The silence dragged out while she strategically waited for me to come up with my own goal. I stared back. We werein an official stare-off. Who would get so uncomfortable that they’d look away first?
I crossed my arms over my chest, leaned back against the couch, and kicked my cowboy boots onto her table, edging the box of tissues to the very edge.Dangerouslyclose to teetering off.
She heaved a sigh with a roll of her eyes that was so dramatic I was surprised they didn’t roll right onto the floor.
“Fine…” she said as she stomped over and replaced the tissues to the perfect ninety-degree angle that they had been, then stomped back to the board.
I won.
“Goal number three.” Her eyes narrowed with a mischievous warning. “You destroyed my office, then you replaced everything with equipment five times its value, then showed up exactly two minutes after it was delivered—just enough time for me to see what was inside each box. This tells me you personally arranged the delivery and worked it into your schedule, oh, and, you had to arrange some sort of transportation to get it all set up for me—and just in time to sneak out at exactly five o’clock. Yet, after all this effort, you never actuallyverbalizedyour apology. You never—not once—said the words, ‘I’m sorry.’”
I squeezed my arms tighter around my chest.
“This tells me you have trouble with communication?—”
My feet hit the floor. “I donot?—”
She held up her hand. “I don’t mean that you physically have trouble forming words and sentences. I mean,emotionally.You have trouble expressing your emotions. Talking things out. Addressing anything that might involve the slightest feeling. So, Phoenix, goal number three is going to be your biggest challenge. Number three is going to be foryou to open up to me. This is very important. You can’t go through life?—”
I leaned forward and slid my forearms onto my knees. “I’ve got your number three, Dr. Flower…”
She stopped mid-sentence.
“… To relax.”
Her chin jerked back.“Relax?”
“Yep. Loosen up.” I nodded to her desk. “To not have to have everything on your desk at perfect, ninety degree angles. Not to have the pictures that line your walls exactly six inches apart. Six because it’s an even number that you can split down the middle. Because five is odd—three on one side and two on the other—and well, that just doesn’t sit well with you does it?”
Her gaze shifted to her wall of accolades, then back to me. She blinked.
I continued. “Some people might think your desk is placed at an odd angle. No, not to you. Your desk has been set up where neither the morning sun, or late afternoon sun would reflect in your monitors. That plant you have in the corner? Pruned to perfection with exactly ten elephant ears. Ten, because five and five. Your books? At first I was going to say alphabetized, but nope, you’ve got them lined up according to ISBN number. Nowthat’simpressive. Your post-its, color-coordinated and spaced exactly an inch apart. The floor, top of your file cabinet, desk, windowsills, not a speck of dirt. You, Rose, are what some might call a total control freak, and if I had to guess, you’ve got a hefty dose of OCD. There’s your diagnosis, Doc… but the question is, why? What’s the root of all this?”
She stood frozen, staring at me.
I grinned. “So, Miss Flower, goal number three for you istorelinquishcontrol. To recognize that it’s okay not to be perfect. To loosen up.”
Her eyelids fluttered as if coming back to life after a stun gun. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and gave me the full weight of her disapproval—cool and clinical from behind long lashes. Then, with a dramatic pivot that somehow managed to look both annoyed and elegant, she turned to the whiteboard and began writing.
“Goal number three for me: Accept chaos.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, as thick as the strokes of her marker.
I pushed off the couch, crossed the room, and gently pulled the marker from her hand.
Without asking.
She didn’t stop me.
I erased ‘Accept chaos’ and wroteLoosen upin its place, scrawling it neatly beside her #3.
Then I added a #4.
To both of our lists.
Beside each, I wrote:Don’t deflect.
We stood there, together, staring at our weakness spelled out right there on the board in front of us.
She exhaled, looked at me, and I’ll be damned if a smile didn’t cross her face.
