Tori pushed the box of tissues toward her. By now she knew the signs of someone fighting back tears.
The woman took a tissue and exhaled loudly. “I saw that I had gained almost two pounds. Yes, it was probably water weight. But I cursed. Out loud. Really loud. I didn’t know she was in the hall bathroom. She pushed open the bedroom door and saw me there, naked on the scale.”
After waiting a few seconds for her to continue, Tori asked, “And?”
“She had this look of pure disgust on her face. She said, ‘Mom, didn’t you already weigh yourself this morning?’”
“And how did you handle that?”
“I yelled at her. Something like,Ever heard of knocking?Something my own mother would have yelled at me. But later, when she was out with her friends, I found her diary and she’s been weighing herself too. She’s keeping track. Not just of her weight but of caloric intake. It’s my teenage years all over again.”
“No, these areherteenage years. That’s an important distinction to make. She’s not you.”
“And now she’s obsessed with this guy in school. A senior. He’s rich, popular, goes through girls like tissues. You know the type.”
“It’s good she’s sharing this with you.”
“Ha.” The laugh came out sharp. “I read it in her journal. She doesn’t tell me anything. But I know this boy. He’s the brother of this popular girl who’s basically been torturing my daughter since the fourth grade. A real frenemy type.”
Tori shifted in her seat. “That’s disturbing.”
“Oh, she’s awful. A mini version of her mother—a real bitch. This girl’s known to befriend girls just so she canintroducethem to her brother, if you get my drift. And all of a sudden she has her sights set on my daughter. It’s like watching a slow-motion train wreck. But what can I do? I can’t stop them from becoming friends, can I? I can’t tell her that she can’t be friendswith this little bitch. My daughter’s not savvy enough to handle girls like that. Trust me, something similar happened to me in eleventh grade.”
“Let’s push back on those assumptions for a minute, okay?” Tori saw some version of this several times a week—mothers so gripped by fear their children would become warped and damaged just the way they had that they overinvolved themselves in their kids’ lives. It was how they justified their hovering and interference.
“I’ve been trying to push back,” her patient said. “I’ve been writing in my gratitude journal, trying to focus on what’s real and not on what could go wrong. But Eloïse’s invited her to sleep over this weekend, and of course, Van—that’s the brother—will be there. Do I forbid her from going?”
Tori froze.Van. Eloïse.It couldn’t be a coincidence. Not those names. This woman had to be talking about the Allard kids. “Umm…”
“Well?” The woman glanced at the clock. Time was up. “Tell me what to do. A bunch of girls are going. She’ll be devastated if I don’t let her. I kind of already said yes.”
“Let her go. But talk to her first. This is a good opportunity to discuss boundaries.”
The woman nodded, satisfied, and stood up. “All right,” she said.
Tori stood up too, hoping to prolong the conversation for just a minute more. “Is it possible you could have a conversation with the mother? Feel things out?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Believe me, if it wereany other mom. But this woman? She’s a real piece of work. I could tell you stories.”
“Yes?” She knew she sounded too eager, but she couldn’t help herself.
The woman frowned. “Don’t you have another patient?”
“Of course.” Tori nodded, chastened. “I’ll see you next week.”
After her patient left the room, Tori could barely sit still in her chair. She knew she was skating very close to the edge of her professional ethics. She should have veered away from the discussion of her landlords, not pursued it. But she was enthralled. The quiet curiosity she’d had about her neighbors now felt urgent. This new information brought them into relief, and it only made her want to know more.
Since she’d moved in, she had watched from her back window, with equal parts jealousy and longing, the domestic scene playing out at the Allard house. In a way, she wanted to beeachof the Allards. Not just Jo, the beautiful wife who didn’t work, who had hired help to take care of every mundane task. But also Daniel, with his confidence and European taste—wine on the table every night, strains of classical music carrying across the lawn. Perhaps she was most jealous of Eloïse and Van—of their youth, their good looks and athleticism—and the way their parents seemed to clear any obstacles in their paths, obliterating even the tiniest bumps in the road. What privileged lives they had. Did they even know?
She jotted down the basics of what she had just learned on a yellow pad—Van goes through girls like tissues, Eloïse a mini version of her mother—a real bitch.
She underlineda real bitchthree times. She’d be sure to revisit this next week. Try to get as many details as possible. It helped even the score a little in her mind. Sure, she was just a renter who depended on her ex to pay the bills. But maybe her neighbors weren’t so perfect after all.
She closed her agenda and gathered her things. She hadn’t been truthful with her patient. The mom had been her last of the day. Normally on Wednesdays, when Leo was at his dad’s, her mind would spiral with anxiety. But not today. Today her brain had a new chew toy—the Allards. The family was like one of those apples you buy at the grocery store that’s seemingly perfect, but when you bite into the shiny, red skin your teeth sink into a mealy rotten mess.
Autumn was gone by the time she got home, no doubt doing something fun on her night off.
Inside the empty house, Tori poured herself a beer and turned on the radio just to have human voices in the house. As she heated the frozen orange chicken from Trader Joe’s, she had to stop herself several times from leaving the kitchen to check on Leo. He was not here. He was not napping in his big boy bed, or watchingBlueyin the living room, or playing with Magna-Tiles. He was at his dad’s and she was alone.
