“Because I...” She comes strong out of the gate, then fumbles, her words trailing away into nothing. She backs away from the desk, drops her backpack onto the floor and sits, her back ramrod straight, on the corner chair. Outside my office door, the hallway is quiet, the rest of the kids in class. “I wanted to know how you were doing. I was worried.”
It’s not just her words that suck the steam from my anger but also her tone, hesitant and unsure. I should apologize. I should open my mouth and tell her I’m sorry for using her as an emotional punching bag, but I can’t seem to make myself. I’m too uncomfortable with where this conversation is headed, so instead I flip it back onto her.
“I appreciate your concern. Thank you. So how are things going with Charlotte Wilbanks? Any new arguments I should know about?”
Ava’s pretty blue eyes bug, the facial equivalent of are you kidding me? She doesn’t speak for a good ten seconds. “Fighting with Charlotte is just so pointless.”
“Good for you. That’s a very mature stance to take. What about you and Adam Nightingale? Are you two still an item?”
“Charlotte can have him. All Adam wants to do is play the guitar or have sex, and honestly?” She makes a face. “He’s not very good at either.” She leans back in her chair, studying me over my desk with a tenderness I didn’t know she was capable of. “My mom left.”
At first I think I didn’t hear her right. “What do you mean she left? Left where?”
“Our house. My dad. She went to live in Sandy Springs with some mechanic named Bruce.” She says it like she’d report the weather, flat and matter-of-fact. “Apparently, they’re in love or something.”
I lean back in my chair, blowing out a breath. “Okay. Wow. That’s... That must be a huge adjustment for you.”
“I’ll say. You should see my room at Bruce’s house. It’s tiny.” She gives me a half grin to let me know she’s not entirely serious.
“I meant your parents splitting up.”
Ava pulls a hunk of hair over her shoulder and winds the ends around a finger. “I don’t know. It’s not like my dad was the greatest husband or anything. He’s hardly ever at home, and when he is, he’s always on the phone or behind his computer. I’m not entirely positive he’s noticed she’s gone. And Mom does seem a lot happier now. She smiles literally all the time.”
“Divorce is tough on everyone involved, but you know this is something between your parents, right? It has nothing to do with you.”
She nods like she doesn’t quite believe me. “You want to know the craziest thing? Mom didn’t take anything but the clothes on her back. Not her jewelry, not her car, not even her Birkin bag. Last Christmas she couldn’t live without a pink diamond Rolex and now the only thing she wants is fifty-fifty custody.”
“It sounds like she’s found something much more valuable.” I think about Will, about how empty my life is without him in it, about how he’s back and blowing up my phone with text messages I don’t dare to read, and a pang hits me in the center of the chest.
Ava lifts a bony shoulder. “I guess Bruce is okay.”
“I meant you. She might be leaving your father, but it sounds like she’s still very much committed to you.”
For once, Ava doesn’t try to bite down on her smile. She just looks at me and lets it rip, and her happiness lights up her face. She really is a beautiful girl, and I’m about to tell her she should smile more often when the bigger picture occurs to me.
“You seem surprisingly okay with all of this. How come?”
She unwinds her finger, pushes the hair back over her shoulder and straightens her Lake Forrest sweater. “Honestly? Because of you. Because of what happened to your husband. Things like that make you realize what’s really important, and it’s not another diamond Rolex, you know? Like, life is too short to be focused on all the wrong things.”
And just like that, I’m crying. For me, for Will, for Ava and her mother. This is the moment every counselor works for, that aha moment of breakthrough when their student sheds some of the baggage weighing them down, but because of my own baggage, I’m too emotional to say a word.
“Anyway—” she swipes her backpack from the floor and pushes to a stand “—I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just wanted you to know that if you need me, I’ll be in a tiny bedroom up in Sandy Springs, and I have you to thank for it.” Her cheeky grin fades into something more solemn, and her voice goes rough around the edges. “Seriously, Mrs. Griffith. Thank you, and I’m really, really sorry about your husband.”
*
As soon as she’s gone, I wipe my tears with my sleeve and call Evan on my desk phone. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Finally. I must have left you a dozen voice mails. Did you leave your cell at home or something?”
I feel around for my bag on the floor, push it with my foot to the very back corner of my desk, where it tangles with the computer wires. “The battery’s dead.”
“Well, plug it in, will you? I talked to the waitress.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing, that’s the problem. I’m hoping she’ll be more forthcoming in person, which is why I’d like to fly down there later this week, you and me both. My size tends to scare people off, and I’m thinking it might help if I show up with another female who also happens to be a psychologist.”
“You’re probably right. I’m happy to help any way I can.”
“Great. My assistant is moving some things around on my schedule. She’ll let you know the day once she clears one up.”
“Sounds good.”
“I also talked to an old buddy of mine whose firm specializes in corporate accounting fraud, and apparently, it’s a well-known secret around town that AppSec’s plans to go public keep getting postponed because they can’t get their shit together. The VCs have all backed out. They want nothing to do with them.”
“What’s a VC?”
“Venture capital fund. They invest money in companies like AppSec in exchange for equity. Companies typically use them for an influx of cash as a lead-up to the IPO. In AppSec’s case, there were a few enthusiastic investors as recently as three years ago, but only one this past year and that was 100 percent stock, so not exactly liquid.”
“I’m a school psychologist, Evan. I have no idea what any of that means.”
“It means that Will’s boss has lost his marbles if he thinks AppSec will be going public anytime soon. That company is in deep financial distress, and their books are a mess. It’s no wonder four and a half million were missing before anyone had any idea it was gone.”
The bell rings, and the classrooms spill clumps of rowdy teenagers into the hall. I pull the phone cord long, step around my desk and reach for my office door. It’s something I’ve never done—ever, in the six-plus years I’ve worked here—and the students notice. They look over with brows light with surprise, right before I shut the door in their faces.