“Well, sounds like you might have an interesting story. Tell me when and where, and I’ll do my best.”
Life has brought me downtown to a stuffy little waiting room where I’m about to see my new counselor, an individual Cooper only described as a woman named Ling. It’s impossible not to feel ridiculous when you walk up to the counter and say you are there to see Ling. Is that a first name? A last name? I wouldn’t know, because I’ve been ambushed into coming here on completely false pretenses—sentenced and serving time without a verdict or any evidence. This is a completely unfair counseling incarceration.
“Maddie?” a middle-aged woman with long dark hair asks, standing partially in the doorway.
“Yes?”
“I’m Tania Ling. Why don’t you step into my office?”
She doesn’t look too awfully intimidating, but she probably takes on that mild demeanor so she can really get her clients to trust her before she lashes into them.
I follow Tania into her office, which looks like it was decorated in the early ‘80’s. It is neat and tidy, but there’s nothing modern about it. She lowers herself behind the desk, and I sit in a chair in front of her. The good news is, there is no couch, so hopefully she won’t try to analyze me.
“I must say, Maddie, you’re not at all what I pictured.”
“Really?” I reply, afraid to ask what she pictured.
“You look really healthy,” she states, her forehead creasing a bit.
“Thank you!” I exclaim, realizing a little too late that “healthy” is probably a polite way of saying I’m really not skinny enough to look anorexic. And why should I be offended by that, when I’ve been saying it myself all along? I do look healthy, after all.
“So, tell me a little about your eating disorder.”
She doesn’t pull out her notebook to write down my answers or anything. She simply folds her hands together on her desk, ready to listen.
“I don’t have an eating disorder,” I state. She shakes her head and looks toward her office door.
“I’m sorry,” Tania says. “The lady who takes the appointments told me that you were coming in because you’re bulimic. Our mistake, I guess. What are we really seeing you for, then?”
“That is why I’m here, actually.”
“I’m confused.” For a moment, I ponder explaining this misunderstanding to the lady before me.
“My boss made the appointment. He believes I’m bulimic.”
“I see,” she replies, nodding her head and beginning to twirl her thumbs around each other with her hands intertwined on top of her notebook. “Why does he believe that?”
“His secretary might have told him that.” I wrinkle my nose a bit before realizing my action.
“Interesting,” she states, lips curling into a smile. “And why does the secretary think you’re bulimic?”
“My mother told her.”
“And your mother?”
“She’s just insane.”
“I don’t think calling your mother insane is going to help us come to any realistic conclusion here,” Tania scolds. Of course, I knew she would go all counselor on me eventually.
“Okay, I guess the truth is that I lost some weight by exercising and eating right, and she came to her own conclusions.”
Tania purses her lips and taps her finger on the desk a few times. “Why would your mother rather assume you were bulimic instead of physically fit?”
“Do you have all day?” I wonder, glancing at my watch.
She laughs softly and nods a couple times. “Okay, not a topic we’ll delve into right now, then. This secretary, is she a friend of your mother’s?”
“No, she just happened to pick up the phone once when my mother was calling me.” If I could go back in time, I would pinpoint the exact moment of that phone call and would not have left my desk for any reason. Period.
“So your mother proceeded to tell her that you were bulimic, and the secretary just blindly believed her?”
“Not at first,” I reply, trying to remember exactly how it happened. “She said that she didn’t want to believe it, but then she started to see evidence.”
“Evidence,” Tania repeats, unclenching her hands and placing them in her lap. “What type of evidence?”
“Vomiting, mostly.”
“Vomiting?”
“Perhaps a little strange behavior.”
“Vomiting and strange behavior.”
“Yes, I would say that’s about it.”
“Maddie,” she begins, clearing her throat, “I’ve got to tell you—that does sound a little odd. How do you explain those things?”
“Well, initially it was food poisoning by a rotten fish sandwich. Then there was a guy on the elevator with BO… Then it was my boss ordering seafood over and over, which I simply couldn’t place in an elevator with me, thus the strange behavior. I have a really weak stomach, and when I start thinking about things, or smelling things, it’s my undoing. I kept trying to think of different ways to get his gross food to my office without actually accompanying it on the way. I know that probably sounds bizarre.”
Tania starts laughing, and I just sit there uncomfortably. She surely thinks I’m a lunatic. She’s going to call Cooper when I leave and recommend that he take me directly to a psychiatric ward or something. They’re going to put me in a padded cell with one of those white coats on so my arms are tied behind my back.
“I’m sorry, Maddie. I think I get the picture.”
“You do?” I ask quietly.
“Yes, I do. It’s really unfortunate that your mom planted the seeds that led to this appointment, but I think you’ll be just fine.”
“What about my boss?”
“I’ll tell you what…I’ll write a letter for you right now that will help you clear up the issue.”
Sitting patiently as she puts pen to paper, I’m thrilled that someone finally believes me about this idiotic nonsense, and I wonder what she’s writing in that letter.
Dear Mr. Cooper,
You and your staff are completely paranoid. Please do not inflict any more of this baloney on Maddie Heard.
Ha, that would tell him, wouldn’t it? Of course, I would be sure to make Dina a copy as well. Maybe they would think twice about ganging up on me if something like this ever came up again.
“There you go,” Tania says, sliding the paper toward me. I pull it off the desk with my fingertips and grasp it in my hand.
“Thank you,” I tell her as I stand up and head to the door, turning around after only a couple steps. “We’re all done here, right?”
“We’re finished,” she agrees with a smile.
Heading back out into the waiting room, I pause briefly before leaving the building to read the letter she has written.
To Whom it May Concern:
Upon speaking in length with Madeline Heard, it is my opinion that she does not have an eating disorder. On the contrary, it would appear that Ms. Heard is in excellent health, with the exception of a slightly weak stomach. I could find no obvious reason to be concerned about her physical or emotional health at this time.
Sincerely,
Tania Ling
I couldn’t wait to put my letter on Cooper’s desk after the counseling session. I made a copy for Dina as well, and a copy for my mother, which I promptly mailed upon arriving home that same evening. Who knows if it will end her accusations, but at least she will have some written documentation that she is wrong, whether she chooses to admit it or not.
It feels so good to finally put this silliness behind me and concentrate on what is really important. The idea that the tennis match is looming in the near future is the only thing that should really concern me. Every time I try to wrap my brain around the aftermath of the match, I envision myself being sent to another department within the company. He doesn’t need an assistant, after all. He has Dina, who handles all his work for him. I’m nothing but a glorified errand girl who occasionally works on special projec
ts, and I have to ask his permission to do that. He always has the same opinion—anything is fine, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my tennis lessons.
In my worst nightmares, I imagine that he will send me back to the Marketing Department to work for Bill Davies. Bill will promptly make me a subordinate to Shelly, and then I will be her errand girl. If it’s any consolation, running errands for Shelly would probably be preferable to running them for Cooper. She would probably have me do more interesting things than picking up fish sandwiches and finding socks of a very distinct color.
Plus, I’m sure she would never make me take her teeth to the dentist.
That’s only the worst case scenario, though. There are lots of other departments to which he could send me. I’ll be sitting in a little cubicle, bored out of my mind, anxiously watching the clock each day until it’s time to go home. He might even place me somewhere where he knows I won’t stay, hoping that I’ll walk out one day and never come back.
At least I will have finished the party for Audrey before anything happens. My most sincere hope is that it will help her forget all the problems she’s had the past couple of months, and that it will bring her family closer together. Besides, that girl really needs a boost in the self-esteem department, and I think this could help a great deal.
February 24th—for some reason, that feels very much like the culmination of everything…a real pivot point.
When the day comes, maybe I’ll figure out why.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Believe it or not, Dina hasn’t uttered a word about the letter from the counselor. Cooper hasn’t mentioned it, either. You would think he might have given me an apology, after sending me across town to discuss a problem I didn’t even have with a complete stranger, but no such request for forgiveness has ever been extended. I guess I didn’t really expect it, knowing Cooper as I do, but it still would have been a nice gesture. Let’s face it—the only reason he even cared whether or not I was unhealthy in the first place was that it would have interrupted his planned tennis thrashing.
Mom never mentioned the letter to me, either, come to think of it. Then again, she hasn’t called since I sent it, so I’m not really surprised. If I did happen to bring it up, she would probably say it must have been lost in the mail. If she ever did admit to having received it, she would probably say that she doesn’t know anyone named Tania Ling, and she could be a complete and total quack. I’m sure she would like to send me to a counselor of her own, but only after she went herself and briefed him or her on my numerous problems and issues.
Lance called a couple days ago to ask me a favor. I was a little surprised to hear his voice, because Brittany is usually the one who tries to keep contact with me. (I wasn’t disappointed, though, just to make myself clear.) He told me that Marilyn and Jordan were both going to sleepovers on Valentine’s Day, and asked if I would be willing to watch Abigail for a couple of hours. “I know you don’t have any plans, since you’re single,” he explained.
My first reaction was to be offended, naturally, but then I realized he was right, and there was no use being insulted by the truth. I agreed to watch her, and I’m actually looking forward to it. I haven’t heard from Brittany since Christmas, when I left her gifts stuffed in the cushions of Mom’s couch. I’m still fairly incensed over that whole ordeal. Every time I think about it, I want to scream.
Valentine’s Day stinks when you’re single on the top floor of Cooper Corporate Financial. Everyone was feeling the love today, even Dina. It was like a day-long reminder that I am sad and alone.
So, as soon as I get home, I focus on decompressing. Here I am, sprawled out on the recliner, noisily chewing on a carrot, watching some documentary about sea life on television when the doorbell rings. I glance down at my sweatpants, T-shirt, and slippers, giving myself a once-over. I look like complete garbage, I know.
Walking over to the door, I peek out the window. Brittany? What is she doing here? And Lance, and…
Yeah, I completely forgot. Who knows why I agreed to do this in the first place. How could they be so inconsiderate, just imposing upon me on a holiday like I have nothing better to do?
Of course, Maddie’s a loser, so she’ll be home—let’s take our kid to her house.
I know I’m being ridiculous, but sometimes it’s helpful to have a little bit of a pity party.
“Hi,” I say, opening the door. Brittany does a quick sweep of my clothing with her eyes before she steps in, Lance right behind her, baby carrier in hand.
“You look terrible,” she states. “Are you sick?”
Yes, sick. That’s a good excuse.
“Actually, yes, a little.”
“Nothing contagious, I hope,” she says, glancing over at Abigail.
“Just something I ate, probably,” I reply, hastily thrusting the carrot into my pocket. “I’ll completely understand if you don’t feel comfortable leaving Abby here, though.”
“We already made reservations,” Lance tells me, glancing at Brittany.
“Yes, she’ll be fine. You can take care of her, right?” Brittany stands in front of me, arms crossed, giving me an icy stare.
“Of course I can,” I reply defiantly.
“Okay, we’ll be on our way then,” Brittany states. “The instructions are in the diaper bag. She just ate before we came, so she’ll be fine for a while.”
Lance places the handle to the baby carrier in my palm, and Brittany drops the diaper bag on the corner of the sofa.
“We should only be a couple of hours,” Lance tells me, and I nod in response. They both walk to the door and quickly disappear. Standing in the middle of the room, I stare blankly at the empty doorway. Abigail stirs in her carrier, and I set it down and begin unbuckling the straps around her arms.
“Hi there, Abigail,” I catch myself saying in hushed baby talk. “I’m Aunt Maddie, remember me? It’s been a little while.”
I finally manage to remove the straps and lift her into the air, and she snuggles into the crook of my arm. Her little eyes stare up into my face, and she makes a tiny O with her lips. Laughing, I stroke her cheek with my finger as my heart wells up with emotion.
She makes a little noise and then spits up down the front of my T-shirt, at which point I simply grab a cloth and wipe it off. “That’s the kind of luck I have, Abigail. Just hanging around alone on Valentine’s Day, getting puked on.”
The doorbell rings again, and I cross to look through the blinds, seeing Hazel standing outside. Swinging the door open, I smile at her over Abigail’s wiggling body.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were babysitting,” she says quickly.
“It’s okay,” I reply. “You want to come in?”
“Sure. I brought you dinner and a funny movie.”
“Funny sounds good,” I state, moving out of her way. She carries the food to the kitchen and then returns to where I’m standing in the living room, glancing at little Abigail.
“It’s awfully nice of you to watch your niece.”
“That’s what happens when you’re hopelessly single,” I tell her with a wink. “Anyway, I wasn’t being nice. I just couldn’t think of an excuse.”
She laughs as she sits on the couch. “So, Josh told me about the party you’re having for Audrey. I just think it’s wonderful what you’re doing.”
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“I remember the day you came over after the preacher spoke about loving your enemies. Do you remember that? You said that it felt like he was talking to you.”
“Yeah,” I agree cautiously.
“Well, you must have really taken his words to heart. I bet you wouldn’t have guessed then that you’d be throwing such a lavish party.”
Not bothering to answer her, I stare blankly at a bare spot on the wall. I guess I haven’t bothered to think about it at all since that day, really. What was it that Reverend Shell had said that Sunday, when he kept looking at me? Watch for an opportunity, or something or other. Could the
re be some reason that I was supposed to befriend Audrey and help her through a difficult time?
“And now here you are helping your sister-in-law, when she’s been so difficult with you in the past,” Hazel continues, smiling at me. “You must have taken the message to heart, sweetie.”
“I’m just fumbling along,” I insist. “Surely you know that.”
“Hmm, no, I don’t know that,” she tells me quietly, patting me on the shoulder. “Josh said to tell you hello when you got home from whatever date you were on. I won’t tell him you’re babysitting.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I told Josh I’ve sworn off dating.”
“He must not have believed you,” she says with a smile. “You know, I think he was getting up at 5:30 in the morning, which is…9:30 here, right? Maybe you should tell him that he needs to believe you next time.”
“You want me to call Josh,” I surmise.
“Did I say that?” she wonders slyly. “Enjoy your dinner, and your little niece. I better get back home to Tucker. Tell Josh I said hi.”
“Thank you, Hazel,” I tell her as she reaches the door. “You are a silver lining in a sea of black clouds.”
“So dramatic,” she insists with a laugh. “Goodnight, honey.”
She vanishes into the night, and I settle on the couch to watch the funny movie Hazel delivered. The dinner she brought consists of chicken enchiladas and chocolate covered strawberries. It’s such an odd combination that I nearly laugh, but it’s super sweet that she brought the food to me.
For her part, Abigail sleeps away while I watch the movie, like she’s not even concerned about the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day and her aunt Maddie is spending it alone and dressed like a hobo.
When Lance and Brittany return to pick up Abigail, they are both rather quiet. Brittany doesn’t throw any jabs at me, and they seem content enough that I didn’t damage their daughter. The minute they are out the door, I pick up my cell phone and stare at the screen.
Simply Mad (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 1) Page 32
