Dr. Hillside is the therapist I’ve been seeing on and off since college. “I haven’t seen her for a couple of months.”
Steve looks surprised. Slightly indignant. “Why the hell not?”
“I’ve been busy. And I haven’t had the energy to deal with sessions. It’s been hard enough dealing with this whole thing with my mom. I’ll make an appointment soon. I don’t need to be nagged about it.”
“Someone needs to nag you. Remember what happened last year?”
I had a bad few months last year, right before we went through with the sale of our company. I knew in my mind it was the right decision, but it was so hard to let go of control. I ended up having a panic attack one evening with Steve. It took a lot of intensive sessions with Dr. Hillside to get me back in a good mental place.
“I remember last year. This isn’t like that. I promise.”
“Okay. So do you really know what you’re doing, Mel?”
“Yes. I know what I’m doing.”
I’m telling the truth. I basically feel in control of this. Maybe part of me is nervous and fluttery at the thought of being so close to Damian for the next six months, but that part of me is small and insignificant.
The rest of me has always been able to make things happen using my brain and my will and my resources. I need this particular thing to happen, and there’s no reason to assume it won’t work out the way I planned.
A FEW DAYS LATER I’M coming back from a walk around dinnertime when I run into someone I know from college.
Last year I bought this condo in a new, upscale high-rise. It’s one of the few splurges I’ve made with my share of the money from the sale of our company. It’s a quiet, well-maintained building, and I use a door that leads into the parking deck when I leave to take long walks—which I do nearly every day for exercise and fresh air.
I’m walking in when I see her. Lori Harris. My least favorite girl in my hall of the dorm in college.
I was excited when I graduated high school and started college, thinking I’d finally be free of the mean girls and constant teasing. In some ways I was right. I found a lot more people in college like me. I found a place where it felt like I fit in. But mean girls go to college too, and Lori was one of them. She was clearly trying to hold on to her place in the social hierarchy from high school. While she never overtly mocked me, the attitude was clear in every word she said to me and every look she gave me.
It’s ten years later now. I’ve made a success of my career by every worldly standard. But my stomach still drops like a rock when I see her standing near a car in one of the visitor spots.
Hoping to walk by unnoticed, I duck my head and pick up my pace.
“Mel? Mel, is that you?”
Damn it. It’s the same fake-nice tone I remember. I paste on a smile as I pause and turn back. “What? Oh hi, Lori. What on earth are you doing here?”
We went to college in Atlanta, and there’s no reason to assume she wouldn’t stay in the city like I did. But it is a coincidence that she’s shown up in the garage of my building. So my question is a perfectly natural one.
“I’m visiting,” she says with a smile that barely contains her inner gloating. “The guy I’m seeing lives here. He’s on the twentieth floor.”
I’m on the twenty-fourth floor, but I’m absolutely not going to play that game. It doesn’t matter if she thinks she’s better than me for purely superficial reasons. “Oh, okay. Nice to see you.”
My attempt to part ways is a flop.
She asks, “What about you?”
“Oh. I live here.”
“You do? Oh, how nice. You were always so brainy. I’m sure you’ve done well for yourself.”
See, if someone else had said that, it might have been okay. But from her, it feels like a slap in the face. A reminder that a computer nerd is all I’ll ever be. My throat tightens, and my stomach twists as I feel emotions rise.
I’m grown up now. I’ve accepted who I am. I even like myself most of the time. But I guess there will always be a lonely, insecure little girl inside who just wants people to like her.