Read Online I Like You Just Fine When You're Not Around by Ann Garvin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ann Garvin
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the resident Kevorkian on marriage. I hate divorce and what it does to people.”
“That’s fine,” said Jean with conviction, “then never suggest it. We will put that into the disclaimers, your position on divorce . . . that you know that it is necessary in some situations where either psychological or physical abuse is present, but should not be the first level of remedy or something like that. Our lawyers will write all that stuff. You can oversee that.”
Tig considered this. “I would listen to people’s stories and give them a kind of reality check? Like: ‘No you’re not crazy; making you wear a fireman’s hat to bed every night is definitely one-sided.’”
“Exactly. In the beginning, before people call, you could talk about some of your counseling experiences, give stories of couples. You know, changing the names to protect the guilty and all.”
“No way, Jean. Look. This is not what a counselor does. We don’t tell tales; we don’t judge and punish.”
Jean’s iPhone buzzed. “It’s my assistant.” She narrowed her eyes and said, “Dr. Monahan, you’re going to need an assistant. Macie, are you interested?”
Macie blinked and answered without hesitation. “I’m totally in, Dr. M, let’s do it.”
Jean continued to smile. “Dr. M, yeah, I like that. Okay, now I have to go. I’m having a Bite Me cake from that dog bakery in town, Baking No Bones About It, be delivered to Newman just before he leaves the office today. Don’t you love it? It was my assistant’s idea. A copy of the bra photo is going to be stuck on the top.”
Jean winked at Macie and trained her eyes on Tig. “Think about it; let’s at least try a pilot.” She handed Tig her card. “You can come to the studio, meet our lawyers, and tailor this to your specifications. You’ll see. This is going to be great. What else have you got going on?” Waving over her shoulder, she strode out through the parted glass doors.
Tig put her hands on the reception desk’s cool marble surface. “What just happened?”
“I’m not sure, because I haven’t actually seen it happen before at this job, but I think you just moved on.”
Already deep in thought by the time she reached the double doors, Tig almost didn’t hear Macie call out.
“Dr. M?”
Tig turned, an expectant look on her face.
“I almost forgot to tell you. A nurse from Hope House called.” Macie read from the telephone pad in her hand. “Your mother wants her keys back.”
• • •
Tig drove home, her mind filled with conflicting thoughts about advice-giving, fairness, and whether she should even work or not. “To job or not to job, that is the question,” she said aloud. It was a relief to quiet her heavy thoughts about Pete and her family momentarily. She unlocked her front door and stepped inside. Thatcher, having been returned from the neighbor’s house, sat curled on the couch under the bay window.
“Glad to see you had your usual afternoon, soaking in the rays. I hope you got my taxes done between naps. Scooch over; you’re taking up the whole seat.” She inched the large dog over and sat, running her fingers through the surprisingly soft, wavy hair.
“Do you miss Grandma? I bet you do. I bet you’re lonely when you’re here by yourself.” Tig lifted her face to the late afternoon sun and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she noticed the dust and dying plants on the bay windowsill. She broke a dead leaf off of a philodendron and the entire plant came up, the roots dry and brown.
“Did you know, Thatcher, that some plants have green leaves and sometimes actually bloom?”
A pile of mail lay scattered on the coffee table, including her cell phone and mortgage bill. An empty coffee cup ringed with a dark stain sat next to a crumpled napkin and an uncanceled check made out to Hope House.
Disarray
, she thought.
Trepidation. Proliferation
.
In her mind’s eye, she saw her young mother’s handwriting on vocabulary lists
“That’s fine,” said Jean with conviction, “then never suggest it. We will put that into the disclaimers, your position on divorce . . . that you know that it is necessary in some situations where either psychological or physical abuse is present, but should not be the first level of remedy or something like that. Our lawyers will write all that stuff. You can oversee that.”
Tig considered this. “I would listen to people’s stories and give them a kind of reality check? Like: ‘No you’re not crazy; making you wear a fireman’s hat to bed every night is definitely one-sided.’”
“Exactly. In the beginning, before people call, you could talk about some of your counseling experiences, give stories of couples. You know, changing the names to protect the guilty and all.”
“No way, Jean. Look. This is not what a counselor does. We don’t tell tales; we don’t judge and punish.”
Jean’s iPhone buzzed. “It’s my assistant.” She narrowed her eyes and said, “Dr. Monahan, you’re going to need an assistant. Macie, are you interested?”
Macie blinked and answered without hesitation. “I’m totally in, Dr. M, let’s do it.”
Jean continued to smile. “Dr. M, yeah, I like that. Okay, now I have to go. I’m having a Bite Me cake from that dog bakery in town, Baking No Bones About It, be delivered to Newman just before he leaves the office today. Don’t you love it? It was my assistant’s idea. A copy of the bra photo is going to be stuck on the top.”
Jean winked at Macie and trained her eyes on Tig. “Think about it; let’s at least try a pilot.” She handed Tig her card. “You can come to the studio, meet our lawyers, and tailor this to your specifications. You’ll see. This is going to be great. What else have you got going on?” Waving over her shoulder, she strode out through the parted glass doors.
Tig put her hands on the reception desk’s cool marble surface. “What just happened?”
“I’m not sure, because I haven’t actually seen it happen before at this job, but I think you just moved on.”
Already deep in thought by the time she reached the double doors, Tig almost didn’t hear Macie call out.
“Dr. M?”
Tig turned, an expectant look on her face.
“I almost forgot to tell you. A nurse from Hope House called.” Macie read from the telephone pad in her hand. “Your mother wants her keys back.”
• • •
Tig drove home, her mind filled with conflicting thoughts about advice-giving, fairness, and whether she should even work or not. “To job or not to job, that is the question,” she said aloud. It was a relief to quiet her heavy thoughts about Pete and her family momentarily. She unlocked her front door and stepped inside. Thatcher, having been returned from the neighbor’s house, sat curled on the couch under the bay window.
“Glad to see you had your usual afternoon, soaking in the rays. I hope you got my taxes done between naps. Scooch over; you’re taking up the whole seat.” She inched the large dog over and sat, running her fingers through the surprisingly soft, wavy hair.
“Do you miss Grandma? I bet you do. I bet you’re lonely when you’re here by yourself.” Tig lifted her face to the late afternoon sun and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she noticed the dust and dying plants on the bay windowsill. She broke a dead leaf off of a philodendron and the entire plant came up, the roots dry and brown.
“Did you know, Thatcher, that some plants have green leaves and sometimes actually bloom?”
A pile of mail lay scattered on the coffee table, including her cell phone and mortgage bill. An empty coffee cup ringed with a dark stain sat next to a crumpled napkin and an uncanceled check made out to Hope House.
Disarray
, she thought.
Trepidation. Proliferation
.
In her mind’s eye, she saw her young mother’s handwriting on vocabulary lists
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