I Like You Just Fine When You're Not Around by Ann Garvin

voice directed to the microphone she said, “That’s right; Tuesday at two P.M . is our soonest appointment.” She held up a finger to Tig and continued, “Well, you get back to me. I’ve got an emergency on line two. I have to go now.” She punched the disconnect button, and said, “You look tired, Dr. M. You doing okay?”
    “I don’t know what to do with myself. I went to see my mom and then I made a lot of appointments for things I haven’t had much chance to get to. You know, dentist, hair removal of all forms, a personal trainer session, a mammogram. I tried to get a colonoscopy, too, but I’m too young, apparently. I’m sure I’ll cancel most of them. Self-care is not my forte.”
    “Wow. So, that’s a lot of stuff.”
    “I need to keep busy.”
    Macie lowered her voice and said, “Have you heard from Pete?”
    “No.” Tig touched her sternum for comfort and, finding none, said, “I’m really sad.”
    Macie said, “If it helps, it’s only been a week and it sucks around here. I realized something. You’re the only therapist we had that used mascara and didn’t wear Birkenstocks.”
    “That’s not true. Chris doesn’t wear Birkenstocks.”
    “Tevas. Same difference. Worse, actually, because he wears them with obviously ironed blue jeans.” Macie rolled her eyes as if this were the ultimate fashion infraction.
    “A therapist is only as good as the earthy, earnest clothes she or he wears.”
    “I disagree, Dr. M. Coolness factor is a must. Therapists are in dire need of street cred.” Macie flipped her tongue stud against the roof of her mouth.
    “Maybe that can change today. I’m going to talk Julie into getting my job back.”
    Macie looked at her computer screen. “Did you call first?”
    “I didn’t want to give her time to think of a reason to say no.”
    Macie, with a hesitant look on her face, called Julie Purves, the clinic’s director, and waved Tig into the last office in the suite. Tig rehearsed her speech one last time as she approached the closed door.
I’m sorry about the Harmeyers. I’ll apologize and work overflow, and with only new clients unless my old clients ask for me, until a permanent position opens. I’ll take call every weekend and not accrue vacation or sick leave.
    Just as she was about to knock she heard, “Come on in, Tig.”
    The director’s suite was similar to Tig’s old office, with eggshell-white walls, plum upholstery, and requisite bookshelves holding addiction books.
    “As I’m sure Macie told you, the prodigal therapist has returned.”
    Julie leaned forward and said, “Did you forget something?”
    “I forgot I want my job.”
    Julie’s gaze did not waver and her expression remained calm. After twenty years in practice, it took a lot for Julie to break from her serene demeanor. “We’ve been through this, Tig.”
    “I had a whole speech prepared, but the fact is, Hawaii’s out.” Tig felt her shoulders slump an inch and knew her eye concealer couldn’t disguise the shadow of recent losses under her eyes. “Honestly, it’s just as well. I can’t leave my mom. Besides, who would see Mrs. Biddle?”
    “Mrs. Biddle is not your personal responsibility.”
    “Did you know, that woman hasn’t eaten a green vegetable since the seventies, and she can name every last birthday snack she made for her daughter from kindergarten on?” Tig walked to the window and slid off one of her leather ballet flats. She stretched and hit a fly with beautiful, euthanasic precision. “My mom, on the other hand, followed all the health rules . . . all of them. And on a really good day, she can maybe come up with my sister’s first name, the one that never visits.” Tig turned and dropped her shoe. “I never should have quit, Julie. I never should have trusted . . . .” Her thoughts trailed off as she considered who she shouldn’t have trusted. Herself? Pete? The universe?
    “I’m sorry to hear about Hawaii. But, as I remember, the reasons you