Page 27 of Confessions of a High School Guidance Counselor

Ollie followed me silently, back to the room that would be his.

I pulled up the cordless blinds, showing him the expansive space we could make our own. “Isn’t it amazing?” I said. “I think we could put a greenhouse in that back corner if you wanted one and plant a garden there, and then I was thinking between those two trees a hammock, and maybe I could even build a deck back there and get a gas fireplace set up. It could be really great for us, don’t you think?”

He was being quiet. Really quiet. I turned to him, waiting to see his reaction, and my chest tightened. His lips were set in a line, and his shoulders were so tense they could crack a walnut.

Linda looked between the two of us and backed away slowly. “I’ll give the two of you a minute.”

“What the hell is this, Dad?” Ollie demanded.

I shook my head. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been looking at houses?”

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise you.” I was confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

“This house is forty minutes away from Mom’s. Did you think about that?”

“Well, I—”

“You didn’t think I’d want to see the place you settled on? Wouldn’t want to have a say where I spent most of my time?”

Okay, now I was getting hurt. And angry. If I was a kid, I would have been damn thankful to have a place like this. I would have done fucking anything to have a dad who bought a place with me in mind, ready to make it my own.

“Watch it, Ollie,” I snapped.

“Or what?” he said. “You’ll buy this house without consulting me? Move me again?”

I could see the hurt in his face, and I immediately regretted taking him here. He’d been having a bad day before I ever even picked him up. The timing was wrong.

Still, I couldn’t help my disappointment at yet another rejection as I said, “Let’s go home.”

15

Birdie

Confession: My real name is Beatrice.

I looked out the window of Mara’s living room. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“What?” She looked up from her computer as she sat in her big, cushy writing chair, her topknot bobbing as she did. Mara was on a deadline, and I was pretty sure she hadn’t showered, or left that chair, since Wednesday night. It was Saturday afternoon.

I opened the curtain further so she could see the sleek black limo waiting in her driveway. “I just got a text from my mother insisting I go to their cocktail party for my sister-in-law’s gender reveal party. Who does that anyway? Throws a cocktail party for someone who can’t drink?”

Mara looked up thoughtfully. “Maybe they’ll serve mocktails?”

“Mara, help me! The driver is walking to the door!”

“What?” she said. “It’s not like he can come in here and drag you there.”

I let the curtains fall back. “No, but he’ll report back, and before you know it, my mother will be on your doorstep.”

Mara frowned. “It’s funny, because it’s true.”

We both knew it wasn’t funny.

“May be best just to get it over with?” she said with a shrug. “The food’s usually pretty good at those things anyway.”

I sighed and walked to the door. The driver was midway down the sidewalk when I opened it and said, “I’ll be out in ten.”

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