It’s six thirty Central Time, and I’m not sure if I can risk it yet. Oh well. I pull on some shorts and drag myself outside to the dilapidated deck in the slick morning dew, careful to avoid splinters while I look for a dry place to sit.
“Why are you awake?” she answers without any greeting.
“I need your help.”
“Have you been kidnapped? Tell me your current favorite female pop singer if you’re in danger.” She says.
“I don’t like any of them.”
“Phew. Glad you’re safe. Now why are you calling me at the butt-crack of dawn?”
“Because I know you have opinions about Nathan, beyond your preference for DC. You’ve been holding back. Let it rip, then I’ll tell you more.”
“Gettin’ coffee. Gimme the more part first.”
“I’ll throw you a bone, but I want your unfiltered opinion.”
“Gimme something,” she says between slurps.
“It’s over with Nathan. It’s been over.”
“Ya think?!”
“I could call Jace if I wanted commentary, you know. I called for the opinion of my therapist.”
“Oh.Ohhh. Wow, Lu Lu. Okay. Chuggin’ a Diet Coke while I make coffee. You’re lucky I wake up more alert than you do.”
“I know. I appreciate it.”
“Okay. Deep breath. I can do this.”
“Annie, it’s just me. Why is it hard?”
“You’re kinda intimidating, and I have to tell you hard stuff.”
“How am I intimidating? I’m a freaking mess.”
“Yes and no. That’s why it’s hard.”
“Just lay it on me. This is your moment. I promise I won’t get mad.”
“Are you sure?” she asks between slurps. “Because I’ve kept my mouth on lockdown and you still know what I think.”
“I promise.”
“Do you remember studying personality disorders? Cluster B, in particular.”
“I think so.” Okay, I didn’t see this coming.
“I got narcissistic vibes, and I thought you would’ve by now too. I think you missed it because of how you grew up.”
“Annie, where’d your accent go?”
“This is Future Licensed Professional Counselor Annie, but don’t change the subject or I’ll lose my nerve.”
I bust out a laugh despite the ninety-nine-miles-per-hour fastball she just threw at me. Recalling what I’ve studied about personality disorders—if I want to dispute her, my case is weak.
“Listen,” she continues, “I can’t diagnose him, but dude’s got more red flags than an amusement park, and you hate roller coasters. He makes fun of your interests and your clothes because he needs to lower your confidence, which is hit-and-miss already. People who love you don’t do that.”
