“Sure.”
She launched into a long, droning speech about stupid girlfriends getting on her case, stupid ex-boyfriends foolish enough to think they were still in her good graces, stupid teachers who didn’t know anything more than the students, stupid parties, a stupid world.
Talking nonstop in the flat tones of a rehearsed witness, looking everywhere but at me.
When she was through I said, “So everyone’s getting on your nerves.”
“You’ve got that right. . . . How much longer now?”
“Twenty-five minutes.”
“Shit. That much? You should have a clock up there. So people can keep track.”
“Usually people don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“They don’t want to be distracted.”
She favored me with a bitter smile, scooted forward on the chair. “Well, I want to leave early. Okay? Just today. Please. I’ve got some people waiting for me, and I need to get home by five-thirty or Jane and Lyle’re gonna freak out.”
“People waiting for what?”
“Fun.”
“Friends are picking you up.”
She nodded.
“Where?”
“I told them to meet me a block from here. So can I^o?”
“Lauren, I’m not forcing you—”
“But if I split early you’ll fink, right?”
“Look,” I said, “it’s a matter of twenty minutes. As long as you’re here, why not make good use of the time?”
I expected protest, but she sat there, pouting. “That’s not fair. I told you everything. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“I’m not saying there is, Lauren.”
“So what’s the point?”
“I’d like to learn more about you—”
“I’m not worth learning about, okay? My life’s boring, I already told you that.” She ran her hands over her torso. “This is it, all of me, nothing exciting.”
I let several seconds pass. “Lauren, is everything really going as well as it could for you?”
She studied me from under grainy, black lashes, reached into the purse again, and extricated a pack of Virginia Slims.
When she produced a lighter, I shook my head.
“Oh, c’mon.”
“Sorry.”
“How can you do that? People coming here all stressed out. Don’t they complain—wasn’t Jane climbing the walls? She’s a chimney.”
“Mostly I see kids and teens,” I said. “People manage.”
“Kids and teens.” She gave a short, cold laugh. “Every teen I know smokes. Are you allergic or something?”
“Some of my patients are.”
“So why does everyone have to suffer because of a few? That’s not democracy.”
“It’s consideration,” I said.
“Fine.” She jammed the pack back into the purse. “How much time left now?”
2
THE SECOND TIME she was twenty minutes late, hurried into the office muttering what might have been an apology.
Same getup, different color scheme: black tank top, sunburn pink shorts, lips coarsened by bright red paste.
Same precarious sandals and cheap little purse. She reeked of tobacco and a rose-heavy perfume. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was mussed.
She took a long time settling in the chair, finally said, “Got hung up.”
“You and your friends?”
“Yeah.” Hair flip. “Sorry.”
“Hung up where?”
“Around … the pier.”
“Santa Monica?” I said.
“We like the beach.” She massaged one bare, bronze shoulder.
“Nice sunny day,” I said, smiling. “Classes must have let out early.”
Sudden, bright laughter tumbled from between the crimson lips. “Right.”
“School’s a drag, huh?”
“School would have to be on uppers to be a drag.” She produced the cigarette pack, bounced it on a shiny knee. “When I was little they tested my IQ. I’m supposed to be supersmart. They say I should be studying more, say I’m smart enough to know it’s a waste of time.”
“No interest in any subject?” I said.
“Nutrition—love that garlic bread. Is today when we talk about sex?”
That caught me off guard. “I don’t recall our scheduling that.”
“They scheduled it. I’ve been instructed to talk to you about it.”
“By your parents?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“It’s mostly Lyle’s idea. He’s positive I’m doing the dirty, gonna get pregnant, stick him with a ‘little nigger grandkid.’ Like if I was, talking to you about it would help. Like just because I don’t talk to them, I’m going to throw up my insides to some outsider.”
“Sometimes talking to an outsider can be safer.”