Page 63 of The Heartbreak Hotel
“Guess you’ll have to call me when you get home to finish chewing me out.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh, like I’m a child getting on her last nerve. “I’m not trying to chew you out, Lou. I’m trying to look out for you.”
“Are you?” I turn, stack of tattoo papers in one hand.“Because it feels like I have a good thing going here, and you don’t care because it’s not what you imagined for me.”
“Is this whatyouimagined for you?” Goldie counters, taking a step closer to me. “Not getting your license? Not practicing with the degree you spent years working toward?”
Shame bubbles in me, hot and painful. She knows exactly where to press so it hurts the most. “I’m going to practice, eventually. But I’m doing this right now.”
“When, though?” Goldie’s voice rises an octave.
“December.” I didn’t mean to tell her—I didn’t mean to tell anyone at all. But all I want is to shut her up. “I booked the exam. But right now I’m taking care of this house and the people in it—including your kid, by the way.”
Goldie doesn’t stop to tell me she’s glad I booked it. She doesn’t compliment me for taking the step she’s been badgering me about for months. She just doubles down, twists the knife. “You do this, Lou. You take care of other people to avoid taking care of yourself. But you need to getyourlife in order.”
Silence falls between us. I feel tears burning behind my eyes, but I never cry in front of Goldie if I can help it. Nothing’s enough for her, especially not me. “Are you done?” I ask softly.
“Yeah.” She throws her hands up. “Great talk, Lou. I’m done.”
I turn toward the sink—look out over the garden at Joss’s new tree—so I don’t have to watch her walk away from me.
“Is everything okay?” Shani comesdownstairs a few minutes after Quinn and Goldie leave, Alfie in her arms. “I thought I heard, um…yelling.”
“I’m so sorry.” I’m wiping down the kitchen counter, and pause to look at her as she comes toward me and takes a seat at the island. “My sister came to pick up Quinn and we tend to be…loud.”
She nods. “I get that. I have three sisters.”
I imagine three Goldies in my life and want to scream. “Do you get along?”
Shani smiles, tilts her head back and forth. “Sometimes.”
I breathe a laugh. “Yeah.” When I reach to pet Alfie’s head, he licks my palm. “How’s he doing?”
“Seems fine,” Shani says, rubbing his chest. “I wanted to thank you, again, for helping us. And letting him stay. I swear I’ll write you the most glowing review.”
“Well, that’s not why I did it,” I tell her, sliding one of Alfie’s velvety ears between my fingers. “But thank you.”
We fall silent for a moment, and then Shani says, “I saw the programs card in my room—with hiking and group discussions and everything? I’m sorry I haven’t filled it out yet.”
“That’s okay,” I say, turning to hang my wet towel over the faucet. “This space is for you; you don’t have to do anything here unless you want to.”
“I do want to. I just—I wasn’t sure if all that stuff was on offer if it’s just me and Nan here?”
“It’s always on offer,” I say, smiling. “Even if you’re the only one here, you can hike or talk with me. But we have a group checking in soon, so you’ll have a bit of overlap then if you’re more comfortable with more people around.”
Shani nods, glancing toward the living room. I get the distinct impression that she’s gathering the courage to say something, and wait until she finds the words.
“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” she says finally. “I swear. But I heard your sister say that, um…” She looks back at me. “You’re not licensed?”
JesusChrist, Goldie. Below the counter, I press my fingernails into my palm. “That’s true,” I say, as evenly as I can. “I’ve completed my counseling degree but haven’t taken my licensing exam yet.”
I wait for Shani to react to this. I know how I phrased the Comeback Inn page: my therapy degree, my years of counseling. It’s all, technically, true—I have nothing to hide. So why do I feel like a filthy liar?
“Makes sense,” Shani says. She rubs Alfie’s head. “Why’s she so mad about it?”
I exhale—Shani’s not bothered. No one else needs to be, either.
“That,” I say slowly, “is such a good question.”
