Read Online Random Acts of Kindness by Lisa Verge Higgins - Free Book Online

over.
    Nicole tilted her head in that trademark e mpathi c-th erapis t way. “Running away solves nothing.”
    “Technically, you can only run away if you have a home to run away from .” Jenna found herself gripping her own shoulders. “And if Nate has his way today, he’ll get to keep that, too.”
    Every time she came close to thinking about what was written in the petition of divorce, the walls closed in on her. No room was big enough. It was like she was called in Mr. Chella’s class, sent up to the front to read her essay aloud, twenty-six pairs of eyes staring at her, and a pulse pounding in her ears and someone snickering in the back. She opened her mouth, and the words froze. Suddenly there was no air in the room, nothing for her to suck in and breathe.
    She had to get out .
    There was a coffee shop downstairs. She’d smelled the aroma of roasted beans in the lobby. If she had a shot of espresso, maybe she could stop her ribs from squeezing. Maybe she’d stop choking on the attention and the concern and the pity.
    “Hon, why don’t you sit down for a piece?”
    Claire loomed up in front of her so fast that Jenna swayed back a step. Zoe used to perform this trick back when her daughter was in the Harry Potter stage. The girl would leap out from behind a doorframe with her cape flying, stopping Jenna on a stutter when she cried out, Look, Mom, I Apparated!
    Jenna tried to step around Claire, but Claire only shifted her stance, so Jen said, “What, are we twelve years old now?”
    Claire’s smile went soft. “You did a lot a running back then, too.”
    “I just need some air.”
    “Then I’ll open the window.” Claire put her hand on her shoulder, warm and weighty, urging her down into the sofa without actually using any force. “It’s stuffy in this room, that much is true.”
    Jenna felt the cushion give beneath her. Claire moved away in a rustle. Jenna thought if it were just her and Claire in this room she wouldn’t have any problem speaking freely. Claire would listen. Claire always listened. When the old newspaper clipping of Jenna coming in second runner-up in the Little Miss Pine Lake pageant had somehow been passed around school, making her the butt of excruciating teasing for the pink tulle dress and the clown-cheek makeup, it was Claire to whom she confessed that her mother had forced her to enter. It was Claire to whom she confessed that she’d frozen in the floodlights and tripped over the heels her mother insisted she wear. It was to Claire that she’d confessed how disappointed her mother had been when she didn’t win the sad consolation prize of Miss Congeniality.
    Claire fiddled with the window, rattling the latch until Jenna felt a breeze blast against the back of her head. “We’d better keep these sheer curtains closed against flies,” Claire murmured. “The screen is stuck wide open. Lucky can’t jump this high, can he?”
    “No,” Jenna said, distracted. “No, he wouldn’t try.”
    “Well, I’ll tell the front desk about it later.”
    “Jenna.”
    Now it was Jenna’s turn to grope for a throw pillow to press against her chest, as she glanced up to find Nicole perched on the edge of her chair.
    “This is way above my pay grade,” Nicole began, in that soft therapist’s voice that made Jenna’s skin crawl, “but I know this much: There are certain life events that are the most stressful things that anyone can experience. They’re the things that knock you flat. Loss of a job is in the top five. So is divorce.”
    Jenna snorted. “No kidding.”
    She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw Nicole flinch. Or maybe it was just the slightest of muscle spasms in Nicole’s throat.
    In any case, Nicole plowed on: “Did the divorce papers follow the job loss? Or has this divorce been in process for a while?”
    “I got the pink slip at my job last Friday afternoon.”
    She’d driven home that day in a haze with the contents of her desk rattling in the trunk