“That’s disgusting,” I point out to her as we eat. “I’m just not a relationship type of girl.” I shrug as I say it, my stomach clenching.
“You are that type of girl.” She picks up a French fry and points it at me. “You just won’t let yourself be that type of girl.”
“I’m really not. I like to do my own thing and not have to worry about someone else. I spent my whole life worried about someone else,” I mention my stepfather. “I’m over it.”
“It’s not always like that,” she counters, and she, out of anyone in the world, understands.
“My therapist says I have to take things in baby steps.” I hold out both hands. “She should know, she’s qualified to tell me how challenged I am.”
“She said take things in baby steps?” she asks me. “Like snail baby steps or like human baby steps?”
“It’ll happen, I guess, when it’s supposed to happen.”
“It’s not going to knock on your door and be like, ‘Hi, I’m here answering your ad that you placed in the universe.’” She shakes her head. “In order for you to find someone, you have to put yourself out there.”
“Hey, I was on that dating app for a solid six months,” I defend myself, “and what did it get me?” I wait for her to answer. “It got me a man who said he was self-employed.” I look at her. “He literally didn’t know what that meant. He said he was dabbling with a couple of things.” I stop to take another bite of my burger. “And then this guy took me to his house and his mother is sitting on the couch, watching Jeopardy.”
“Houses in California are expensive,” she tries to defend him.
“He was thirty-five,” I shriek, “and he borrowed the car from his mother!”
“I’m sure they are all not like that,” she says softly.
“Nope, they are all like that,” I declare, and she stops asking me questions as we finish eating, knowing this conversation won’t get us anywhere. Getting ready for the actual meeting, I walk over to the bathroom, washing my hands and grab my notes to meet her on the couch. “Okay.” I curl both feet under me. “Let’s get this meeting started.”
“Okay.” She walks out of her office with the same folder she had before.
“Do you want to go first?” I ask her as she sits in one of the chairs facing the couch. She opens her folder.
“Sure,” she starts, “I have a lead on three homeless shelters.” She looks at her notes. “Each of them in not-so-great neighborhoods. They are trying their best, but their resources are slim to nothing.” I shake my head. “I’m going to go and meet with them early next week, if you want to tag along.”
“I can come with you. I’ll make a list of things they need and add it to the list I’ve already started compiling.”
“Good, I don’t want to make any decisions on my own. It’s better if the both of us see what each shelter needs, and then if there is something I didn’t see but you saw, so we can compare notes.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
“I’ve also been thinking of the next fundraiser.” I groan when she says this, and she laughs.
“I know we have barely finished with the first one.”
“Barely finished?” I say sarcastically and hold up my own folder. “It’s still ongoing.”
She laughs. “Okay, okay, fine, but if we are going to rent a venue, we have to start looking now.”
I look up at the ceiling. “Then you should take Kirby and decide that, let me know, and I’ll schedule it in my book.”
“Fine, I’ll drag him along to look for places.” She smiles. “But then you can’t complain when you don’t like it.”
“Deal.” I reach forward to grab my bottle of water and take a sip. “Now, my turn.”
I open the folder and see the sheets of paper from the auction. “All the winners have been notified.” I hand them to her for her to flip through. “The only one who hasn’t gotten back to me yet is Knox.”
She grabs the papers and then flips from one to the other. “He bid on every single item,” she looks up at me and I shrug, “but only won four.”
“Yeah, maybe he was feeling charitable.” I try not to change the tone in my voice. “What’s his story anyway?”
“What do you mean?” she asks me, looking up from the papers.
