perfect!”
I don’t get it. Were there two of her? Is this a twin? If it is, where’s Andrea? I shift around and try to see farther into the apartment, and I get a big bunch of the white blooms in my face. Great. If it wasn’t already hard enough to see, now my eyes are watering and the scent is making me dizzy. Maybe I’m having some sort of jasmine-induced hallucination.
“You’re the best fairy godmother in the world!” I hear Andrea say. What is she talking about? Is that some strange California slang term for life coach? “I’m going to text Aaron right now!”
That’s when I sneeze. Loud. Andrea looks out the window and screams. When I try to back out of the bushes, I trip, and it’s only by grabbing one of the huge bird-plant neck-stems that I stop myself from face-planting onto the concrete walk. Unfortunately, I decapitate a couple of the birds along the way. I couldn’t help it. It was them or me.
“Delaney?” I glance up to see Hank, who’s come outside and is staring down at me, half perplexed, half irritated.
Andrea—the pretty twin Andrea—steps up beside him. “Oh, is this your daughter?” She holds out her hand to me. “It’s so great to meet you!” She’s over her scare and now it’s as if finding me in the bushes is simply another wonderful moment in her evening. I don’t shake her hand so much as use it for leverage to haul myself out of the jungle. “Why didn’t you come to the door?”
“I think the better question is what Delaney is doing here at all, since I asked her to wait in the car.”
“It’s been over twenty minutes,” I say, even though I know it’s been nowhere near that.
“You should’ve brought her in with you, Dr. Hank. She didn’t need to wait outside.”
“Think about that for a minute, Andrea.”
“What?
Oh
… she doesn’t know?”
I look up from plucking the last bits of sappy feather-petals off my shirt. “Know what?”
The now-familiar beat of silence between Hank and me ensues, but it’s not awkward this time so much as tense. I’m getting tired of it. “Know
what
?”
“What did you see?” Hank asks calmly. Too calmly. Too “it doesn’t really matter what you saw,” which means it
does
.
What
did
I see, though? Nothing, really. Or nothing I can describe in a way that Hank won’t brush off with some flip explanation. So I take a risk.
“
Everything
.”
Andrea’s eyes pop wide and Hank’s back stiffens. I hold his gaze. Showdown. Hank’s eyes flick away first. I win … I think. Hank turns to Andrea. “Okay, Andrea. We’ll do the car.”
“Oh, thank you!” Andrea claps and scurries off toward the garages that line the alley behind the building, her heels click-clacking on the concrete.
“I believe you may have seen
something
, Delaney,” Hank says to me as we follow Andrea to the alley. “But I doubt you understood what it was.” Andrea lifts one of the garage doors, revealing a rusted tomato-red junkyard special. “I intended to put off telling you about this until after you’d settled in, but maybe it’s for the best.”
I really don’t see what the big deal is. So he gives his clients fashion advice in addition to therapy. Why should I care? If there’s some life-coach oath he’s violating, I’ll never tell. “I want you to pay close attention,” he continues. “What you’re about to see is likely to be very confusing. Your brain is going to have a hard time processing it. You’ll try to come up with logic-based explanations, and you’ll probably start to feel overwhelmed, even panicky. So try to relax.”
Uh-huh. The only thing my brain is having a hard time processing is his monotonous, nonsensical rambling. “I’m beyond relaxed,” I say. “I’m ready to fall asleep.”
Andrea has managed to start the car after about fifty engine-grinding tries and has now backed out into the alley. She’s bouncing again, this time on her butt instead of her heels, and not excitedly but
I don’t get it. Were there two of her? Is this a twin? If it is, where’s Andrea? I shift around and try to see farther into the apartment, and I get a big bunch of the white blooms in my face. Great. If it wasn’t already hard enough to see, now my eyes are watering and the scent is making me dizzy. Maybe I’m having some sort of jasmine-induced hallucination.
“You’re the best fairy godmother in the world!” I hear Andrea say. What is she talking about? Is that some strange California slang term for life coach? “I’m going to text Aaron right now!”
That’s when I sneeze. Loud. Andrea looks out the window and screams. When I try to back out of the bushes, I trip, and it’s only by grabbing one of the huge bird-plant neck-stems that I stop myself from face-planting onto the concrete walk. Unfortunately, I decapitate a couple of the birds along the way. I couldn’t help it. It was them or me.
“Delaney?” I glance up to see Hank, who’s come outside and is staring down at me, half perplexed, half irritated.
Andrea—the pretty twin Andrea—steps up beside him. “Oh, is this your daughter?” She holds out her hand to me. “It’s so great to meet you!” She’s over her scare and now it’s as if finding me in the bushes is simply another wonderful moment in her evening. I don’t shake her hand so much as use it for leverage to haul myself out of the jungle. “Why didn’t you come to the door?”
“I think the better question is what Delaney is doing here at all, since I asked her to wait in the car.”
“It’s been over twenty minutes,” I say, even though I know it’s been nowhere near that.
“You should’ve brought her in with you, Dr. Hank. She didn’t need to wait outside.”
“Think about that for a minute, Andrea.”
“What?
Oh
… she doesn’t know?”
I look up from plucking the last bits of sappy feather-petals off my shirt. “Know what?”
The now-familiar beat of silence between Hank and me ensues, but it’s not awkward this time so much as tense. I’m getting tired of it. “Know
what
?”
“What did you see?” Hank asks calmly. Too calmly. Too “it doesn’t really matter what you saw,” which means it
does
.
What
did
I see, though? Nothing, really. Or nothing I can describe in a way that Hank won’t brush off with some flip explanation. So I take a risk.
“
Everything
.”
Andrea’s eyes pop wide and Hank’s back stiffens. I hold his gaze. Showdown. Hank’s eyes flick away first. I win … I think. Hank turns to Andrea. “Okay, Andrea. We’ll do the car.”
“Oh, thank you!” Andrea claps and scurries off toward the garages that line the alley behind the building, her heels click-clacking on the concrete.
“I believe you may have seen
something
, Delaney,” Hank says to me as we follow Andrea to the alley. “But I doubt you understood what it was.” Andrea lifts one of the garage doors, revealing a rusted tomato-red junkyard special. “I intended to put off telling you about this until after you’d settled in, but maybe it’s for the best.”
I really don’t see what the big deal is. So he gives his clients fashion advice in addition to therapy. Why should I care? If there’s some life-coach oath he’s violating, I’ll never tell. “I want you to pay close attention,” he continues. “What you’re about to see is likely to be very confusing. Your brain is going to have a hard time processing it. You’ll try to come up with logic-based explanations, and you’ll probably start to feel overwhelmed, even panicky. So try to relax.”
Uh-huh. The only thing my brain is having a hard time processing is his monotonous, nonsensical rambling. “I’m beyond relaxed,” I say. “I’m ready to fall asleep.”
Andrea has managed to start the car after about fifty engine-grinding tries and has now backed out into the alley. She’s bouncing again, this time on her butt instead of her heels, and not excitedly but
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