Page 74 of Of Literature and Lattes
She was so stunned she couldn’t think what to say next.
The person on the other end took her silence as acquiescence and ended the call. “Thank you, Ms. Harrison.”
Alyssa tapped her lawyer’s number in Palo Alto.
“I can’t say good morning, Alyssa. Do you know what time it is out here?”
“It’s not good here anyway. I just got the call. For this morning. Ten o’clock. Did you hear me? As in two and a half hours from now.”
“Relax. That’s not unusual. We talked about this.” His voice came in a monotone across the line.
“‘Anytime’ does not mean less than three hours’ notice.”
He yawned. “Dress conservatively. Skip the coffee, please, and tell the truth.”
“That’s all you have to say? Aren’t you going to send someone? Don’t we need to prepare?”
“Of course I’m sending someone. Tracy Meyers will meet you in the lobby. She’ll be there by 9:50 a.m. and she’s up to speed. As I said, we’ve been waiting for this. And you are prepared. Tell the truth. It’s simple.”
“I’m glad I pay you so much.”
“At present you don’t pay me anything. Good-bye, Alyssa.”
Alyssa smiled. The man barely had a pulse, kept conversations to a minimum—which she knew had saved her money—and refused to charge her interest on her past due bills. He also knew his stuff. If he said not to worry, she could trust that—to the minimal degree it was possible.
She tapped Jeremy’s number next.
“Good morning. I can’t wait for you to get here. Are you on your way? I can start your latte. And I think I’m getting used to the pillows. It’s easy because they work. You should hear—”
“I’m not coming.” She cut him off. “I just got The Call. Ten o’clock. This morning.”
“Wow... Do you want me to come with you? Do you want me to drive you? What about your car? Take mine.”
She smiled. First Jeremy’s enthusiasm, then his instant concern, lifted her heart and relieved her fears. Sharing it—all of life, it felt like—lightened its burden. “I’ll be fine. Jasper said my car would be ready this morning, and my lawyer is sending someone to meet me. I’ll be okay... I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Call right after, will you? I mean...” He stalled, and she smiled.
She felt the same. The first reaction was to jump into the trenches together. The next was to pull back in fear they’d jumped too far, too fast, alone. “I will.”
Alyssa stayed on the line, unwilling to hang up. Yet the seconds were ticking away. “I gotta go.”
“Yeah, you do... You go. I’ll be here.”
He still didn’t click off, so she did.
Four horrid early 2000s outfits later, she relented and raided her mom’s closet. There was still so much they hadn’t talked about—including borrowing clothes. She cast back to her refusal that first day and all the anguish and anger behind it. Talking with Lexi had given her relationship with her mom a new perspective, but it hadn’t banished the distrust, the anger, and the frustration completely. In many ways, she admitted, her approach to her mom and their dynamic felt like the old clothes in her closet. Out of date. Out of fashion. But necessary. If she didn’t wear them, what would she wear? Who would she be?
She pulled down one of her mom’s blue skirts, then sifted through her blouses. There were so many bright ones, colorful ones. So different from her own closet. Alyssa favored more muted colors, solids, slim cuts, and no frills. Her mom, on the other hand, was no stranger to color, silk, scoops, and flounces. Alyssa wondered how she’d never noticed before.
She finally found a tapered and starched white blouse with wide bell sleeves—her mom’s most conservative option—to pair with the blue skirt.
Then she called Jasper.
“I know you mentioned it might be ready today, but... is it?”
“She’s good to go. Finished her up Friday, but you had the weekend off and I didn’t want to bug you. You probably wanted it?”
“Not at all, but I need it this morning. Do you mind if I take the day off? I have an interview.”
