Across from Em at the tiny kitchen table in her apartment, Harriet was sporting her best deer-in-the-headlights imitation — but maybe that was for Colin's presence. Had he traumatized her in his therapy session?
"Um, I just don't know, see?" Harriet's voice trembled. "I mean, I can't imagine how I would ask a guy something like that."
"You don't have to imagine it," said Em. "You're just going to say the words. Ask the question, then respect the answer. I know it's hard, but it's the beginning, Harriet."
Harriet was shrinking further into her chair. Colin cleared his throat. "Let's talk about whom you're going to ask," he said, flipping open the photo folder Harriet had given them two weeks before. "Tell us about the men in your life."
Em's face screwed its features up with distaste for this phrase, but he couldn't have found a better one, she supposed. Slowly, Harriet drew the portfolio forwards.
"How about the gentleman in the middle?" asked Colin.
"Rick? He's ... he's nice," admitted Harriet, reluctantly. "But he's sort of got a girlfriend already. Tawny. She works in the copier services department."
"Mmhmm." Colin slipped another photo from the pile. Em pointed to the person standing a little outside Harriet's group — a fellow fringer, she thought, hopefully.
"Who's this?"
"That's Mickey."
"What's he like?" persisted Em. "Are you good friends with him?"
"Oh, um, Mickey and I aren't exactly ... I mean, he's sort of ... I don't know. He kind of teases me sometimes. He doesn't mean to hurt me or anything, I guess..."
The group jester, possibly. The one with the smart mouth and the clever insults for the supervisors — and probably everybody else, after he had a few too many drinks. Colin was giving Em a little frown and shake of his head throughout this dialogue exchange. For some reason, he had written Mickey off already, it seems. What deductive powers his gentleman psychologist skills had made for this judgment, she couldn't fathom.
"How about him?" Em pulled the bottom photo from the stack, one of a man with his arm around Harriet's shoulders. The girl blushed momentarily.
"Elton? He's really nice. Really sweet and understanding. I talk to him all the time at work. I mean, it's just the two of us by the water cooler, or alone in the office, sometimes. Or we get assigned to go over inventory. He's really funny." She blushed again.
"What about Steve?" Colin unearthed that name from his memory, it would seem, since he wasn't glancing at the brief profiles of Harriet's friends.
"Steve? Um, well...I suppose. I mean, we don't talk very much. But we do stuff together. With the group."
"What about Elton?" Em asked again. "Would you be willing to ask him to have lunch with you? Just a single lunch someplace casual. Not anything romantic."
Harriet's face was scarlet. "I think I could," she said. "I mean, I'd like to. If I have to try."
Em glanced at Colin. "I think we have a candidate."
Her partner in therapy said nothing; his smile of response, however, looked fake. As for Harriet, hers was very similar to the dreamy, secret smile that accompanied conversations about kissing in Paris. A little too much like it, in fact.
"You know this is probably a poor decision." Colin confided this to Em later. They were splitting a cab after leaving Harriet's place, one destined to drop Colin off at the university — something about collecting some of his things from his office. He was still a professor there, Em realized. Or researcher, or whatever post he served in the psychology department before his book rocketed up the charts.
"I know it's too soon," Em admitted. "But we have to take it one step at a time. And she has improved. I see a tiny window of progress. She doesn't shrink every time you speak to her, for instance."
Colin looked gloomy. "I hardly think Miss Smith — Harriet's — lessening fear of me is a sign she's ready to ask a coworker out, even if it's just for a quick cup of coffee. This ... Elton ... is the last person I'd pick from her pool of candidates as well."
"Why?" asked Em. "He sounds nice enough, from Harriet's description."
"Look at him." Colin flipped the photo onto her lap. "He's obviously well-groomed. His teeth are whitened, his haircut accentuates his features — this is a man whose appearance is carefully-tailored to impress. His wardrobe — stylish." He flipped several more photos featuring Elton among Harriet's workplace circle. "I hardly think a man who spends that much time and money on his personal appearance would give Harriet a fair chance in a relationship."
"Let's give him a chance, shall we?" answered Em.
"That appears to be her decision," answered Colin. "But if we're to give her any real assistance, then I suggest we try my methods."
"Relationship boot camp? Cold buckets of water poured on her heart-shaped pillows?" Em quipped.
"More like a crash course in the cruel world of male indifference, so she understands the risk and learns to identify the negative," answered Colin. "Let Harriet navigate some of the pitfalls before she exposes her true feelings to this young man."
"That doesn't sound very chivalrous of you, doctor," answered Em.
"Chivalry would be me helping her face the possibility of rejection in private," he responded. "But this is a circus, and since I'm a psychologist on display in its sideshow, I have to help her humiliate herself in public. Or let her face it on her own."
Beneath his flippancy, he sounded slightly miserable about it. For a moment, Em almost believed he cared about Harriet, as more than a mere burden in his public relations circus.
"Maybe Elton is nicer than you give him credit for," said Em. "She described him as warm and sympathetic. Maybe he'll be chivalrous enough to take her out for one evening."
She expected an affirmation of this would-be principle from Colin's book. Instead, he made a slight snorting noise in the back of his throat.
Em ignored this. "So what plans do you have in mind, exactly, for preparing Harriet to ask this simple question?"
"A good one which any relationship coach would approve," he answered. "One which involves tough love and a different sort of microphone than Vic currently favors."
*****
"Keep your chin high and your spine straight, Harriet. Remember, when you're filled with confidence, there's no room for your body to collapse inside itself."
Beside Em, Colin snorted. "Is that advice seriously intended to influence her?"
"Haven't you ever tried subjective therapy?" Em shot back. "Besides, this is your idea, Mr. Eminent-Therapist-With-a-Degree."
She was glad Harriet couldn't hear this exchange. There was a switch to engage the mics and communicate with Harriet's hidden earpiece. Her wireless mic was hidden in a flower on her shoulder bag as she wandered through the mall's Saturday crowd.
This was Colin's bright idea: coaching Harriet through a session of impromptu and semi-natural conversations with male shoppers. It was almost as brutal as sending Harriet into battle armed with a carrot peeler, in Em's opinion. As cruel as leaving a puppy on a freeway's dividing strip.
Right now, Harriet looked like an abandoned puppy. Her uncertain steps wove in the direction of a jewelry store, then veered sharply away at Colin's swift suggestion that the food court was a better place of approach.
He switched off his mic. "I know it seems harsh, but it's the most effective way to give Harriet a crash-course in overcoming shyness and self-inhibitions."
"Or retreat even further."
"She's not alone," he answered. "We'll prompt her if there's a problem, or an exchange takes an unfavorable turn. If you see her in distress, you can advise her how to deal with it. She responds to your coaching quickly."
This was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever given Em. "All right," she admitted, mollified. "But I hope this isn't the biggest mistake we've made yet in this circus."
She could afford to be honest right now, since Vic was loping ahead, keeping his digital camera trained on Harriet's moving figure. Em and Colin were just trying t
o blend in with the moving shoppers, without losing sight of Harriet.
"There she is," said Colin. He switched on his mic. "Harriet, there's a gentleman behind the pretzel counter. He looks friendly, so approach him and place an order for one. Be friendly, take your time, and engage him in conversation."
Over Harriet's mic, they could hear the rustle of fabric and paper. "Welcome to Hot n' Salty, what's your order today?"
"Um, wow. I don't know. They all look so good." Harriet was resting both hands on the counter. Every time her reddish hair slipped over the shoulder of her yellow sundress, it brushed against the mic — Em wondered what terrible quality the video's sound feed would showcase as a result.
"We have a special on the chocolate ones today. We have regular and low-carb, sea salt and light salt ..."
"Um, they all sound good," Harriet repeated.
Until this line, Em had been rather proud of Harriet's bold approach, but now the conversation seemed to be faltering. "Harriet —"
The girl jumped slightly at the sound of Em's voice in her ear.
"Just relax," said Em. "Everything's fine. Ask him what his favorite flavor is."
"So what's yours?" Harriet parroted. "Favorite flavor, that is."
The young man behind the counter had a blank stare and way too much acne. Seventeen? Maybe eighteen? Way too young for Harriet, Em realized, now that she had a clear view from the pizza slice counter across the court.
"Um ... cheese?" he suggested.
"Tell him that sounds great, and order one," said Colin. "Then walk towards the main plaza again."
"I'll take one," said Harriet, brightly.
Outside the food court, Harriet hastily stuffed a few bites in her mouth. "Now what?" she asked.
"Dispose of the pretzel," began Colin.
"But it cost five dollars!"
"Eat it, then. But finish it before you move on to the next site —"
Em covered his mic. "Where are we sending her?"
"Sporting goods," he answered.
Em considered this. "A decent choice," she admitted.
"The sporting goods store on the left," Colin told Harriet.
Games Glory was fairly crowded. The first promising candidates were a cluster of young men — over twenty, Em estimated — considering some snowboarding gear in the winter wonderland section.
"See the group of young men near the snow boots?" said Em. Harriet's yellow-clad figure turned in a slow circle, growing rigid when she spotted them.
"Good," said Em. "Move in their direction. Pretend to be looking at the boots, then ask their advice. Tell them you've wanted to learn how to do this, and you're thinking about taking it up."
"I am?" echoed Harriet.
"For the intent and purpose of this exercise, you are pretending to be interested in the same things they are," Colin intervened. "Please, Harriet, just walk towards them and smile."
Harriet maneuvered between the displays, pausing in front of the boots. Wait for a pause, Em prayed, silently. The young men hadn't noticed her yet as she pretended to study a pair of boots, glancing casually their way.
"Hey," she said. "Do any of you guys know anything about ... snowboarding?"
They exchanged glances. "Um, yeah," said one. The poor mic quality made it hard for Em to tell what tone of voice he used.
"See, I'm thinking about taking it up. For a hobby. I'm going to Colorado next year, and I really want to — to hit the slopes." Harriet's voice was trembling, but it hadn't failed yet. That was a good sign in Em's estimation.
"Have you ever skied or anything?" asked a second one.
"Nope. Not once," said Harriet. "So, what do I need? Shoes, a board? Some kind of poles?"
They laughed. Not entirely good laughter, Em sensed. "Um, a board and boots," answered one.
"And lots of padding," answered the third one. "People tend to fall when they're learning. You'll be pretty black and blue."
"That's okay," said Harriet. "I don't mind. I just think it's a cool way to see the mountains and all. So have you had any interesting experiences snowboarding?"
They were shying away from her now. "You know," said the first one. "Just the usual stuff."
"Go ahead and end this, Harriet," said Colin, over his mic. "Tell them thanks for the advice —"
"Thanks, anyway, guys," she said. "That definitely helped."
"—now move far away enough that they can't hear you and find another candidate —"
Harriet walked past hunting supplies and tennis, entering swimwear.
"—and try the same technique with him."
Harriet plucked a bathing suit off a rack. "Can you give me an opinion on how I would look in this?" she asked the nearest man. He was near fifty, Em perceived, his t-shirt too tight and his body too tan despite his frosted hair.
The bathing suit Harriet was holding up was the bottom half of a string bikini. From the way Harriet was holding it, Em didn't think the girl was even aware that kind of garment was in her hand.
"I think you would look spectacular," he said.
"Really?" Harriet sounded surprised. She was blushing, Em realized. "You think I should try it on?"
He chuckled. "I would love to see you in it."
No, Harriet! Em's brain screamed.
"Abort, Harriet," said Colin, sharply, over the mic. "Tell him you have to go. Make an excuse — your cell phone's ringing."
"Um, hold on." Harriet dug into the shoulder bag, sending static popping wildly over the hidden mic. "There's my phone. Oh, look, my doctor's calling. I have to go." She hung the bathing suit back on the rack, her eyes widening as she saw the garment's skimpiness for the first time.
"Serious?" The bronzed, seasoned campaigner was gazing after Harriet as she practically ran from the store, her cell phone in a death grip.
"Was that all right?" Once she was outside, she asked this question, sounding a little breathless.
"Fine," Colin answered. His voice was tight.
"Now where?" Harriet was strolling uncertainly in the crowded plaza.
"The bookstore near the corner," suggested Em. "That seems like a nice change of pace."
"The bookstore?" Harriet sounded dubious. "But the guy behind the sales counter looks kind of ... dull."
"Perfect," said Colin. He ignored the look of exasperation Em shot him.
*****
There were no more disasters like the swimwear snafu, although there were still several awkward moments. Harriet's approach was too forced and overly-friendly, which seemed to be the only way she could combat her nerves.
A whole afternoon of bad beginnings. Surely Harriet would be devastated. Surprisingly, however, Em found her fairly pragmatic about the whole event when she showed up for their Sunday one-on-one at Harriet's apartment.
"It was interesting," Harriet said. "Kind of fun. I mean, it wasn't something I would do often, but it could have been a lot worse." She glanced at Em. "Thanks for trying to help me break out of my shell like that."
"I'm glad you feel that way, but it wasn't my idea," Em admitted. "It was Do—I mean, Colin's."
"Really?" Harriet's eyes widened.
"Really," echoed Em.
Harriet was quiet a moment. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
Harriet looked shy. "Does Doctor Ferris — Colin — not like me very much?"
"What makes you ask?"
"Um, well, he just seems kind of quiet whenever we have our sessions. You know? He kind of likes talking over the phone better than talking to me in person. I just kind of get this vibe that he doesn't like doing it. Talking to me."
Em hesitated. "Doctor Ferris is more of an organizer," she answered. "A planner, or a strategist in therapy. That is, he comes up with ideas for it, more than being the guy who puts it in motion."
"Oh," said Harriet.
"So he's just uncomfortable with the project's approach," Em continued. "But he'll get the hang of it, I'm sure."
"So don't worry about
it?
"Exactly."
She thought of Harriet's words again on Monday morning as she climbed the steps of Harriet's office building. Colin was walking ahead of her, gaze focused on the concrete steps below. He looked as if all this suffering for his career's sake was burdening him like a heavy load of rocks.
She hoped what she said to Harriet was true — that he was simply out of practice. She hated to think that somebody who was currently readers' topmost choice for relationship advice secretly hated talking to people about their love lives.
In the lobby, Colin stopped walking. "We don't need to go in," he said.
"What do you mean?" Em said. "Harriet's going to take her big step. We're here to support."
"Yes. And we will. But let's not stand there, hovering in the background, while she takes it."
"Well, I don't mind standing there. No one will notice." Em continued on, following Vic.
Harriet was hovering near her desk, wringing her hands. "Hi." She moistened her lips and attempted a smile.
"So." Em smiled back. "Are you ready?"
"I think so."
"It's just a single question asked to a friend. A friendly invitation to lunch tomorrow."
"Right." Harriet took a deep breath. "So I can do this?"
"Absolutely." She squeezed Harriet's hands. "I'll be right here. Just pretend that I'm a friend standing by to congratulate you after you face this moment. This is just you walking over there to say hello to another friend." She did her best to ignore Vic's attempts at discreet filming, and hoped Harriet was doing the same.
Harriet crossed the room. Em recognized the figure near the mail cart as the same blond boy from the pictures. Elton Richards, twenty-six, over-the-phone product assistance, chairman of the office morale committee. She held her breath as Harriet joined him.
They were talking. Elton smiled. He said something and Harriet laughed — nervously — Em noticed. Elton glanced up, his eye on Em briefly, then sliding towards the room in general.
Emma Knows All Page 7
