“Yeah. I get itchy. My skin literally itches. I get black spots in my vision, and I feel like I’m going to pass out.” She paused. “And Teddy, it’s getting worse.” She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, and when she opened them, she leaned closer to the phone and looked intently at me. “After you left, I regretted not letting you stay here. I realized that if you’re not doing your usual touring stuff, where you have your army of handlers and a prescribed schedule, anything could happen. I think that’s why I’m telling you about this now. Because it feels like… it’sspreading to you. Not like it’s contagious, but like I’m going to start having the same panicky feeling about you now. What if you got lost in a forest in Minnesota and I had to fly out there and, I don’t know, find you?”
This was why she’d been so freaked out when we’d spoken that night. This was big. But it wasn’t something we could solve right now, so I decided to try to lighten the mood. “They have park rangers for that.”
“What if I had to fly out there and identify your body?”
“They have FaceTime for that.” But maybe she wanted me to push her, not protect her, which was always my instinct. “I would, however, love to see you. But coming here sounds like it would be too much too soon. Why don’t we plan to work up to taking a trip together? Somewhere less dramatic than northern Minnesota. But you need to talk to someone. Besides me. In addition to me. I can help you find the right person.” I had no idea how people went about finding therapists, but I’d figure it out. “I’ll go with you if you want. Hell, I’ll find my own therapist. I’ll get someone lined up for the fall, when I’m back in town.”
Weirdly, this situation with Auden was making me feel better about the demise of the band. This was something that needed my attention. A way to be useful. Which I realized was just more of me making Auden’s shit about me, but hey, baby steps.
She smiled weakly. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course.” I hesitated over saying more. But maybe it would help her to hear it. “Honestly, I’ve been doing my own reckoning up here, with regard to the Mom stuff. Realizing it has more of a hold on me than it should, or than I’d like it to. I’d like to… get out from under it.”
She looked somewhat cheered. “So maybe we can… try to do that together? Or in parallel?”
“It’s a deal.”
“Tell me something about you before we hang up, so I feel like less of a freak.”
I knew she was wanting to end the conversation on a lighter note, and while I normally never would have told her about Gretchen, I felt like she’d told me something big, and I wanted to do the same. Not that this was big. It was, as Gretchen said, about her getting her last hurrah. Though of course I was enjoying myself, too. So not big, but the kind of gossipy news that would make Auden squeal.
“I have spent every night for the past week sleeping with a woman here. That’s why I haven’t been answering your calls.”
“What!” Her shriek was gleeful, which was what I’d been aiming for. “Is this the woman you got lost in the woods with?”
“Yep.”
“Tell me about her.”
“It’s casual—a camp fling. There’s nothing to tell.”
“I’m not saying kiss and tell. Tell me some stuff abouther. What’s she like? Is she a musician? Come on. Throw me a bone.”
“She’s a dancer, the ends of her hair are dyed pink, and…” The next thing that came to mind was her thighs, but I couldn’t say that. “She kind of pushed me into this reckoning I was talking about.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. This does not sound casual.”
“It is casual. Casual just means we’re taking advantage of our circumstances. It doesn’t mean she can’t have an impact on me. She’s smart that way. She grew up poor, like us. She knows shit.”
“You sound smitten.”
“I’m notsmitten. I’m just telling you the facts. If you want to add wild interpretations to them, that’s your business.” I was getting annoyed now.
“Is Karlie still in your apartment?”
“I… don’t know.” I hadn’t thought about Karlie for weeks. I also didn’t know why it mattered. Except… it sort of felt like it did.
12
STUMBLE THROUGH
Gretchen
“I think I made a mistake assuming we needed a boy for Laurie.”
I looked out at a sea of surprised faces and tried not to fidget. I’d called a special weekend meeting of the dance group, and I was here to apologize.
I’d never had to do that before, and it was making me twitchy. At my studio, I ruled with a (cheerful) iron fist. I enforced Miss Miller’s Morals. I choreographed recitals and taught the kids their parts. I was the boss.
