She was an intimidating girl on an ordinary day, but sitting there in Jessica’s office, legs crossed, uniform skirt hiked, she looked positively frightening.
“Sooooooooo,” she said, long and slow. “How ya doin’?”
Jessica held her writing pad in her lap, squeezing the edges. This was their first session since Ryan’s kitchen. She’d been dreading this. It was going to be awkward, obviously; the entire situation was endlessly embarrassing. But more than that she dreaded what she knew she was going to have to do.
She’d played their moment at Ryan’s house over and over in her head. Scarlett standing there in her underwear. Ryan and Darnell frozen to the point of utter stillness, like the dug-up remains of some ancient people wiped out by sudden plumes of volcanic ash.
Jessica cleared her throat. She picked up her pen and then set it back down on her pad. “Scarlett,” she said.
“At first, I seriously thought I was hallucinating,” said Scarlett. “I was like, am I dreaming this? Did Darnell drug me or something?”
“Scarlett,” she said again.
“So, you and Ryan? You’re doing it? He’s like, what, your side piece? How did that even happen?”
“Scarlett, this is a very unusual situation.”
She snorted. “Ya think?”
“Yes, I do.”
“It’s actually kinda funny, you know, from my perspective, if you think about it. The tables have turned pretty hard here, Doc. I mean, we have you slut-shaming me nonstop for, what, like ten months? Like some kinda nun in a convent. And then I find you with JBF hair at my boyfriend’s house. You gotta admit, it’s pretty validating.”
“I haven’t been slut-shaming you,” said Jessica. “Scarlett, is that honestly what you think I’ve been doing?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t blame you. God, look at the guy. I mean, how could you say no to something like that? Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Hashtag I Want It Too, right? Like we said.”
“It’s not like that,” she said. “It’s not what you think.”
“It is a little sad, though. Mr. Butler and all. I feel bad for him. He’s, like, the only teacher in the whole school that doesn’t make me wanna gouge my eyeballs out from boredom. This oblivious guy, going about his daily English-teacher life, while his wife gets raw-dogged by, like, the hottest guy ever. What if he finds out?”
Jessica gripped the arm of her chair. She imagined Scarlett raising her hand in Mitch’s class. Mr. Butler, I don’t really have a question. It’s…more of a comment.
Scarlett read her perfectly. “Relax. That’s not what I meant. I’m not, like, gonna tell him. This is…this is your shit. He doesn’t have to know. None of my business.”
Jessica didn’t relax, though, and she was fairly certain she never would. Information was like a virus, and this girl was patient zero, wandering carelessly through Smalltimore, talking to everyone she saw.
“So anyway,” said Scarlett. “What’s Ryan like? Is he sweet? I always imagined the two of them running this game, like, two hot guys with a revolving door of vag parading in and out, all day and all night. But I think they’re both a lot more down-to-earth than that, you know. Surprisingly.”
“Scarlett, listen to me,” she said. “In therapy—in this business—for things to work, there need to be boundaries.”
“We’re talking about boundaries again? Come on. I think we’re well past—”
“You’re absolutely right,” said Jessica. “Well, well past boundaries. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. There’s a reason I don’t talk about Mr. Butler in here. Or my children. Or…well, anything, really. My private life. Because if you know too much about me and my life, it compromises us. And you and I having connections, links to each other outside of our working relationship, also compromises us.”
Scarlett’s smile faded for the first time since she sat down. “What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying that, in light of recent events—”
“Are you dumping me?”
“No. It’s not like that. This isn’t something you should take personally. I’ve made a list for you. Some really good therapists that I think you’ll—”
“But you’re my therapist.”
“Scarlett.”
“You’re the fucking voice in my head. Who’s gonna tell me when I’m being a fucking idiot?”
“Well, in fairness, Scarlett, you rarely seem to listen to that voice.”
“Yeah, but I like that it’s there.”
Jessica wasn’t expecting this. This sullen, infuriating girl looked genuinely hurt. Worse, for the first time since Scarlett became her patient, she looked like the kid that she actually was. “I’m touched that our time together has meant something to you. I’ve also enjoyed having you as—”
“Can’t we just, like, erase it? The other night? You saw me in my undies. I saw you with some guy. No biggie. That’s life.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. You can’t just pretend something didn’t happen.”
Fuck, Jessica thought. She was doing it again. The patient as mirror. The night before, she and Mitch had made fajitas. The night before that, they’d played Connect Four with the kids. They’d ordered a new bed online. They’d pretended nothing had happened.
Honey, use your napkin.
Pass the shredded cheese, please.
Should we stick with a queen, or should we try a king?
“So, that’s it?” Scarlett said. “You can’t keep it in your pants, so I get screwed? I get ditched? Like, what, disposable fucking Scarlett, as usual.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this. You didn’t do anything to deserve this.”
“You know what?” Scarlett said. “Maybe I was wrong before. Maybe Mr. Butler does need to know about this. I mean, it’d be kind of a dick move on my part to just sit there in his class talking about plays and shit while you’re off—”
“Scarlett,” Jessica said.
“What?”
“He knows.”
“What?”
“Mitch knows.”
“He knows? Like, knows knows?”
“Yeah.”
As Jessica said this, it didn’t feel like a lie. And, in some ways, it wasn’t. It was more complicated than simple truth or untruth.
“Goddamn,” said Scarlett. “What the fuck’s wrong with you people?”