There was something about getting a new job that made everything feel so final. Like it was reality, finally smacking her in the face. The only thing Bette had been working hard at lately was living in avoidance of the truth. For a while, she pretended that it was just a break. She and Shelly would get back together. They would work it out. But she knew better. The hateful way Shelly had treated her. Taking everything away from her andleaving her destitute. Calling her cold. Ripping her pride to pieces like a paper shredder. Mounting attacks on every facet of her life: her parenting skills, emotional needs, being boring in bed, even once mentioning how she was no longer attracted to Bette's "mom" body. A body that carried their child for 41 weeks and two days. Then, like pushing Bette off a cliff to her final end, she moved Jenna the Toddler, into their marital home. She gave the beautiful home that she and Shelly had built and raised Zoe in over to a 23-year-old blonde who couldn't even use the professional kitchen inside it. She was only two years older than their daughter, for fuck's sake.
Once out of the shower's safe confines, she quickly got ready, choosing a lovely cornflower blue top with flouncy sleeves paired with tailored navy blue wide-leg slacks. She blow-dried and styled her blonde hair into a bun, her bangs swept to one side. She added some jewelry and her favorite pair of red-bottomed black pointed high heels. They always gave her extra confidence, and any ounce of confidence she could get today would be enormous. She couldn't help but feel like she was lowering herself, but then again, she had already hit rock bottom, so she was as low as she could go unless she grabbed a shovel and started digging. She would scrape her pride off the ground some other time.
She found Zoe sitting in the kitchen, shoveling scrambled eggs into her mouth. She nodded while Bette's mother, Clara, chatted away about one of the ladies at her church. Apparently, the woman's son had decided not to go to college, and the woman was having an existential crisis over it.
"Oh, look who finally decided to join us," remarked Clara as she turned away from the stove to give Bette a once-over and then a twice-over, her eyes growing more critical as she went. "Hair up? Do you really think that's the best first impression? Like you couldn't be bothered to curl it?"
"I think you look lovely," countered Zoe. She winked at Bette. "Momma looks like she could take on the world."
Clara snorted, a sound she wouldn't have made outside the private walls of her home. She had an image to uphold. "She's interviewing to be a secretary at a rehab. I highly doubt that's the start of the ladder to take on the world."
"An office assistant, Mother, not a secretary. There's more to the position than answering phones."
"Either way, you're going to be working around convicts. I can't believe how low you are.
"Can I have some more eggs?" Zoe interjected loudly, holding up her plate.
Clara huffed, a hand on her hip. "You're going to turn into an egg, child."
"I'm a growing young woman," teased Zoe.
Taking the plate, Clara pointed a wooden spatula at her. "You're 21 years old. You keep eating like this, and you'll get fat."
"Mother," warned Bette, shaking her head.I've got to get out of here.
Zoe rolled her eyes when her grandmother's back was turned. As if reading Bette's mind, Zoe leaned in close, whispering. "Getting out of here should be your motivation for landing a job."
She wasn't wrong. Every moment in her childhood home was hell. She mostly barricaded herself in her bedroom, but her mother never failed to interrupt her personal space. She had been there just a week when she caught her mother going through her things after she had left the house for a couple of hours to talk to her divorce lawyer. Bette immediately ordered a lock for her door, which her mother threw an epic fit over.
After finishing her breakfast, which consisted of coffee and buttered toast, as the butterflies in her stomach suggested it wouldn't be wise to eat more, she bid Zoe and her mother goodbye and got into her SUV. She had never been so thankful for paying off a vehicle. There was no way she could have afforded the payment now. As she slid onto the cool leather of her seat, she shut the door and put her head against the steering wheel, taking a few deep breaths. She had gotten a lot farther than she had expected this morning, and she probably would not have gotten out of bed if it hadn't been for Zoe, but her kid was right. She needed to start moving forward, even if it felt like she was walking in quicksand.
Jobs in Roark, Tennessee, were sparse, but then add Bette's limited resume, and she couldn't afford to be picky. She had been kicking herself since the separation that she had allowed her younger self to drop out of college with only one more semester to go to help Shelly with her dream of being a successful lawyer. She had poured herself into a business with her ex, putting everything on the back burner to see that she succeeded. They were supposed to grow old together. They were supposed to form a lasting empire, but now she realized that was a facade. Over the last four or five years, she couldn't remember the last time they had a conversation where it was just the two of them enjoying each other's company. Everything had been about the law firm, Zoe, or something that would elevate Shelly's social status. And that's if she was being honest with herself. Bette had been caught up in the swiftness and flashiness of their lives. She did enjoy the nicer things. There was no denying that. But no matter how many prettytrinkets she had or how beautiful her home was, she didn't have fulfilling relationships. Her friends were just connections, and a relationship with Shelly was a business transaction at best. That had been a bitter pill to swallow while she was hibernating in her self-exile over the last few months.
As she pulled up to Turtle Grove Rehabilitation Center, she was met with a plain, deep red brick building with dozens of windows and boring, dry shrubbery. Whoever decided that red mulch was a good choice for the flower beds should have been fired, as it made the brick building appear like it was melting into the ground. The impersonal building looked like one large lump of red clay. The brown window accents only deepened the gloom.
"Gee, that's not the best first impression," Bette muttered to herself. "Who would look at this place and think,I'm excited to change my life?"
She gave the drab building another once-over before putting her phone on silent and tossing it in her dark leather shoulder bag. She breathed deep, her lungs filling with peach air freshener, and then let it out slowly. "You can do this, Bette. You're more than qualified to do this."
With her personal pep talk, she opened the door, stepping out into what would hopefully be the first step in the right direction.
The inside of the rehabilitation center wasn't even remotely more visually pleasing. The flooring was reminiscent of 1970s hospital floors with gray specks on yellowed tiling. The walls reminded Bette of yellow American cheese that had been left out on a plate overnight before being tossed into the trash. Everywhere seemed to be a vomit of sad yellow.Must have gotten it on discount.
The front lobby was buzzing with activity. Men, young and old, tall and short, clean-cut and dirty, shuffled about. Some cast curious glances her way while a few others stared openly at the newcomer. A desk was situated in front of the double glass doors; a few file trays and a dented metal pencil holder sat on the top ledge, and behind it was a man with jet-black hair and a raised scar on his right cheek. She plastered on her best professional smile. "Hi, I have a meeting with Tyler at 9."
"I'll let him know. Have a seat," he instructed, motioning to a set of chairs beside her and a beat-up old couch on the opposite side of the lobby with spots of peeled fake leather missing. An older man with a too-friendly smile sat on one end, his arm resting on the back. She chose the plastic chairs, setting her purse on her lap, half for protection and half to keep her hands from fidgeting.
Bette watched a small cluster of men walk by and down a long corridor that resembled a school hallway. She knew the campus was fairly big, but she wasn't sure if the men slept in the building. She had done some research beforehand, but not enough to understand the place's ins and outs. She noticed they were all wearing name badges on the left of their shirts. She assumed that was some kind of identification process for the clients.
It wasn't long before a man poked his bald head out of an office door to her right. "Bette?"
She nodded, standing up to greet the man. She held out her hand and shook his. It was firm but a little clammy. She resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her slacks when they released. "Yes, I'm Bette Cooper. You must be Tyler Elrod. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Tyler Elrod was the same height as Bette in her heels and had an average build. He nodded at her, his blue eyes locking briefly with her own. "Same, same. Let's go into my office."
His office was a disaster: piles of papers and books, two monitors on one desk, and beside him, another sitting on top of a side table that showed 12 squares of security footage from around the building. The walls were dull gray, but a large window behind him brightened the room enough that it didn't feel as sad as the lobby and exterior of the building, but it did feel like the inside of a filing cabinet.What did these people have against uplifting environments?
"Have a seat," he said, motioning to two chairs across from his desk. She perched on the end of one, back straight as a rod. "Well, how about you tell me a little about yourself?"
