Rebound (14 page)

She’s smart and driven, and she thinks almost exclusively of
work.

Well, there you have it.

“Consider this a
graduation of sorts.”

Susan frowned at Dr.
Garvin.

“A promotion!”

This made Susan
smile.

“
You’ve been
coming here...”
Don’t mention the six months again. That just about had her in
tears earlier.
“And you’ve
worked very hard. In fact, I’ve never seen a patient work so hard
to overcome her problems.”

Susan’s smile turned
embarrassed and she blushed, but Dr. Garvin could tell she was
heading down the right path with this.

Cut
her loose already!

“You’ve excelled, and
now I feel you no longer need therapy--of any kind...at all.”

Susan looked at her,
clearly flattered by Dr. Garvin’s words, but still clutching onto
that fear of abandonment. She needed something else, something that
would appeal to Susan’s practical side, and her wild side--if Susan
Rhodes had a wild side.

“And just think, with
all the money you’ll be saving not coming here twice a week, you
could go on a cruise.”

Susan looked down and
shook her head. “I could’ve bought a house for what I’ve paid
you.”

“See? Just think of
all the things you can do once you’re not paying for my services
anymore.”

Susan sighed, still
shaking her head. “A really nice house.”

That stung, and Dr.
Garvin felt like she should be defending herself, that her fees
were reasonable, and her services were well worth the price. But
she remembered her goal for the session--getting rid of Susan
Rhodes. So she smiled, nodding her head in affirmation.

“With a pool, a two
car garage...and a panic room.”

Okay! That was enough
.
“Believe me.
You’re ready for this next step.”

Dr. Garvin stood and
helped Susan out of her seat. Susan was still holding tight to her
leather portfolio case, and she still looked rather pale, but she
had stopped rambling on about the house she could have bought.

“
Just take one
step at a time. First into the calm, peaceful world you’ve created
for yourself.”
And
right out the door.
“Second,
enjoy your new freedom. Not coming here is going to free up a lot
of your time. Just think of what you can do with that!”
And never come
back!
Live out your
boring days far, far away.
Dr.
Garvin wanted to hear real problems. She’d never again take for
granted her manic depressives or her suicidal, bulimic
cheerleaders...not even her middle-aged, depressed housewives. At
least they got drunk, loaded, or boffed the gardener once in a
while.

Dr. Garvin smiled and
nodded as she ushered Susan through her door to the reception area.
“Jean,” she called to her secretary. “Ms. Rhodes won’t need a
follow up appointment.” She turned to Susan. “This really is for
the best. It’s a good, positive step.”

She wanted to slam
the door shut. Lock it. Swallow the goddamn key!

“Goodbye, Dr.
Garvin.” Susan looked lost, standing there in the reception area,
clutching her portfolio case.

“If you have a
problem, don’t hesitate to call,” Dr. Garvin said out of habit,
biting her tongue as she swung the door shut and gave herself a
head slap.

What
happens when Susan Snoring calls up tomorrow begging for another
appointment?

Was Dr. Garvin going
to have to move to outer Mongolia? Australia? New Jersey?

No, she just wouldn’t
return her calls.

Cold. But
effective.

Dr. Garvin slumped
against the cool wood of her office door and stifled a small yet
satisfying laugh. “I never have to see that boring woman
again!”

* * * *

Susan stumbled out
onto the street, her leather portfolio still clutched tightly to
her chest, her body so tense she was sure she’d shatter if someone
bumped her. The busy foot traffic and the low roar and zip of the
passing cars felt like they were smothering her.

What
the hell just happened?

“Susan!” Jill--her
bright, capable, and underpaid assistant--called from the open back
door of a yellow cab. “Susan! Over here.”

Susan adored Jill.
She was always at the office before her, she was cheerful, and
could get anything done for Susan that she asked. She’d even
finagled the Gucci portfolio Susan had in her hands--the one with
her nail marks in it--for cost. Jill had never let Susan down.

And she made the best
freaking coffee in the world.

Susan walked
haltingly toward Jill and the cab. It felt like everything that was
making noise on the street had somehow been sucked into her head,
banging around, echoing, ricocheting off the walls of her skull
like an assassin’s bullet.

Susan stopped short
of the cab door and looked back to the building she’d just exited,
and up five floors to Dr. Garvin’s offices. Did she really just
dump her? What was she supposed to do now? Had it actually been six
months since she’d talked to Kevin?

Jill grabbed Susan by
the wrist and hauled her into the cab, reaching over her to slam
the door shut. “Lexington and twenty-third,” she told the driver.
She turned back to look at Susan. “What’s wrong?”

Susan shook her head.
“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is you
usually look great after a session with Dr. Garvin, but right
now...” She paused, looking like she’d run out of words, and she
sighed and shook her head, her shiny black hair tossing around in
silky ribbons, looking like a shampoo commercial. “You look like
shit.”

“Thanks.” Susan found
herself slumping back against the tattered vinyl seat of the cab,
too exhausted to hold her head up, leaning it back against the
seat. “Anyone ever tell you, you should be a motivational
speaker?”

“No,” Jill said as
she plucked the Gucci portfolio out of Susan’s hands and replaced
it with a Styrofoam cup. “But my guidance counselor in high school
said I’d make a good drill sergeant. That, or a criminal.”

Susan looked up,
shocked. “He didn’t really say that.”

“
She
most certainly did.
Now, drink your high-sugar, high-caffeine, speed-laced
beverage.”

Susan took a sip from
the cup, feeling the sugar and caffeine working on her as it slid
like sunshine down her throat. “Misspent youth?”

Jill was rifling
through the portfolio, sliding extra pages in here and there,
taking out two and setting them aside. The look on her face
darkened as she began to speak. “My physics teacher, Mr. Fantome,
lost my term paper on Wave Particle Duality. And instead of letting
me replace it, he gave me an F.”

Susan pursed her
lips. She had never thought her assistant had taken physics in high
school. She wondered what else she didn’t know about her. “So
you...”

Jill smiled as she
closed the portfolio and twisted the latch. “I dumped a truck full
of manure into his shiny red convertible.”

“Oh!” Susan made a
mental note never to piss her off.

“My parents were
appalled. Would’ve made me get a job to pay to get the car
refurbished, but I was fighting for my academic life thanks to Mr.
Fantome’s little paper management problem.” Jill sighed, a far-off
look on her pretty face. “My guidance counselor thought it was a
scream. Wanted me to go into the FBI, or maybe the Marines. But I
was valedictorian of my class, so I was going to college.”

Susan didn’t remember
seeing a college degree listed on Jill’s résumé. Just a secretarial
diploma and a load of Microsoft training certificates. If it was on
a computer, Jill could make it sing and dance and tell dirty
jokes.

“
What
happened?” And just as those words passed Susan’s lips she
cringed.
Sure, just
slap your perfect assistant in the face while you’re at
it.

The cab got rear
ended by another taxi, making them all jerk forward, and Susan
almost slide right off the vinyl seat.

Jill elbowed the
Plexiglass partition hard and gave the cabby a scalding glare. “If
you even think about stopping I’ll rip your nuts out through your
throat!” Jill reminded Susan of someone. Liz.

Liz would love
her.

Of course, with the
frequency of Liz’s phone calls, she probably had already
interrogated Jill and knew all this. Everything she should’ve
already known about someone who not only balanced her checkbook and
had a key to her apartment, but also scheduled her days and
micromanaged her career.

The driver’s eyes
bugged out and he dumbly shook his head, but he kept the cab moving
along.

Jill handed Susan her
portfolio back and smiled wearily. “The usual happened. I slept
with the salutatorian one night--a pity fuck, because I’d beaten
him by three hundredths of a point--and a month later I found out I
was pregnant. He went to law school, graduates next year--and I got
a quickie secretarial diploma and computer certification.”

“I can’t believe I
didn’t know you have a kid.” Susan slumped even further into her
seat.

Jill stuck her
lip out thoughtfully. “You’ve been busy--at least since I met
you--and with the whole Mark thing--”
God, the Mark thing!
“I can see why you wouldn’t have noticed the pictures
on my desk.”

“
I’m such a
shitty boss.” Susan leaned forward and put her head between her
knees. The cab was getting cramped and hot, and she felt like
passing out.
Note
to self: Be a better boss. I suck.

“Hey, it’s no big
deal. Buy me one of those stupid ‘Best Secretary in the World’
mugs. Or better yet, get me a pair of those new Prada sling-backs.”
Jill noticed everything. “And we’ll call it even.”

Jill hit the power
window button to roll it down. The breeze was welcome, but not
remotely fresh--redolent with smoke and car exhaust, garbage and
five million people’s perfumes, colognes and body odor.

Susan laughed,
feeling her head clear, relieved that she wasn’t alone.
Who needs Dr.
Garvin?
Susan looked down at
her portfolio and remembered the presentation she was heading
for.
The opera
house...

“Get me through this
meeting and I’ll buy them for you, and lunch at Bloomy’s.”

Jill smiled, looking
surprised for about the first time Susan could remember. “No
problemo, boss lady. Just lean back and breathe. I’ll get us there
and you in that conference room.” Jill pulled out her BlackBerry,
checked Susan’s messages, and texted about a thousand character
message with amazing speed. “Not that you need any help once you’re
in there. I’ve never seen anyone take over a room like you.”

“Thanks.”

Jill was stowing her
BlackBerry in her purse when Susan noticed something gleaming on
her ring finger. A simple gold band.

“You’re married too?”
Susan shook her head, slack jawed.

Jill’s eyebrows
knitted, and a puzzled smirk passed over his lips. “Yeah, for
almost eight years now.” She held up her hand, wriggled her
fingers, and smiled, a big, wide, happy grin. “The salutatorian.
Turned out he was in love with me all through high school, and
after a couple months of him being there for me, and alternately
romancing the hell out of me, we got hitched.”

“Wow.” Susan couldn’t
believe it. She knew nothing at all. No wonder she felt like she
didn’t even know who she was anymore. Her life was a sham, and
everything she’d spent that life chasing after was meaningless.
Would it--could it--ever make her happy?

Or was everything in
her life like Mark? Good on paper, until it was time to commit, and
then poof! He was gone.

Susan needed to talk
to Dr. Garvin...but she couldn’t. And she couldn’t lay all this on
Liz. For one thing, she’d been keeping it a secret from Liz. And if
she started talking about one thing, Liz would sniff out what she
was lying about.

But she wasn’t lying.
No. Just keeping things from her. Keeping the truth about Kevin
from her.

“So, the salutatorian
makes you happy?” she said, trying to get the hell out of her own
head.

“
Jason?” Jill
got this wistful gleam in her eyes. “Yep. He’s so sweet and funny,
and he loves me and Emily.”
Her daughter’s name is Emily.
Susan gave herself a mental head slap. Why hadn’t she
asked that? “And though he was lousy that first time in the back
seat of his mom’s Buick, turns out he’s amazing in a
bed.”

Susan’s mouth dropped
open, and both women broke out in raucous, full throated laughter.
Susan began to relax, and she started to feel like herself
again.

Whoever’s going after that o
pera h
ouse account better watch out
, because here I come!
Susan held her belly as she and Jill giggled down
Lexington Avenue in the back of the taxi.

Chapter 11

The opera house
committee was meeting on the top floor of One Police Plaza. The
city council had long ago abandoned the ancient and decrepit
building it had occupied since the eighteen hundreds, having
commandeered the top floor of the new police tower. And though it
was only ten stories tall, every single member of the council
called it a skyscraper, even though Chicago had more than enough of
those to go around.

Susan liked the cool
simplicity of the tower’s design. Smooth and clean, and faceted
like a jewel, it was what modern buildings should all look like.
But there was a part of Susan that wouldn’t want to live somewhere
like that. Sure, working in a great big, shiny steel and glass
building would be wonderful, and impressive--especially if someday
that building was, in fact, one of her own designs. But to live
there...