Page 18 of Perfect Assumption

“Ms. Fahey, we’d recommend counseling. There’s very obviously a problem,” the head of the Student Conduct Board called out in a clear, controlled voice.

“Angie-love, you can stay here as long as you need to. One day, you’ll move past this,” my grandmother reassured me.

“Come here, pumpkin,” the gruff voice of my grandfather echoes in my brain as I remember the times when I stood with wet hair in the door of his library. He hugged me and ran a hand through my hair until the sopping, ropey length began to dry.

The invisible chains of the past try to snap around me, to drown the progress I’ve made in the last ten years as I step from the shower. Determinedly, I recall one of the sessions with my psychologist where he said to me, “You know the truth. You live with the truth, and you have to live your life assuming everyone else believes you as well.”

“Do you believe me?” I anxiously awaited the answer.

He hesitated. And in that moment, I was back in that small room. I lived and died a thousand times, until he finally said, “This isn’t a place to be judged. I will say, I hope I manage to raise my daughter to be as honorable as you one day.”

As the tears began to spill, he handed me a box of tissues. “We’ve spoken of the support of your grandparents. What about your parents?”

After I blew my nose, I asked, “What about them?”

“Have they been supportive?”

“Certainly.”

“That’s…”

“Of Michael.”

“Excuse me?” The hand he used to take notes, which normally was smoothly elegant, scratched like a needle across a record.

“They went to the media and sold them information about me. I haven’t spoken with them in five years now.” Even as I slip into my pajamas and a sweatshirt Sula sent me from Ireland, I’m still awed by how calm I was when I admitted that.

Finally, the cold in the room begins to penetrate through me. I quickly wring out my hair and braid it so I don’t have to worry about doing much more than brushing it before I race out the door in the morning.

* * *

The next morningat the office is unusually somber. At first, I begin to wonder if it’s something about me until Carys informs me, “Ward will be out all day, Angie. He’s ill. Can you address any scheduled appointments he has? Work the urgent ones in with me if you have to.”

I do a quick scan of Ward’s calendar. “There’s a call with…” I don’t even get to finish my sentence before Carys interrupts me to say, “That’s fine. Just move it over to me.”

I shorten Carys’s previous meeting by five minutes and slide the meeting to her schedule. “All set.”

“Great.” Carys spins on her red-soled heel to head back inside, but something drives me to reach out much the same way she did to me.

“Carys?” She stops midstride but doesn’t turn around. I get to my feet. “Is something wrong?”

Her shoulders sag for just a moment before they square off. She turns around, and her face is determined. Her face is completely blank of any emotion. For just a moment, I’m startled because it’s just like looking into a mirror. “It’s just going to be a brutal day. Brace.”

“Right.” Since that tells me absolutely nothing, I slip into my own armor and turn around to prepare for battle, uncertain of who the enemy is or what direction they may be coming from.

I’m only all too aware they could come in beautiful packages bearing gifts, much like the Greeks did when they invaded Troy.

Eight

Ward

Is there anything more delicious than Beckett Miller? Watching him devour a pretzel covered in mustard on a city street is enough for me to get all hot and bothered. Okay, maybe if his abs were drenched in that mustard. That would be even better.

— Moore You Want

“Ishould kick your ass right now. We both know I easily could,” David informs me as he slides into the booth across from me.

I rub a hand across my forehead. The lingering nausea and fogginess when I woke today led me to send an email I would be out of the office. I immediately received a reply from my brother-in-law telling me if I wasn’t at the ER, then to haul my ass to our favorite diner within the hour. “Nonnegotiable” was the way he phrased it in his message.