wrap my arms around him and hold him tightly.
“I’m so sorry that you went through all of that,” I say. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”
“You are already doing it,” Tyler says, pulling away from me. There’s a small tear forming in the corner of his eye, but he wipes it off before it has a chance to roll down his cheek.
14
Isabelle
When I have a meeting...
The following day, we stop driving at noon and pull over to a diner to get some food and some gas. It’s a little out-of-the-way place and it’s in a dusty little town. I’m nervous about having the guys eat there, but Mac keeps insisting.
“It’s going to be fine,” he says. “You’ll see.”
“Why even take the chance?” I ask as Tyler cuts the engine. “We have enough food here. We can stop at a rest stop and have a sandwich. We can even get some drive-thru. I just don’t see the point of going inside an establishment.”
I glance over at Tyler and wait for him to agree with me. Much to my surprise he doesn’t.
“It’s going to be fine, Isabelle,” he says, optimistically.
After Mac gets out of the car, I reach over and take Tyler by the arm.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask in a low quiet voice. “Why take an unnecessary risk? What if someone recognizes you?”
“They won’t,” he insists.
“You have no idea what’s going to happen.”
I don’t know if I’m overreacting, I really hope that I am, but I just don’t see the point. It’s like wearing a seat belt.
You don’t know if you’re going to get in a car accident and you probably won’t, but why not take the extra precaution, which might save your life?
Tyler, however, refuses to listen to me.
“Are you coming?” he asks, walking to the front door.
I shake my head.
“Are you kidding?”
I shake my head and say, “I have an appointment anyway but even if I didn’t, I still think this is a terrible idea.”
“Oh, is that today? With your therapist?”
I nod.
“Can you get out of it?”
“Yes, of course, but it’s something that I typically do every week and my life has already been quite predictable . I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself than necessary.”
“Of course. Well, just come on in when you’re done or let me know what you want me to order for you.”
Angry and pissed off, I shake my head and say, “I don’t want you to order anything for me.”
I turn on the heel of my shoe and walk away from him with a huff.
India Brownstein is a beautiful woman in her 50s. She has smooth skin, deep black eyes, and dark hair that’s illuminated by strands of silver.
She’s located in Nantucket and we have never met in person. I contacted her after I realized that I needed someone to talk to after my last breakup and didn’t want to go into an office every week. I feel more comfortable talking online and she has been more than accommodating.
As it turns out, India has clients all over the United States and Canada as well as Dubai, Singapore, and the United Kingdom. She rarely talks about herself, but when I looked her up online, I saw articles about her practice in Nantucket Magazine, LA Magazine, and the New York Times.
I have no idea what prompted her to take me on as a client, but a part of me suspects that she just felt sorry for me. I pay way more than I can really afford and that’s about half her usual rate. Over this last year, she has become something of a mother figure to me. My own mother is drastically different and she’s completely impossible to speak with.
India is not like that.
She listens.
She understands.
Occasionally, she gives advice, but mainly she asks questions.
Her goal is to help me figure out the right thing to do by not telling me what should or shouldn’t be done.
I have opened up to her more than I have opened up to anyone else.
She knows practically everything, all the good and the bad.
Somehow, that’s okay.
My phone connects with her computer and I see her face on the screen. There’s a quiet and calmness to her that immediately puts me at ease.
She sits close enough to the screen that I can actually see her face, every reaction. I’ve noticed how important that is when talking to people through teleconference. If people are too far away it feels like you’re giving a speech