she’s actually glad to hear from me as though I was a friend
and not an annoying client who is probably ruining her life.
“Adley…” My tongue immediately turns into a lead
weight in my mouth. It’s almost impossible to swallow around
it and words aren’t going to be happening anytime soon.
“Hey. Is everything okay? It’s kind of late. Not late,
late, but late enough. Is there something you wanted to talk
about? Are you okay?”
Am I okay? No. No, I don’t think that I am, but I can
hardly say that. People aren’t honest when asked if they’re
okay. They give the token response every single time because
that’s what people expect, and honesty in that case is a social
faux pas.
“I was wondering if you could come over. To my
house.”
“To your house?” Adley’s confused tone floods my ear.
I can hear the hesitation crackling in her tone.
“I know it’s not a normal request, but I swear I won’t
murder you or anything.”
“I know you won’t murder me. I wasn’t thinking about
that. Jesus Murphy.”
It’s a funny expression. An old one. One I haven’t
heard in ages. Somehow Adley using it makes me smile. Helps
me relax just enough that I can squeeze a breath in and a few
words out.
>
“I have something I need to tell you. Discuss. Uh, I
need to explain why I can’t continue with this. I’ve decided.”
“You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe me
anything. Really. It’s not a problem. I’ll just close out your