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Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 96 из 138And all I can do is wonder, Can I really handle this?
Can I get on with my life, such as it is?
Damn it, I’m going to try. With a little help from my friends.
Beth and Connie conference call me on my cell phone minutes after I drop off Dakota and Sean at school. They want to take me to lunch and won’t take no for an answer.
Of course, what they really want to do is see if I’m okay or completely mashed potatoes. The social worker in Connie undoubtedly has her hyperconcerned after my surprise sleepover-cum-meltdown at her apartment. Naturally, Beth heard all about it.
Imagine if I tell them everything that’s occurred since.
Only that’s not going to happen.
That monster Delmonico has me scared silent. About everything. I can still feel his grip on my neck, the look in his eyes.
Anyway, it’s with an “all’s well” attitude that I walk into the Comfort Diner – how fitting – on 45th Street between Second and Third. Connie and Beth are already seated at a table by the window, and I make sure to greet them with a healthy smile.
Unfortunately, the rest of my body didn’t get the memo.
“You look like shit, Kris,” says Beth almost immediately.
Connie rolls her eyes while I enjoy a much-needed laugh. There’s blunt, and then there’s Beth. No wonder she has such a hard time finding acting work. She once told Martin Scorsese that he needed to “trim those caterpillars” above his eyes.
“You do look a bit tired, Kristin,” says Connie, trying to be a little more diplomatic and gentle. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”
“I certainly got plenty at your place the other night,” I say.
“Until you woke up screaming like my apartment was in a wing at Bellevue,” she points out.
As if I need to be reminded.
“Have you been to see a doctor?” asks Beth. “Maybe you’ve got a virus.”
“And what about seeing your psychiatrist again?” says Connie in tow. “Have you given that any more thought?”
Call me crazy, but I think I’m done with psychiatrists.
I look at the two of them, their faces full of genuine concern. “Listen, I know you guys are trying to help and I appreciate it, I really do. But right now, the best thing for me is to have a fun lunch with my girlfriends. Can we do that? You think?”
They both nod, getting the point. I need to be distracted, not prodded. So they dig deep into their daily lives and share the best stories they can think of.
Connie kicks things off by telling us about the guy from her office who got caught making photocopies of his penis.
Can I get on with my life, such as it is?
Damn it, I’m going to try. With a little help from my friends.
Beth and Connie conference call me on my cell phone minutes after I drop off Dakota and Sean at school. They want to take me to lunch and won’t take no for an answer.
Of course, what they really want to do is see if I’m okay or completely mashed potatoes. The social worker in Connie undoubtedly has her hyperconcerned after my surprise sleepover-cum-meltdown at her apartment. Naturally, Beth heard all about it.
Imagine if I tell them everything that’s occurred since.
Only that’s not going to happen.
That monster Delmonico has me scared silent. About everything. I can still feel his grip on my neck, the look in his eyes.
Anyway, it’s with an “all’s well” attitude that I walk into the Comfort Diner – how fitting – on 45th Street between Second and Third. Connie and Beth are already seated at a table by the window, and I make sure to greet them with a healthy smile.
Unfortunately, the rest of my body didn’t get the memo.
“You look like shit, Kris,” says Beth almost immediately.
Connie rolls her eyes while I enjoy a much-needed laugh. There’s blunt, and then there’s Beth. No wonder she has such a hard time finding acting work. She once told Martin Scorsese that he needed to “trim those caterpillars” above his eyes.
“You do look a bit tired, Kristin,” says Connie, trying to be a little more diplomatic and gentle. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”
“I certainly got plenty at your place the other night,” I say.
“Until you woke up screaming like my apartment was in a wing at Bellevue,” she points out.
As if I need to be reminded.
“Have you been to see a doctor?” asks Beth. “Maybe you’ve got a virus.”
“And what about seeing your psychiatrist again?” says Connie in tow. “Have you given that any more thought?”
Call me crazy, but I think I’m done with psychiatrists.
I look at the two of them, their faces full of genuine concern. “Listen, I know you guys are trying to help and I appreciate it, I really do. But right now, the best thing for me is to have a fun lunch with my girlfriends. Can we do that? You think?”
They both nod, getting the point. I need to be distracted, not prodded. So they dig deep into their daily lives and share the best stories they can think of.
Connie kicks things off by telling us about the guy from her office who got caught making photocopies of his penis.