All of Me Page 8

  “I didn’t realize you were working out with Maren,” she says with all the acidity that I expect.

  “It’s nothing. I ran into her.”

  “Yet, you didn’t tell me.”

  “You were busy. What’s the big deal?”

  We stop at my car, parked at a meter that has expired. “Don’t try to explain. I know you’re committed to me.” She places her hand on my chest and looks at me with her sultry, expressive eyes. “There’s a lot going on with that one. I feel sorry for her. Do you think she has a crush on you?”

  “No,” I say definitively.

  “It’s not like you’re into her either. What’s with her anyway? The girl just says whatever’s on her mind and did you see the way she ignored me when I said we couldn’t stay?”

  “Libby said she’s on the Autism Spectrum.”

  “Oh please, that’s a fancy way of saying socially awkward. ADHD, impulse disorders, my younger sister is studying psych at NYU. Maren’s nothing more than a woman hiding behind a label and Libby’s making excuses.”

  “Maybe your sister should find a new major?”

  Sara rolls her eyes. “I’m not a mean person. You know me. I was having a good time with you tonight. I didn’t like hearing you’ve been hanging out. I thought you were coming out of that store with jewelry for me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  A look of genuine hurt crosses her face. “Why would you do that? Because I keep thinking you’ll want to take the next step. I saw the way you freaked out about my leaving a toothbrush.”

  “We agreed to keep this casual.”

  “So? Maybe I changed my mind.” She shakes her head. “I’ve been wrong about you and about us. I’ve been so stupid.”

  “You applied for a position out of state without telling me. What does that say about your level of commitment?”

  “That’s different.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  A cell phone rings. Sara jumps. “That’s me.” She shoves the phone against her ear. “Mom. Slow down. What? Hang on.” She runs a hand over her hair and looks at me with wide eyes. “No, don’t worry—I’m on my way.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My grandma’s been in a car accident. Nothing life-threatening. She’s getting stitches in her arm.”

  “You should go.” I don’t offer to go to the hospital because I’m not in the mood for doing anything more with Sara other than what involves the bedroom. “We’ll talk later.”

  “You can come with me if you want.”

  No. I don’t want. “Sounds like a family thing. You need to be with them.” Without me.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m headed home.”

  She grabs my face for a kiss.

  I’ve never been into public make-out sessions and I pull away. I let her down gently. “Later, okay?”

  “If it’s not too late tonight, I’ll come by your place.”

  “Another time. Focus on your family.”

  “Thanks for understanding. I’ll see you soon.”

  I stand on the sidewalk and watch her head off to her car. I could go back to the music and drinking and Maren. I remind myself that I am Caleb Matthew Allan. Junior lawyer at a respected law firm. I am capable of walking away from anything and anyone in this life. Do I want Maren? No. Am I attracted to her? For a minute, maybe. A critical error on my part. I continue to my car. Going back would be a mistake. And I never make those.

  Chapter 7

  Maren

  Wednesday afternoons I leave work one hour early. I take Wilson Avenue and bypass Whitlow’s pub to the office of Doctor Riya Kavya. A behavioral specialist is her official title, but to me, she’s Doctor K.

  I check in at the reception area. The woman behind the desk is Trudy. She greets me with a smile. “Good afternoon, Ms. Cole. How are you today?”

  “I broke 300,000 on Countess Coins,” I reply, hoping the excitement will catch on.

  “How do you get such high scores? I can’t get past 2,000.”

  “It’s all in the treasure chest. You need to get the multipliers.”

  “I haven’t got that kind of time. Doctor K keeps me working around the clock these days.”

  I lean over the desk and lower my voice, “She likes to talk a lot.”

  Trudy chuckles. “You’re right about that. I’ll need your co-pay and then you can go back.”

  We take care of business first and handle the money and signing a receipt. The way back to Doctor K’s office has couches, tables, and a food station. Trudy stocks the shelves with fruit, crackers, and during holidays, she puts out a bowl with chocolates. The smell of caffeine lingers like a candle that’s been burning too long.

  Doctor K’s door is at the end of the hallway. The space is warm with the blinds on the windows always open. She has a voice-activated feature playing relaxation music. I pick the comfy white chair with bright blue pillows and put my purse by my feet and wait.

  “Hi Maren,” Doctor K says, appearing in the doorway. She finishes reading the paper in her hand and shuffles them on her desk with an oomph. “How are you today?”

  “The door is open.”

  “Thank you. Let me take care of that.” She walks over and closes it.

  “Eight weeks to go.” I’m referring to the baby she’s going to have. Her belly has gotten bigger since I saw her last. She’s almost to nine months at which the baby will know when to be born. How does a baby know though? Why nine months? Why not ten? What happens if I ever have a child? Will I ever be a mother?

  “Maren? I asked you a question.” She takes a seat across from me in her red chair.

  I meet her tired gaze. “Is labor painful?”

  “There are parts that aren’t pleasant. The pain is short and forgotten soon after. I would say labor is a good pain.”

  I don’t see how that’s possible. Pain hurts. Who would want that? I want to talk about pregnancy and when I need to prepare for having children. Oh no. This means I need to meet a man. I need to meet a man and have actual sex. It’s been so long I might as well be a virgin. “Are we talking about family today?”

  “Do you want to talk about family?”

  “What if I want to be a mother?”

  “Then you can be one, when you’re ready. Do you think you are?”

  “Not yet.” I twist my hands in my lap.

  “Does that upset you?” Doctor K slides her hand up her jaw and rests it at her ear.

  “I just…I know to be a mother certain things must happen, and those things never seem to happen to me. Like men. Like dating.” Like Caleb, his name sneaks in my mind like a sweet surprise. “With Libby moving to New York soon, it feels like so much is ending, maybe even some connections I had to meet men through her.”

  “Just take a moment to pause.” She smooths over her stark black hair. “The move is a big deal. Let’s start with that.”

  “She’s going to mess up my life,” I blurt out like a bomb I can’t contain. “I want her to be happy, but she’s okay here. We’re good. We have our routines and our lives. She’s my best friend and if she goes I won’t have her around. I don’t see why she has to do this.” Tears tickle the my eyes. They are warm and ready, like an unstoppable army marching over new territory. One goes, then another. Using my sleeve, I wipe my cheeks.

  She points to the box of tissues. I take one, balling up and rubbing the tissue awkwardly over my face.

  “Change can be difficult. The sadness you feel is normal. Your tears—your reaction, is healthy, Maren. So is Libby’s decision to go. She needs to take care of herself. Do you see that?”

  “Yes, I do. I know that, but as it gets closer…I don’t know.”

  “Sometimes people need to do something for themselves. We all have goals and dreams. You do, Libby does. You are an important piece in her life, but you can’t be her whole life.”

  “What about Caleb Allan? I care for him and he doesn’t make me cry.”

>   She cocks her head. “Who’s Caleb?”

  “A man. A friend.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “He’s tall.”

  “Do you hang out?”

  “We jog, and he struggles to keep pace.”

  “You said he’s a friend.” Doctor K nods and jots a note on her pad of paper. “How do you show him you’re his friend?”

  “Huh? Why would I do that? I let him run with me.”

  “Do you let anyone else run with you?”

  “No.”

  “Why do you let him?”

  “He doesn’t try to organize me and he’s on my side about this moving stuff. He thinks if I want to stay, I should.”

  “Is this more than friendship? Romantic?”

  “He’s got a girlfriend.”

  Her angular eyebrow shoots up. “Does this bother you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s always getting him to go away from me. They hang out together all the time and the way they look at each other is the way no one’s ever looked at me.”

  “The way a man has never looked at you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you respect their relationship?”

  “I will. I do. I just…I don’t have many friends, and when Libby goes, I’ll be down to Charlotte. She’s fine and all, when she’s not taking food from my snack drawer at work.”

  “Why can’t you and Caleb be friends after Libby moves?”

  I shrug. “Because she won’t be here.”

  “Why can’t you and Caleb form your own friendship without her?”

  “I never thought of it that way. What are the rules for this friendship though?”

  Doctor K leans forward slightly, and she smiles. “Do you ever think you would like to live without so many rules?”

  “Oh my gosh, yes.”

  “Maybe jogging is a thing you enjoy together, and you don’t have to push for more. If he’s got a girlfriend, then there are boundaries.”

  I understand. Limits. Rules. The freakin’ launch pad of my universe. I tuck the tissue in my pocket and see by her gaze, she’s waiting for me to say more. “What if we have nothing else in common except for running?” A knot forms in my stomach. “What if that ends?”

  “Things end, Maren. Friendships, marriages, relationships. You can’t control if Caleb decides he doesn’t want run. Or if the two of you run well together and then sit in silence afterwards. He doesn’t have to like everything you like. Take Libby and Charlotte, and your parents—they have activities they enjoy that you don’t. You still get along. You still talk about all sorts of topics. Differences can make relationships interesting and stronger. Don’t focus on what comes next, focus on the now. This relates to our discussion from last week. How to show interest in people. Have you done this?”

  I think only of Caleb. “Yes.”

  “What does he like to do?”

  “He’s an expert in picking out ladies’ jewelry. And we both have sisters.”

  “What else?”

  “He’s a lawyer.”

  “Hmm…You have to go deeper. Ask him questions about himself.”

  “Wouldn’t he just tell me?”

  “No. People need to be asked.” She scribbles another note and tears this one off the pad. “This is your homework for the week.”

  I take the paper and read aloud, “Ask Caleb three personal questions next time we hang out.” A groan escapes my mouth.

  “We only have a few minutes left, so let’s check in about anything that upset you this week.”

  I tell her about the fights with Libby. I don’t like to retell the bad stuff. I like to forget about my mistakes, but Doctor K makes me talk about everything. A majority of the session we discuss the upcoming move. She wants to know what my plan is once Libby leaves.

  “My Plan? I don’t have one. I want her to change her mind about moving.”

  “She’s not going to do that. She’s got to live her own life.”

  “Why does she have to do it away from me?”

  “She has to take the opportunities that are best for her. This is a chance for you, too. You will have time to figure out your world on your own terms. Shift your focus to the daily tasks you need to do. Without Libby around, you’ll become more confident in your choices.”

  “I’ll have more time for Countess Coins.”

  “Technology isn’t a substitute for real connections. You’ll need to work on making your own circle of friends.”

  I disagree. I feel my online competitors on Countess Coins are very supportive, but I see her point. “Maybe Charlotte has friends I can get to know.”

  “That’s the right sort of thinking.” She leans forward. Her gaze holds mine. “Think about this more. Come up with a plan to get you ready for this change. There’s also the men and women in the Tuesday support group you attend. There’s less pressure to get it right, socially. You’re doing great, Maren. The desire to be independent is good.” She glances at the clock on the wall. “You have a lot to think about and do before next week.”

  I grab my bag and stand. “I’ll see you next week.”

  I return to the office to finish up a report. Charlotte’s talking on her phone. She gives me a sideways glance and continues her conversation. I sit down at my chair and turn on my computer. I think about Doctor K’s orders. Living on my own feels overwhelming. My thoughts are like a hundred arrows each pointing in a different direction. What do I know about this decision? What if I need Libby? What if I forget to buy groceries and I have no food? What if I run out of toilet paper? What if there’s no one in my apartment except for me and my alarm clock doesn’t work, and I don’t get to work on time? And what do I want to know about Caleb Allan? Does he have these same fears? The squeeze ball on my desk is there from earlier and I grab it.

  “You missed one hell-of-a-meeting,” Charlotte says, putting her phone on her desk. “Mr. Spencer got in a fight with Chase Higgins. They were yelling at each other and we all sat there and watched.”

  “How unprofessional.”

  She giggles and throws her arm up in the air like a punch. “That’s an understatement. You should have been there.”

  “I couldn’t be. I was at Doctor K’s.”

  “That reminds me. I need to change my therapy appointment.”

  Charlotte talks to a doctor once a week. Her therapist is different than Doctor K. She has Charlotte talk about her past. My officemate rolls her chair over to my desk with an exaggerated sigh.

  “You’re in my space.”

  She doesn’t move. “What did you and Doctor K discuss?”

  “Caleb Allan. Libby moving.”

  Charlotte beams with a smile wide as her face. “Caleb? Really?”

  I point to her mouth. “You’ve got something on your teeth.”

  She picks out the blob of green. “Gone?”

  “Yes, thank God. I can’t talk with the distraction.”

  “Caleb is the guy from Friday night, right?”

  I nod. “Why are you so excited?”

  “You should be more excited. He’s hot in that angsty sort of way. That man is hiding a thousand secrets and he’s just waiting for someone to tap into all that attitude.” She looks at me expectantly.

  “Err…A thousand secrets seems a bit excessive. But I do love his face.” My stomach flips again. That was nice and…no, it’s awesome.

  “What woman doesn’t love his face? I think he wanted to stay with us—with you. Who was the pouty-faced girl with him?”

  “Her name is Sara. They’re dating.”

  “Hmm…didn’t look like he was in to her. I mean, she is a pretty face, but I swear, he looked more interested in hanging with us.”

  “Doctor K wants me to ask him questions when we talk. I should find out about him.”

  She gives a fluttery sigh. “I’ve never been jealous of you until now.”

  “I doubt anyone has ever been jealous of me. What I wouldn
’t give to trade brains with you.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You don’t give yourself enough credit. Next time you see him, you just need to be better prepared. Think about what you want to know about Caleb. What will you ask him?”

  “In college, I used to talk to the guys in my study group about the four branches of mathematics.”

  “That’s a start, but from what you’ve said, Caleb isn’t a numbers guy.”

  “You’re right. He’s not. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “I thought you would never ask. Listen up.” She leans in close with a suspenseful gaze, like she’s been harboring prized intel for years and has chosen this pivotal moment to bring me in to her knowledge. “Guys are easy,” she comments, sweeping her gaze to the door in case a coworker is walking past. “Men would rather die than ask you to flatter them, but they like to be praised. You need to ask Caleb questions about his achievements.”

  Achievements. Check. “I can do that.”

  Her smile deepens. “What do you think about his looks?”

  “He’s got a nice face. The symmetry is even, and his eyes are hard. Sometimes I think there is a shadow in them, but that’s crazy, right? Shadows are created by the position of the sun.”

  “Don’t say that. You’re clearly attracted to his face.”

  “Fine. He’s good looking.” I swallow back nervous energy. It feels strange to say this stuff out loud. “How would I know?”

  “Do you get butterflies in your stomach?”

  “That’s impossible. Butterflies can’t live inside you.”

  Charlotte’s friendly expression vanishes. “Maren, how have you never heard of that expression?”

  “I’ve heard it, I just think the statement is stupid.”

  “I disagree. Metaphors can be quite beautiful. Butterflies, when their wings flap, set off a warm, wistful feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like tiny, fluttery nerves. You’re scared, but in a good way. You think about the person when they’re not around and when you’re standing next to him, you feel unspoken energy. You want to go straight to the bedroom.”

  My stomach twists and turns and everything inside me lights up. “I want to have sex with Caleb Allan.”

  “Woo-hoo!” She claps my shoulder. “Good for you.”