Brady arrives right before their time is up. Rory stands to greet him with a self-conscious wave. She’s in lightweight jeans and a white V-neck cotton shirt with a braided belt. Her hair is pulled back with a pink and brown polka dot scarf revealing simple diamond studs on each ear. I’m not claiming love at first sight, but he definitely notices her.
“So you’re the infamous Rory Murray.”
Rory tucks her chin toward her shoulder, mortified. “I had no intention of being infamous. Eve told me about her interpretation of our talk last week.”
Brady chuckles with more levity than he feels. “Yes, well, what can you do?”
“Glad there’s no hard feelings.”
He shakes his head. “This sounds crazy, but you look familiar.”
“I was so hoping you wouldn’t piece it together,” she says, laughing. “You saw me trip and fall at CVS a few months ago.”
Brady smiles. “That’s right! That was you.”
“The one who falls always remembers the witnesses.”
Brady runs a hand through his hair. “Can I admit something terrible?” No, I coach. Don’t. But he’s such a Boy Scout he can’t help himself. “I’m the jackass who left the basket in the aisle.”
Why? Why? Why? She never would’ve known. All my work and— wait. She’s laughing. Hard. I would have been mad, but Rory is laughing.
“You totally pawned it off on someone else!” she says.
He slaps his palm to his chest. “I know. That was awful. It happened so fast and the words flew out of me and … honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“But here we are.”
“Here we are.”
Eve is equal parts fascinated and horrified by what appears to be her father flirting. She hands Rory a check. While they confirm their next session, I question Brady on whether he knows enough about Rory given Eve’s clear attachment. Keep her close, I coach, working my agenda. It isn’t difficult to coerce him.
“Listen, I’m heading out for a run,” he says, “but I’d love if you’d join us for dinner next Wednesday.”
Rory steps back, put out by the idea that she’s being asked on a date in front of Eve, but relaxes when I convey Brady’s intent. He’s a single parent. His daughter went to a random funeral for the mother of a woman he’s never met, then got a tattoo based on her words of wisdom. It’s not a date. It’s an interview. Rory accepts the invitation.
Hopefully Brady takes this interview a little less formally than ones at the office. I’d like Rory to have a fighting chance and Brady to not come across as a complete ass, if that’s at all possible. Rory seems to have a knack for bringing out his lighthearted side, a gift I never had.
Eve
My relationship with John is the equivalent of a brother and sister stuck on family vacation. Dad has more of a bond with my math tutor than I have with my boyfriend.
I made the mistake of telling John I sometimes sense my mother watching me. I meant it generally, but he thinks of it every time our clothes are off. Nothing like doing it with a guy who’s totally wigged out. I tried to point out she wouldn’t care anyway, but he stopped me mid-sentence, which was probably for the best.
I think John thought if we tortured each other a little longer we’d eventually end up back to normal. Or maybe he assumed he could bring me back to life, even though I wasn’t interested in being revived. Either way, he was wrong and he knows it. If his father hadn’t forbidden him to date me, he would’ve ended it already. Are there any parents out there who learned anything from Romeo and Juliet? Hello? Pay attention. Shakespeare knew his shit.
Every night starts the same freaking way. John says, “Do you want to go to the party at so-and-so’s?” Tonight everyone is at Doug’s.
I say, “No, but you can. We can get together tomorrow or whatever.”
He turns on a pathetic voice. “I’m not going without you.”
It’s like dating a rash. “So I guess you’re not gonna go, but I really don’t mind if you do.”
Eventually I pick him up at whatever friend’s house is his cover story. My long wait in the driveway makes it obvious the short stint before I arrive is the highlight of his night. When he finally shows, I endure a full gossip rundown, as if I care. Tonight Jake dumping Kara is the headline.
“She’s been showing up already wasted and ends every night bawling or puking. It’s nasty.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t blame Jake for being over her, but he was a dick about it. He’s telling everyone if he wanted to date a lightweight he’d find a freshman.”
“Oh.”
“Kara’s been a shit show, but she’s obviously going through something.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
There’s nothing Kara could possibly be going through that trumps what I’m going through. John is silenced by my indifference. I can’t tell if he gets it or thinks I’ve turned into a raging bitch, but I know he’s miserable, and I don’t have space in my head or heart to care.
I wait until the movie ends and the TV is off to say, “I guess we should stop pretending this is working.”
“Yeah.” For the amount of emotion in the room I might as well have said, “Pass the Doritos.”
“I know things changed when your mom died, but it doesn’t have to stay different forever,” he says after a minute.
I bite my lip. “I don’t miss it the way you think I do. I’m not, like, sinking into depression. I just have different priorities.”
“I wish I was one of them.”
“Me too.”
In some ways I mean it. There are times when I would return to my old self-absorbed existence if I could. It was easier being clueless. But I don’t think a person can go back like that. Now that I see a bigger picture, how can I possibly hang out and stare at the little one?
John stands to leave and I remember I’m his ride. I’ve always sucked at timing. We drive with the radio loud to cover up the fact that there’s nothing left to say. After getting out of the car, John hangs over the open door. “You know she loved you, right?” It takes me a second to process the pronoun—she not I. I can’t speak without crying so I just sit there, looking straight ahead. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says before shutting the door.
I hold my breath until he turns toward his house, then I bawl. I might not be the reason she jumped, but I wasn’t enough to keep her here. I was an afterthought to her, when she was my everything.
*
The bell dings for the third time of the day, marking the end of the last camp session.
It’s weird to put words to, but I’m grateful the accident happened because it brought me to this place, where five hours a day I focused on other people’s problems instead of my own. I’m probably the first person on the planet who’ll miss mandatory community service.
Robin calls everyone to the parking lot to share a camp highlight. I make my way to Kathleen so we can walk together. “I smell you coming, Eve,” she says.
“If anyone else said that, I’d take it as an insult.” She laughs.