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"I guess I'm not making any sense," I said, sitting back. "That's why I didn't even want to start this."
"You're making sense," Misty said. She looked at Star.
"Yeah, you're making sense," Star agreed.
Cat nodded.
"A lot of sense," she said in a voice just a shade above a whisper, "even though it's confusing."
"Huh?"
"That's why we're here, to find a way to live with it," Cat continued and for the first time in three days, all of us looked at her as someone who could bring something to this beside shyness, fear and silence.
Before anyone could speak however, we heard the rattle of glasses and heavy footsteps in the hallway outside the office door.
"Lemonade!" Dr. Marlowe's sister Emma cried and came walking in, carrying a silver tray on which she had a jug of freshly made lemonade and four glasses with a plate of cookies.
"I hope I'm not too early, Dr. Marlowe," Emma said, looking afraid she had interrupted. We all thought it was amusing that she called her sister Dr. Marlowe. Misty suggested she might be a client of her own sister, but I thought that was some sort of a conflict of interest or something.
"No, you're right on schedule, Emma. Thank you."
Emma's plump cheeks rose as her lips formed a rosebud smile. She placed the tray on the table and stepped back.
"Everyone looks so bright and cheery today. It is a pretty day. I hope you'll give them time to enjoy some of it, Doctor. Young girls need sunshine," she recited as if it was some ancient truth.
"I will, Emma. Thank you."
She nodded, flashed another smile at us and left. I think all of us were wondering for a moment if that might be the way we would be years from now. How deep were Emma's wounds in comparison to ours and what happens if you can't mend, really and truly mend?
Will we always be this angry and afraid of forever failing at relationships and therefore always be terrified of being forever lonely? You didn't have to be a psychiatrist to see that loneliness was Emma's problem. It was like some disease affecting her smile, her laugh, her very movement.
"Help yourselves, girls," Dr. Marlowe said and we did. "I'll be right back. I have to check on lunch," she said and left.
Dr. Marlowe is very smart giving us these breaks, I thought. It's too exhausting otherwise.
"Where do you live?" I asked Cat as I reached for a cookie and lemonade.
"Pacific Palisades," she replied. She nibbled on her cookie.
"Where do you go to school?"
"I go to a parochial school," she said. She brushed back her hair.
"I see you cut your hair," I told her and she nodded. "I did it myself."
"It's an improvement," I said, "but you should try to get your mother to take you over to Patty's on Rodeo."
She stared at me as if I spoke a foreign language.
"That's Rodeo as in Rodeo Drive," I said. "You know if you have a good stylist work on it, your face won't look as chubby."
"Maybe she doesn't think she looks chubby. Maybe she's happy with how she looks," Star said.
"I'm just trying to be helpful."
"Sometimes people can be too helpful."
"That's ridiculous. No one can be too helpful," I said. "People who are always sticking their noses into other people's business are too helpful," she countered. "I don't agree. I'm not sticking my nose into anyone's business. I'm giving her the benefit of my experience and my knowledge."
