Page 61 of Escape Girl

I sighed angrily and threw up my hands. “Fine. No, I’m not. I’m not OK. I haven’t been OK in years.”

Jo’s eyes lit slightly, as though I’d given her an opening. “Let’s talk about that.”

Fuck no. I stared her down, but she didn’t blink. Tess pulled a chair to the edge of the bed, giving Jo both emotional and physical backup.

Ugh. I let my head thump back against the wall. They obviously weren’t going anywhere. I’d answer her stupid questions and then they’d leave and I could do…I could do…I could do…do what, exactly?

“When the girls were pestering you in the office about why you left Bobby, you said that you left because you were miserable. You were telling the truth,” Jo said. “I know you were—but can you try explaining it to me a little more?”

I blew out a shaking breath. “Yeah. But I’ll sound crazy.”

“Dude, all the best people are crazy,” Tess said, and I almost smiled at the wry support.

Jo just sat there and waited, so I tried hard to verbalize what happened to me last winter. “After we got married, Bobby and I moved in together in San Francisco. The fall had been such a miracle, such a whirlwind. We fell in love, we got engaged. I felt alive, different than I had in years. Almost like I was waking up from a bad dream or something.”

I licked my lips and swallowed more beer. “But not long after the wedding, I just started to lose it. I was angry all the time. At everyone. I was insanely irritable.” I snorted. “I’ve never been exactly sunny or perky, but I suddenly was in constant full-bitch mode for no reason.”

Shame flooded my face. “Then came the paranoia, which I had no idea what to do with. I didn’t want Bobby out of my sight, but if he was in sight, I was so mean.

“There were days I just cried,” I admitted, whispering. “I didn’t know why I would have these waves of depression or any of the other shit. But I knew it had something to do with Bobby. I’d never experienced any of these things before we got married. Now, suddenly, I was really mentally ill. It was absolutely terrifying.”

I raised my stricken face to Jo. “I know it was nothing he did. Of course I know that. But I also know that it started with him. It makes no sense. But I was losing my mind. I was treating him terribly too. I had to leave.”

They sat quietly for a moment, Jo nodding. Any moment now, they’d probably exchange uneasy glances, find a reason toleave. “A bit more crazy than you bargained for, huh?” I tried to joke.

Tess snorted. “Don’t come at me with that weak shit, lady. You’re amateur-crazy, at best.” I blinked in surprise.

Jo cleared her throat and spoke more quickly than before. “Emily, tell me about your life after your dad disappeared to Chicago.”

I shook my head, a little whiplashed by the sudden and complete change of topics. “Uh, I went back to my last semester of law school and graduated. Got a super-intense job in Seattle.” What did that have to do with anything?

“After your father came back into your life, how often did the two of you discuss your mother?”

Why was she speaking so fast? I felt like I needed to answer quickly too, to match the rhythm. “Not once.”

Another rapid-fire question. “Between graduating law school and when you moved back to San Francisco from Seattle, how often did you take vacations or have time off?”

“Almost never,” I shot back immediately. This super-quick Q&A was sort of fun. I was just answering without even thinking.

Jo’s lips were practically a blur. “Who was your absolute favorite person in the world growing up?”

Duh. “My mom.”

“Who is your favorite person in the world now?”

“Bobby.” His name shot of my mouth like a bullet because it was such an easy answer, but hearing it hang in the air made it feel like that same bullet took a U-turn into my heart.

“When did you leave Bobby?” This question was still asked quickly, but not as rapid-fire as the previous ones.

“March 31. Late at night.” I could still picture the inside of our walk-in closet, where I was blindly throwing clothes into a rolling bag, swallowing back shrieks of fury. Bobby had beendownstairs making me a cup of tea, baffled as to why I was so angry after our dinner out with my father.

“What did you do that evening?”

“We went to a restaurant with my dad.” Some of the anger was back with me now, much to my astonishment.

“Did something happen during the meal?” Her voice was so calm, so even, so rational. I kinda wanted to punch her.

“Nope. Bobby and Dad got along great. They both laughed a lot.” After his initial resistance to our engagement, it hadn’t taken my father long to warm up to Bobby. He appreciated how well informed Bobby always was on the news and how well read he was in general. It helped that Bobby quickly learned what made my father laugh, and that he was such a good listener. “For the first time, my dad even invited Bobby to go golfing with him.”

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