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“THANK YOU SO MUCH DR. Ballard!” said Mrs. Williamson. “I really don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Not a doctor, and it’s my pleasure,” said Bethany.
“Well Doctor or no, you’re a treasure.” Mrs. Williamson began to walk off.
“Oh! Erm... I hate to be this way, buuuut....” said Bethany awkwardly
“Oh! Right, of course.” Mrs. Williamson pulled out her checkbook. “Do you have a pen?”
“Always,” said Bethany, reaching behind her ear and handing it over.
Leaning on Bethany’s mailbox, Mrs. Williamson scribbled out a check for three hundred dollars. “Here honey!” she said. “See you same time next week!”
“Adieu,” said Bethany. Mrs. Williamson drove off.
“I see you’re handling yourself well,” said Colleen, who had stepped outside, cigarette in one hand and cosmo in the other. She dragged from her cigarette then took a sip from the glass, smoke rising from her nostrils as she swallowed the deliciously toxic concoction. Bethany sighed. While Colleen’s drinking did not make her uncomfortable per se, she had grown up in an environment in which drinking was all but nonexistent. So to suddenly be friends with what Bethany decided to loosely consider a “functional alcoholic” definitely gave her pause. She addressed her gardener for a moment. “Fernando, please refrain from drowning my chrysanthemums.”
“Apologies Ms. Blackwood. But you see, it hasn’t rained for days, and it’s unusually hot, so—”
“Just because a man is dying of thirst does not mean that he could breathe underwater,” Colleen interrupted. “So please be delicate. And while we’re at it, you seem to be ignoring the pansies. Do please divide and conquer, good sir.”
“As you say, ma’am,” said Fernando, rolling his eyes the moment Colleen looked away.
Colleen refocused on Bethany. “Well? What was Rita going on about this week?”
Bethany grimaced. “Doctor-patient confidentiality. Sorry!”
“But didn’t you just say you weren’t a doctor?”
“You have good ears,” laughed Bethany. “But don’t split hairs.”
Colleen shrugged. “Well given that I got you most of your clients I felt compelled to track their progress.”
“They are progressing spectacularly. Thank you so much for asking!” said Bethany, clear sass in her voice and her eyes twinkled at Colleen. In truth, she was quite grateful for her nosey neighbor. Colleen’s circle of friends (and in turn friends of her friends) were all wealthy enough such that they didn’t question Bethany’s admittedly inflated rate of three hundred dollars a session.
In truth, Bethany suspected that Colleen could probably desperately use a cognitive behavioral therapist of her own, but she wasn’t about to suggest it. While the woman had an antiquated snobbery about her, she also made Bethany feel quite welcome. She just had an odd way of communicating it.
“Anyway, that was my last session for today,” said Bethany.
“Oh? So early?” inquired Colleen.
Bethany raised her hands in a shrug. “Both my 4:00 and 5:00s canceled.” She smirked. “Between you and me, the 4:00 didn’t cancel until this morning, so they’re still going to pay for it.”
Colleen made a face that Bethany had come to recognize as the closest the woman ever came to smiling. “I admire your tenacity, Bethany. It’s quite becoming, especially of somebody your age
“That means a lot,” said Bethany. “That said, now I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the remainder of my afternoon.” She turned to head back inside.
“Bethany,” said Colleen quickly.
“Yes?”
“Do you golf?”
“Uh, sort of “I’ve done so with my father a few times, and I’m not the worst. Maybe second-worst?”
“I haven’t played in quite some time. But as Fernando was saying, the weather has been uncharacteristically nice. I was wondering if you would like to join me?”
Bethany beamed. “I would love to! Oh shoot, I don’t think I brought my clubs with me from Utah. That was pretty dumb, huh?”
"Well as it happens I have a perfectly good set of clubs that are of no use to me," said Colleen.
“How’s that?” asked Bethany.
“I’m left-handed. A well-meaning friend once got me a set for my birthday but it was for righty golfers.”
“You’re looking pretty ambidextrous right now,” teased Bethany, gesturing to Colleen’s cigarette and cosmo.
“Don’t be absurd,” said Colleen. “I drink with my left hand so that I still have my right hand available to do other things.”
“Like... smoke?”
Colleen rolled her eyes. “If I so choose to, I could put the cigarette in my mouth and still have this hand available,” she said. “My gosh, it’s like you’ve never had a drink before!”
“I haven’t, remember?” pointed out Bethany.
Colleen sighed. “One of these nights I’m going to have to insist that you live up to the LDS initials.”
“Pretty sure that by not drinking I’m definitely sticking to the Latter Day Saint schtick,” she said.
“What? I thought it meant ‘let’s drink scotch,’ does it not?” asked Colleen.
Bethany cracked up, and even Colleen briefly chuckled at her own joke.
“Well this former missionary needs to go get changed before heading out with you,” said Bethany. “Be out in a few!”
“I need to change as well,” said Colleen. They returned to their separate homes.
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