Page 22 of For Her Own Good

“Could we all flip to page eighty-three of the quarterly report? I think Ms. Patrick could use yet another review of our cash flow.”

Seriously. Violence has never been a symptom of the mental health issues I have, and given the expressions on the faces of the other board members in the room, it appears that most rational people would love to shiv this asshat through an eye. Annoyingly, I know they’re making a judgment aboutmeand not that annoying sack of shit Tad.

I’m about to say so, when my phone buzzes in front of me on the table. It’s Lowry.

Thrill and dread run up my spine in equal levels. I’ve wanted to speak with him. Have missed him since we last spoke, have clutched tightly to my daydreams about him even as I’ve tried to shove them from my mind. Is the universe trying to tell me something by having him call at the very moment I would most like to escape this godforsaken room? No matter if it is or not, I’ll take advantage of the excuse to get the heck out of Dodge.

“I don’t need to go over those cash flow numbers again, Tad. What I need to do is think about what I’d like to do with the information those numbers are giving me and I don’t need the board sitting around this table and staring at me while I work it out. Also, I’m getting a phone call from Harbinson which I ought to take. Excuse me.”

There’s a murmur of surprise from the room and I barely refrain from rolling my eyes as I push back my seat. They all know I have serious mental health issues, so I’m not sure why that ripple went through the room at the mention of Harbinson. Wouldn’t they rather I seek treatment and manage my depression as well as I can than not? Though it occurs to me like a punch to the gut that perhaps Tad wouldnotprefer that. He’d be able to sue for control by citing my instability. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. Yes, better to be transparent about the fact that I receive the finest psychiatric care in metro Boston and not leave any room for doubt about my competency.

I leave nineteen pairs of staring eyes behind as I stalk to the door, answering my phone as I do.

“Hello, this is Starla.”

“Starla, it’s Lowry. I’m so glad you’ve picked up. I thought…”

The air still feels stifling in the fiftieth floor hallway of what I will always think of as the John Hancock building, so I head to the elevator and slip open the first two buttons on my blouse.

“You thought what?”That I would like to be your darling little girl and the idea of you rejecting me makes me want to hide in my bathroom forever so I’ve been avoiding you? Correct!

“Ah, perhaps we could talk about it later,” he offers. Or never, which would be my preference. “But I wanted to ask if you were free this evening. Or perhaps you’ve already rebooked your Thursday evenings?”

Maybe I should get a cat. A cat wouldn’t judge me for scooping tuna salad out of the bowl with Doritos. They’d probably want to share. I could move into my father’s house, get a shit ton of cats, go allGrey Gardenson the place, and let’s be real—very few people would be surprised.

Or I could have dinner with Lowry and be a functional adult. I do enjoy giving the finger to the haters…

“I haven’t rebooked. What did you have in mind?”

I’m expecting him to give me the option of several cuisines or perhaps say he’ll text me with the name and address of the restaurant, but instead, he surprises me by asking, “What do you say instead of dinner, we go ice skating?”

“I say I’m terrible at skating.” I only ever went a few times as a kid, and mostly I remember the bruises I got from falling on my ass repeatedly.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to try out for the Olympics. I asked if you wanted to go skating. I used to go pond skating with my brothers near our house and it was always a good time. Course, mostly we ended up having a snowball fight.”

Ugh. Picturing little ginger Lowry out on a picturesque pond in some scuffed up skates taking a snowball to the face is… Goddamn the man. And it does sound nice. If I couldn’t let myself go on vacation with him, I could at least let myself have this, couldn’t I? Indulge that little part of me, which he’d never have to know.

Of course, it could turn out to be one of those things that looks fun in the movies and then is quite terrible in reality. But at least if he asks me to go skating again, I can say no without him being all reasonable and asking, “How do you even know you won’t like it if you haven’t done it in twenty-five years?”

His presence is twisted so deeply into my grey matter I make arguments for him. I’ll save my fighting for a battle I want to actually win, like the one against Tad and company, the people who have no faith in me and are likely rooting for me to fail.

“Fine. I’ll see you at the Frog Pond at seven thirty.”

* * *

Lowry

It’s darling what a terrible skater Starla is. I mean, really, truly terrible. She said she’d be bad, but I didn’t expect this. The woman can’t keep her feet under her to save her life. Of course, in addition to being adorable, it has the perk of her clinging to me as though I’m a life preserver on a frozen sea. My arm’s getting a bit sore from where her fingers are digging in hard even through the layers I put on so I wouldn’t freeze to death, but I don’t mind. Means I get to be close to her, feel her pressed up against me, and also smell her.

She smells like sweet almond cookies, like butter and sugar and all the good things. I could eat her up, but I won’t. That’s not our relationship, and though she’s given me far more than I could’ve ever expected from the way she reacted to seeing me on the plane, I won’t push for more. Especially after what happened when I suggested she could have it. So I will enjoy what I can, the way she swears under her breath as she inches along on the ice and clutches my arm, her chest snug against my biceps.

“When is time for hot cocoa? I was promised cocoa.”

She’s looking up at me, eyes round, tip of her nose red, and her cheeks rosy. This has got to be at once the best and worst idea I’ve ever had.

“Are your feet frozen blocks of ice? Do your toes feel as though they could snap right off? Because that’s when it’s time for cocoa, not before.”

“I feel like my nose hairs are frozen, is that good enough?”

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