Free Calm, Cool, and Adjusted by Kristin Billerbeck

“Trauma. He thinks going back will help.”
    “It won’t.” I feel that familiar knot in my stomach and I wish with everything in me that I could run right now. I wish I had my workout gear, which I usually keep in my car, and could just run until I couldn’t go any farther.
    She pats my leg again. “I’ve waited a long time to get out of that house, Poppy.”
    I nod, thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, this woman hasn’t been quite the vixen I’ve created her to be in my mind. I still don’t like her, and it’s so much easier to believe my father was duped than that he actually left our lives and my mother in the recesses of his mind. But still . . . “You’ve been more than patient, Sharon.”
    She smiles. “Come out and mingle with the hodgepodge of weirdos your father assembled. He went to big trouble.”
    We laugh, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. Who am I kidding? I look like that group’s leader. There’s no getting around it. Suddenly, Morgan’s words today don’t seem that far-fetched.
    As I follow Sharon out the door, Morgan is there. She’s wearing diamond earrings the size of peacoat toggles and is dressed to the nines. Her blonde hair is up in a perfect swirl.
    “Wow, you look great.”
    She smiles at me. “You’re not mad at me.”
    “I’m a little miffed, but I have bigger fish to fry. Come smile with me.” I give her a toothy grin. “Like this.”
    “I set up the spa weekend,” Morgan says as we walk the hallway. “We’re all set and Lilly’s coming too. I brought you a picture of your date.” Morgan looks down at the floor. “If you’re interested in meeting him. Otherwise, you come alone or with whomever you please. All right?”
    I smile at her and put my head on her shoulder.
    “You know, I’ve never heard you mad like that. Well, maybe that one time when I wouldn’t drink that orange slop you were giving me. But I realized I overstepped my bounds. I’m sorry.”
    “I’m glad I got mad. It helped me know what I want out of life, and being set up is not that thing. Come meet my other weirdo friends.” I pull her into the room of my history, where she is greeted with sheer astonishment. To say Morgan is beautiful is a vast understatement to her presence. She gives off an aura that acts as a magnet to all around her. You’re drawn to her like a lighthouse on a stormy night. “Everyone, this is my friend Morgan Malliard.”
    Jed looks for a little too long, and I think his wife kicks him under the table, “What?” he asks in all innocence and I have to muffle my giggle.
    I find us seats next to Dr. Amos. “Morgan, this is the woman who encouraged me to be a doctor. She was the only female doctor on the coast at that time, and I just worshiped her.” I smile at my mentor, and she speaks to Morgan.
    “Poppy was always an interesting child. Interested in what everything did and how you diagnosed all the different diseases. I think she had the medical dictionary memorized by age twelve.”
    Interesting. Now there’s a word I’ve heard to describe me for years. I believe it’s a thesaurus word for weirdo . Not that I shun that title, either, but if you look around the table here, everyone’s a weirdo. Even Morgan’s a weirdo, though no one can tell because they’re too blinded by her beauty. But I’ve been one of her best friends since college, and trust me: she’s a weirdo too. She just dresses better. I wonder if I let my girlfriends dress me I’d hear the adjective interesting less often.
    Morgan is laughing. It’s her Get-me-out-of-here-now laugh. But we still have dinner to sit through. A long and uncomfortable dinner. Full of my childhood foibles and quirks—and let me just say, I hardly needed to be reminded. I look at Sharon and suddenly see her as my alibi instead of my enemy. Get thee to a realtor. Poppy Clayton is leaving her shell, and her childhood, behind!

chapter 6
    Home.
    Desperation scale: 4
    I get home to the