Part 8 (2/2)
”Usually that's true, but that jacket belongs with jeans and UGGs, not slacks and heels. You look like Cloris Leachman, or Maude, or one of those women.”
”Really?” No wonder Blake had been looking at her that way. And there she was, feeling so confident in just another old-lady outfit.
Kaylie took Danica's hand and dragged her toward the stairs. ”Come on, sis. I've been dying to give you a makeover for years.” Kaylie ran up the stairs like a teenager ready to trade secrets.
Danica followed behind, sighing along the way.
Upstairs, in Danica's room, Kaylie pa.s.sed the bed and said, ”No Twizzlers?”
”A whole drawer full, unfortunately,” Danica joked.
Kaylie rummaged through Danica's closet, pulling s.h.i.+rts and blouses down and tossing them at her. ”Put these on the bed.”
Danica sifted through the mismatched jackets, jeans, leggings, and s.h.i.+rts. She sat on the bed and watched Kaylie move from the closet to the dresser, weeding through Danica's jewelry and laying out necklaces and earrings across the top. She pulled open Danica's top drawer.
”Hey, no need to go in there,” Danica said.
”Are you kidding me?” Kaylie dug through Danica's lingerie, withdrawing the laciest-and the most uncomfortable-bras and panties that Danica owned.
Danica watched, shaking her head.
”Never in your life have you let me help you with this,” Kaylie said with her back to Danica.
”Well, maybe change is good.”
Kaylie turned around. ”Yeah, maybe it is.” She came and sat down next to Danica. They both faced the mirror above the dresser. ”Why do I do it?”
Danica tilted her head. ”Because you love clothes and I have a very tenuous relations.h.i.+p with them.”
”No, I don't mean that. I mean with guys. Chaz is so nice. He's really good to me, and he's definitely hot. So, why do I, you know, try to get other guys when I'm happy?”
Danica knew better than to answer.
”Come on. You're a therapist. Can't you help me?” Kaylie pleaded.
They stared at each other through their reflections. Danica leaned her head on Kaylie's. ”You don't want my help, Kaylie.”
”Maybe you're right,” Kaylie said. ”But I get it, you know? I know you think there's something wrong with what I'm doing.”
”I don't judge you. I love you,” Danica answered.
”Thank G.o.d someone does.” Kaylie jumped up and began putting together outfits.
Danica's heart broke with the realization she so often had-that everyone carries baggage. Some people's was just lighter than others'.
Chapter Seventeen.
Blake sat in his car in front of the funeral home, watching a drizzle of freezing rain cut through the dense fog. People filed into the low, brick building, heads down, umbrellas perched like s.h.i.+elds. Nothing could s.h.i.+eld Blake from the sting of the hours to come. Loneliness settled in around him. He'd be the only person walking in alone, which up until that very moment had never bothered him. He took pride in the way he could own an entrance. His looks and his confidence had served him well, but now there was nothing he'd like more than to be invisible.
When his cell phone rang, he stared at the number. Danica Snow. He picked it up, his voice tethered by sadness. ”h.e.l.lo?”
”Blake?”
”Yes, hi, Danica...um...Dr. Snow?” What an idiot. What was the protocol?
”Danica is fine. I'm looking over my schedule for next week and realized that you hadn't confirmed our Monday appointment. Rather than fill that slot, I thought I'd see if you were planning on coming in.” The professionalism in her voice left no room for a.s.sumptions about her phone call.
”Yes, please.”
”Okay. Would you like me to hold every Monday? Same time?”
Blake realized his disregard for her schedule and pulled himself out of his discomfort enough to apologize.
”It's not a problem this time, but if you could either set a day and time or let me know by Wednesday each week for the following week, that would be helpful.”
Blake sighed. He'd f.u.c.ked up again. When was he going to get his act together? ”I'm sorry, Danica. Yes, please, every Monday would be great. Do you have time now, to talk, I mean?”
An uncomfortable silence pa.s.sed between them, and Blake took the hint. ”I don't mean personally. I'm outside of Dave's funeral. It's starting in ten minutes, and I'm not sure how...what to do. I'm uncomfortable.”
”I can spare ten minutes. I'll just add the time to your next bill.”
There it was. All business. ”Thank you.” Suddenly, Blake didn't feel so alone.
”Do you have a friend with you?” Danica asked. ”Someone to walk in with?”
”Nope. Just me.”
”Okay, well, remember, you are doing this because Dave was a friend, so this is not really about you. You are doing this for closure, but really, funerals are for showing support to the family.”
”I never thought of it like that.”
”I know. Most people are too absorbed with their own feelings or discomfort to look beyond, to the loved ones who were left behind.”
Blake pictured Danica sitting behind her desk, pen in hand, her eyes full of compa.s.sion.
”Sally and Rusty will be happy you are there. You were his business partner, his friend. Even if you are grappling with that friends.h.i.+p, they need you there. You should be there, to honor and remember Dave.”
Blake looked out the window at a young couple walking in. The man had his arm around the woman's shoulders, pressing her tight against him underneath the umbrella. He wondered if they felt as uncomfortable as he did. ”Right. What does that mean exactly? What do I do? I'm not good at these things. I'm better in a bar.” He mustered a little laugh.
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