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“That’s a good thing,” I say, speaking around the lump, the way you learn to do with enough practice.
“But I can try.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“I’ve lost things, too, you know. Not my husband. But things that were very important.”
I nod, not only because I am uncomfortable. I hadn’t expected her to be so blunt. No one else is. Not even in DUI class. At the same time, it bothers me. Ann speaks of Ethan as though he is dead. She makes it sound like he is never coming back. This reminds me. “The girl from yesterday…” I say. “Did she go through with it?”
Ann shakes her head. “Not yet. Probably tomorrow.” I want to ask how she knows this. I want to ask a million questions, but before I get the chance, she goes on. “But that’s not why I invited you over,” she assures me. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Thank you.” My gaze stays firmly fixed on the countertop. “These are nice,” I say, tracing the granite, doing my best to
change the subject.
“I want you to know that I’m here if you need to talk.”
“I know,” I tell her glancing up. “We are talking.”
“Right.” She looks away. She checks her phone. “I’ve been thinking about something a lot…” Her eyes meet mine and I’m terrified she’s going to bring up the thing I know. The thing I am not ready for her to know. The thing that will ruin everything between us. “You need work, right?”
“Yes. Well, I mean…I’ve been subbing. But—”
“As I’m sure you’re aware—not that I like to talk about it much, I find work terribly boring conversation—but my book has really taken off.”
I lift the coffee cup and place it to my lips to keep me from saying something I’ll regret. This is the part where I have to pretend not to know even though I do. Everyone around here knows. It’s all anyone talks about. People trip over themselves just to be in her presence. She’s the closest thing to famous this town’s ever seen.
“I was thinking that maybe you’d want to help me in my business.” She leans back against the counter and sizes me up. “I mean… when the subbing is slow. I can be flexible.”
“What do you need?”
Her eyes narrow as though I’ve said the wrong thing. “So you know I’m a psychotherapist…but do you know what else I do?”
I know almost everything about you. “No.”
“I help people, Sadie. Not just through my writing, or the hotline…but other ways too. A lot in my old life—before we came here.”
While I consider what it is exactly that she’s trying to tell me, she continues. “Kind of like…”
“Like yesterday at the coffee shop?”
“Sort of.” Her eyes narrow. “I want to do more to give back—pro bono, of course.”
I smile at her heart of gold.
“But I could pay you. Double, maybe even triple what they’re paying you to sub.”
All of a sudden, I feel like she can sense my desperation. The room starts to spin. Her lips are moving, I can hear her speaking, but the words come out muffled, jumbled and mixed together. I blink rapidly. I can feel myself doing it. Sometimes the anti-anxiety meds have this effect. Or maybe it’s the anxiety. Either way, it causes time to slow. That—or she’s put something in my coffee.
It’s apparent that Ann is waiting for me to say something, probably something about how I’m like her, and I don’t need the money. That I’m blessed to be able to do what I love just for the sake of doing it. That it comes from the goodness of my heart. But we both know that isn’t true. Ann doesn’t do it from the goodness of her heart either. It’s just easier for her to pretend.
“There’s one more thing,” she says. “Neil was less than pleased with his English grade—to tell the truth, I really think his teacher has it out for him. Mrs. Terry. Do you know her?”
“Not very well.”
“Huh,” she says looking toward the door. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, right?”
“It’s just one grade,” I say, and the room goes on spinning.
