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“A facial?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she opens her laptop and turns the screen to face me, pointing a web cam in my direction. “Before we get to any of that, I want you to tell me about the first time you can remember telling a lie.”
I raise my brow.
“I understand you lied to your husband about your past.”
“Did he put me in here?”
She shakes her head just a touch, so it’s not a flat-out denial. “You put yourself in here. It’s very important you take responsibility, Melanie. That’s the only way change can occur.”
“Maybe I don’t want change.”
“You just asked me for liposuction.”
“That’s different.”
“No,” she says. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Bach?”
She cocks her head. “Excuse me?”
“On your desk,” I motion. “You were playing Bach.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Yes.”
“A piano player?” I’m stalling, and I think she sees it. I recall years of forced lessons. Wonderful memories. All of them.
She nods her head. “Once, a long time ago, yes.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”
She isn’t one for nostalgia. I can tell by the way she redirects the conversation. “Your first lie, Mrs. Anderson. Can you remember?”
I shrug and stare at myself on the screen. It’s scary how you always look different than you think. I really could use a touch up.
“I need you to speak slowly and carefully,” she tells me. “Don’t rush. And don’t leave anything out.”
“What if they don’t like me?” I asked my nanny. My Julia, with her wide hazel eyes and big round belly. Julia, with her caring hands, creaky knees, and soft heart.
“They are going to love you, Miss Mel,” she said. I can still remember her eyes glistening as she called me by my pet name. Julia was probably the only person I’ve ever genuinely liked.
“Look at you,” she remarked, slipping my backpack on my shoulders. “A big girl.”
“I’m five. And when you’re five, you have to go to school,” I told her, repeating my mother’s words. Words I knew were supposed to mean something, but didn’t.
“That’s right, baby girl.”
I felt empty inside. “But I want to stay here with you. Like always.”
“Nah,” she said, fanning the air. “You’ve got too many things to do yet, too many friends to make. “Here—” She held up a bottle of perfume. “How about a little something to keep us close?”
My eyes lit up. I loved Julia’s magic spray. “This way you can think of me and know I’m right there with you,” she said, softly jabbing her finger into my heart.
I giggled as she playfully spritzed some on my dress. For good measure, she dabbed a little behind my ears. Then she pulled me into her oversized chest and held me there. I couldn’t breathe. But I never minded too much. “Now, go. Your Mama’s waiting on you.”
“I love you, Julia.”
