Page 79 of Maid in America

“Alright.” He removed his golden headband and set it on her head. “Follow-up question… when was the last time you cut loose and did something other than this?”

She tried to think through the foggy haze of exhaustion and the hum of the wine.

“I’m not sure if youheard mewhen I said people need me to fix this. Ourcompanyis at stake. People’sjobsare at stake. I can’t just go off and have fun. That wouldn’t solve anything.”

“Maya, you deserve a life of your own. Your coding issue has had everything frozen for days, right?”

Nodding her head, tears welled in her tired eyes. She quickly wiped them away. “Yeah.”

“One more night won’t hurt.”

She scoffed, shaking her head before Barrett gently grabbed her chin. “You have to clear your head. You are too close to the problem. You just gotta step away for a bit. Get some sleep. Get out and live a little.”

“And do what? I don’t have any friends here yet.” She waved her glass, spilling a little bit of wine on the counter. Like lightning, Barrett was on his feet, snatching up a paper towel to clean it.

“What about your coworkers?” he asked sincerely, worried eyes staring at her with sincere concern. “Don’t you have any work friends you can go get a bite to eat with? Or a beer?”

“Barrett, nobody wants to hang out with their boss in their free time.”

“Come out with me tonight.”

“Barrett, you are so out of my league it’s uncomfortable to even look at you sometimes. I can’t—”

“No, Maya, not on adate,” he interrupted. “I’ll introduce you to a few people here, one of which I think you might have stuff in common with. We’ll drink, cut loose, and have a few beers. Hell, maybe break some laws. It’ll be so fun. You gotta see some of Jackson Hole.”

“I can’t.”

“Maya, let me show you a good time. We gotta get you out of this house. Please? For me?”

She pinched her eyes closed, shaking her head at his insistence. “Fine.”

“Great. I’ll swing by and pick you up at seven, alright?”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know, but I want to. Until then, you have one assignment. And, Maya, this is crucial.”

She stared up at him blankly.

“Take anap. If anyone has earned it, it’s you.”

30

Chastity lurched up fromthe tufted lounger and paced the room. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She spat, more to herself than him. “This isbullshit.”

“Sorry to say, but it isn’t B.S., it’s reality. I know you only came to me to get a second opinion, but I’m afraid I have to agree with your last therapist.” His voice was even, almost disinterested.

“Notmyreality!” she snapped. The anger inside of her was so tempestuous she feared she might set him aflame with the intensity of her stare. But a moment later, her snarl soon faded away to a hopeless regret. She knew she was feeding into the diagnosis, the stigma, but she couldn’t seem to control her emotions. They always seemed to have a mind of their own. This moment was no exception.

Dr. Brown, contrary to his name, was a balding white man, though his clean-shaven face made him look younger than the age his crown of gray hair suggested he was. His hands rested in his lap near his bulging waistline, the button of his coat tilting up as the material stretched. His leather swivel chair creaked as he twisted this way and that in an attempt to follow her.

“So, that’s it, then? I’m for sure bipolar? So now, I get to slap a warning label on my forehead for the rest of my life?”

“Based on what you’ve told me, you have had this for a long time. You have anamefor it now. And that name comes with a world of options. You can start planning an attack, combating the extremes, leveling out your impulsivity, and so forth.”

Chastity’s eyes angrily roamed his office, one decorated with emotion-inducing paintings and several confidence-inspiring plaques, diplomas, and awards hung on the wall with care.

“How do you know for sure? You spent, what, an hour and fifteen minutes talking to me, and you just…know?”

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