so not bad. Then there's medical that pretty much lives on a completely different planet."
"And The Church?" asked Bette with a raised eyebrow.
Kerrie's smile turned mischievous. "The Church is like the island of misfits. The rejects. The upside of that is people leave us alone. The downside is that people leave us alone. You'll get used to it. Now, on to the really important thing."
Bette cocked her head to the side and waited for the counselor to go on.
Kerrie's infectious smile turned to a sincere look. Hard lines softened, becoming more youthful and taking a few years off her tired face. "I'm sorry I was such an ass the other day. I've been more than a little overwhelmed lately, and I took my frustration out on you. You didn't deserve that."
Bette opened her mouth, then shut it again. She hadn't expected Kerrie to be so upfront with her. To be humble and honest. "I, uh, well, thank you."
Nodding, Kerrie met Bette's gaze, and the intensity in them sent a shiver down Bette's spine. Kerrie didn't break eye contact as she spoke with a hint of raw emotion in her voice. "I'm not good at asking for help or taking it, for that matter. I promise I'll try to do better, but feel free to call me out if I'm an ass again."
Brutal honesty wasn't something Bette was used to. She couldn't remember the last time someone apologized to her instead of just trying to smooth things over. Her ex-wife was the queen of unaccountability. She'd send a gift or distract her with something new. Never did she just say she was sorry. It had led to many fights both at work and at home. All Bette wanted was an apology. Even her own mother never apologized for her actions. Instead, she would gaslight Bette into being the bad guy. Kerrie was different. She was admitting she was human and would likely mess up again and even asked for Bette to help hold her accountable. Inviting Bette to express herself when she was wronged. What was this? Bette's heart raced a little faster as she swallowed down a lump. "I appreciate that. Really. It's refreshing to hear someone actually say they're sorry."
"Good, I'm serious, though. Call me out. I'm a big girl. I can handle it," teased Kerrie. "Now, along with my apology comes an apology treat. I didn't know if you were a chocolate woman or a savory woman, so I got both."
Bette stared down at the Hershey bar and the beef jerky and cheese stick combo pushed in front of her. The woman bought her treats. How utterly foreign. Laughter bubbled up from her chest as she shook her head. Her heart was touched by the words 'I'm sorry' and a candy bar from a convenience store. Shelly used to give her Prada sunglasses and expensive flower arrangements when she was in the wrong. It was absurd. She glanced up, heat tinging her cheeks. "You got me a treat?"
Kerrie grinned big, picking up a bag of spicy peanuts and ripping the corner open with her teeth. "It works for my brother, too. He loves a treat."
"Are you two close?" asked Bette as she joined Kerrie by picking up the chocolate bar. She tore off the wrapper and then pinched off a corner between two pale pink manicured fingers. She broke off a piece and placed it on her tongue before closing her eyes in delight at the sweet, chocolatey flavor. It had been years since she slowed down enough to just enjoy a bite of chocolate. She opened her eyes to find Kerrie staring at her lips.Looks like I'm not the only one to notice looks around here.
"Sweets gal it is," Kerrie observed approvingly, averting her eyes back to her peanuts. "To answer your question, we are really close. I take care of him."
Something chimed in the back of Bette's mind, and she remembered that morning's meeting. "Kenny? The one you mentioned this morning breaking his arm?"
