Page 67 of Crying Shame

He massaged my shoulders. “Logical, smart, organized—these are some of your cuter qualities.”

I scrunched my nose and typed out my next line. “Now I’m cute, like a puppy?”

He continued his soft touch on my neck. “No, cute like a cupcake.”

My body was like a sponge, ready to absorb his touch, but I stared at the screen and asked, “So I’m dessert?”

He kissed the top of my head. “What’s going on, Clarissa?”

“I’m sorting out… this work. You’ll have my total, undivided attention in less than five minutes.”

He nodded, clearly excited. “Then we can take a break and enjoy the afternoon before we go get Sam at school.”

Being with Elon made me happy. That should be enough. “Exactly.”

I typed faster. He pushed his chair back. “I’ll stay still.”

“You’re making me laugh.” I hoped the letters I typed were the ones I meant to strike. It was hard to concentrate on anything while he was waiting for me.

32

Elon

Clarissa was on the phone when I stepped out of the shower. After I dressed, I heard her in the hall. “I’ll make a change to the schedule, Dr. Mencini. Give me five minutes.”

She thrived when she was working.

She came into my bedroom and smiled. My heart beat faster. When she’d first come to live with me, she’d been hesitant, but she seemed happier now.

"That was Dr. Mencini," she said.

"I heard. He’s super detailed about everything.”

She motioned for me to come out of the room. As we headed downstairs together, she said, “All your colleagues fit that description, but at least the on-call stuff wasn’t posted yet, so I can add in the request.”

We detoured into what had becomeouroffice. “I’m glad it’s you that I have doing all this for me,” I said.

She made the change to the schedule quickly. “Done. Let’s go pick up Sam.”

Perfect.She'd included me in her plans as though she, Sam, and I were a family. I kept my feelings to myself and drove us to Sam's school in my BMW.

It seemed like it took longer to get to the front of the carpool line than it did when we were sitting in the back of the limo, working as we waited. Finally, we made it to the pickup spot. Sam walked up to the BMW with his teacher. She said, “Mr. and Mrs. Norouzi, can we talk for a minute?”

“We’re not married,” Clarissa said quickly and then hung her head.

Sam did the same. My back muscles tightened. I wasn’t sure how to respond. The teacher, an elderly woman with gray streaks in her hair, was focused and unflinching. “Sam’s bright and catching up with all his work,” she said.

“That’s great to hear,” I said.

She crossed her arms as Sam got into the car and took a seat in the back. I told her I'd pull the car over, then I jumped out to speak with her.

“I’m concerned he’s not making friends with kids his own age,” the teacher said.

“He made fast friends with his cousin,” I said.

“She’s not here, and he’s avoiding the other children in his class.”

Friends mattered, I knew. “He’s joining a youth football team, so hopefully that will help.”