Free Picking Up the Pieces by Elizabeth Hayley Page B

the stairwell.”
    Even Mr. Coulson didn’t know how to respond to that. And he had a comment for everything . Before she had spoken, there’d been no doubt in my mind that whatever Trish was about to say would be awful, but I had no idea that her kids had been reenacting The fucking Shawshank Redemption. I briefly wondered why I hadn’t seen Tim Robbins emerge from her classroom with pieces of drywall in the cuffs of his pants.
    Over the course of the next few hours, we managed to talk Trish down from her proverbial ledge. Though at least now if she got the urge to “jump,” she could just climb through the hole in her wall and throw herself down the stairs. I had to admit, the image made me laugh.
    ***
    Somehow, even after the meeting, I still felt energetic enough to go to CrossFit before heading home. By the time I walked in the door, it was already after 8:15. I jumped when I heard Amanda scream. Not so much because of all of the yelling. I was used to her crazy behavior. I jumped because I hadn’t expected her to be home. She almost always got home after me.
    I heard running water , mixed with Amanda’s cursing, coming from the bathroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Ouch! Jesus Christ!”
    “Amanda, are you okay?” I knocked on the door, unsure of what could elicit such urgent screams.
    “Uh, yeah. I just . . ." She sighed deeply before continuing. "I sprayed myself in the eye with sex toy cleaner.” She opened the door and thrust the bottle my way. “Can you read this? Should I call poison control or something?”
    “You’re ridiculous. Just keep splashing water on your eyes. It’ll come out. The stuff is made to go on things you put in your body. It’s not poisonous.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her. This kind of stuff always happened to Amanda. “How did you do that anyway?”
    As she flicked on the light and held up the vibrator she’d been clenching in her hand, I instantly became sorry I’d asked. “I was cleaning this in the dark. I couldn’t see which way the bottle was gonna spray. I just started pumping, and it sprayed in my eyes.” She pulled a hand towel off the rack and dabbed her face dry. “I didn’t even get to clean this yet,” she said as she ran the vibrator under the water and sprayed the cleaner cautiously toward it.
    “Why does every conve rsation I have with you revolve around sex?”
    She shrugged. “‘Cause I love sex. And when I can’t have it with someone else, I like to have it with myself. Speaking of . . . there seems to be a little more pep in your step the last few days,” she nearly sang. “Tell me about him.”
    “Who?”
    “What do you mean ‘who’? Whoever has you so happy. You’ve been walking around with a goofy smile since the weekend.”
    “I have?” My question was genuine.
    “Yeah, you have. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
    “Um, no, not really.” I hadn’t noticed I’d been happier . More energetic? Definitely. More upbeat? Maybe. But happier? That was an emotion I thought had left me months ago. I’d seen Max over the weekend, and it had gone well—once we’d gotten past our little spat in the beginning, that is. The rest of the night had gone better than I'd expected, full of easy conversation and light laughter. We had fun together. I kept waiting for the bomb to drop, but it never did. He even divulged his interest in the job prospect his agent had scored for him. Max Samson opened up to me, and the shock had nearly killed me on the spot. He’d texted Monday to thank me for meeting with him and told me he’d text me later this week. But we were still so far from what we were when we were at our best. And our “best” was never all that good to begin with. We had a long way to go. Maybe I was just happy we’d begun the journey.
    “Oh, before I forget, do you wanna go play pool Saturday? Steph and Danielle wanna go. We can drink and make stupid bets.”
    Thank God for Amanda’s ADD. If there was one thing she was good