through the next hour and go home to…
I can go home.
Derrick followed me in and kicked things off. The usual story topping started from the get-go with the occasional legit issue in between.
I preferred to remain silent, but my paranoia demanded I talk to keep people off my case. The best defense was a good offense, right? Or was it the other way around?
Either way, I waited for a lull halfway through before asking, “Does anyone have a favorite store for home items? I want to make my apartment my own, but I’m not finding things I like.”
Mostly because I haven’t looked.
A couple people offered the typical suggestions of thrift stores and Target. Since I was one of the few who didn’t live at home or with a roommate, some asked how it was living on my own.
“I love it. It’s nice to have my own space,” I said, which wasn’t a lie.
For once.
“Do you have pictures?” Derrick asked.
“Oh, good idea.” Jenna held out her hand. “I can give you better suggestions if I can see.”
The idea of letting them into my space, even via picture, made me so uncomfortable, I thought I might be sick. I never had guests—not even my own sister.
If you won’t share pictures, they’ll ask why. And they’ll dig and dig until they find out everything.
Including the little secret skeletons in your closet.
My hands shook as I pulled my cell from my purse and unlocked it to bring up the pictures I’d sent Aria. Thankfully, they were taken before I’d moved my few pieces of furniture in, so it wasn’t as invasive as it could’ve been. I turned it so everyone could see.
“What a cute place,” Jenna said, grabbing the phone from my hand and pinching the screen to zoom in and out. “I love the kitchen island. You could put so many different things there to spruce it up. Like, holiday decorations or a pretty fruit bowl.”
“Or flowers,” Derrick said, remembering what I’d shared the week before.
Since those dead flowers were still on my floor—along with the shards of glass I couldn’t find the energy or desire to clean up—that ruled them out. The lobby ones had been cleared away by maintenance or someone who was sick of looking at them, so they were out, too.
Maybe I’ll stop and get my own flowers. Purposeful ones, not accidental reminders that I’m alone.
Or I can get a succulent. Those are hard to kill, I think.
I showed them the few other pictures, though there wasn’t much to see.
“Pictures in that hallway will make it look bigger,” Jared surprisingly tossed in.
Meghan nodded. “Same with the dining room area.”
“I love your windows. So much natural light,” Jenna said before inevitably—and thankfully—turning the discussion to her. To be fair, she’d lasted two minutes. It was a new record for her. “I really wish I had my own apartment to design the way I wanted.”
“Why don’t you?” I asked, coming across like a caring therapy buddy and not someone desperate to steer the attention away from themselves.
She sighed dramatically, ensuring she had everyone’s attention before launching in. “I keep telling Dr. Davis I’m ready, but he doesn’t agree.”
“Why do you think that is?” Derrick prompted, trying to lead the conversation into something deeper. If he got her to admit her faults—that her narcissism led to destructive, attention seeking behavior when left unchecked—he’d probably float out of the room on cloud nine with the validation he wasn’t wasting his life.
If that’s what he was hoping for, he wasn’t going to get it. According to Jenna, it was everyone else’s fault. Her loving family. Her friends. Her boss, coworkers, and Dr. Davis himself. If she could find the seven degrees of separation, I was sure she’d blame Kevin Bacon, too.
Derrick hid his dejection when every attempt he made at nudging her toward accountability was swatted away with practiced ease.
The rest of the session continued along the same lines until it was finally time to get out of there. I was up and out of my seat, not bothering with my usual inconspicuousness as I hauled ass to the stairwell. Like a monster was on my tail, I jogged down the steps and out into the lobby before slowing down.
“Hey.” I looked to the side and saw the bodyguard lounging behind the receptionist’s long desk. Slouching, his long legs were spread as he swiveled the chair back and forth. “Where’s the fire?”
Under my skin.
Keeping that thought to myself, I blurted the next thing that