Page 104 of Reckless

Dad and I moved past our differences in the last two months since I came back. We talked about how people’s feelings towards him and his work affected me as a child. I told him about Tyler, sparing him the details around the fuck buddy arrangement and the entire gravity of his illegal activities in Boston. He didn’t like the fact I was involved with someone who broke the law, but he didn’t condemn Tyler either.

“Sometimes behind a bad deed hides a good intention,” he said to me and I felt like years of frustration had drained out of me with that simple sentence.

Two weeks later, just a few days after New Year’s, I was tucked inside the bathroom of my newly purchased office, with a man Dad had sent to fix the shower situation, while I was also actively trying not to think about how Tyler spent his birthday. We hadn’t seen each other since that evening I told him I was moving back to California. It took all the strength I had in me not to text him for his birthday, but I knew it was the right thing. For the both of us.

“Don’t you want to remodel the entire bathroom?” The man that came to fix my shower asked and cut my spiraling thoughts.

“I don’t want to spend a lot of money.”

I didn’t really have an income yet, if you didn’t count one family from Boston I was still consulting online. They decided they wanted to continue working with me, rather than to start with someone new. But that was it. I had no other clients. I was basically living off my savings and sleeping for free at my parents’. I didn’t want a fancy, expensive remodeling.

“I could do it for free after working hours. You will only have to pay for the materials.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You father told me you are a life coach.”

“I am,” I said warily.

“I have a niece. Dana. She’s nineteen. Her son is three years old. She lacks perspective. Or motivation. I don’t know. She is smart though. I think she can do anything if she decides to. She just doesn’t want to. I will remodel the bathroom for free, if you take her as a client.”

“I can’t help anyone who doesn’t want to be helped.”

“I know. Could you meet her once? And see how it goes?”

I wasn’t sure what good would that do, but I agreed. The next day he came back at five with Dana and her little boy. I couldn’t help but think about Liam. He was about the same age.

“I will start with the bathroom,” Dana’s uncle said, and I nodded.

Eager to talk to someone who could really benefit from what I did, I invited Dana to my office. The furniture currently consisted of a small glass coffee table and nothing else, so I sat down on the carpet. The boy did the same and Dana followed. I gave her son paper and crayons.

“I don’t have money for this,” Dana said to me, anger flashing in her eyes.

“You don’t have to pay me.”

She stayed silent for a while, then said. “My uncle told me you can fix someone like me.”

What an approach. No wonder she didn’t want to be here.

“People fix themselves. I just help them see things that they can’t notice on their own.”

“And how do you do that?”

“Asking questions.”

“Have you ever had a client like me?” Her cheeks reddened.

“What do you mean?”

“Poor. Teen mom. Uneducated.”

I had never had a poor client in my career. And the youngest mothers I usually worked with were in their mid-thirties.

“You don’t look uneducated to me,” I said honestly. “But you have a point. I have never worked with someone in your situation before. I would like to though.” She remained silent for a while and I focused on her son. “He seems to have fun.”

“He loves to drawl,” Dana said with pride. “He got that from me. I used to doodle all the time.”

“What made you stop?”

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