ir in exasperation. “Yes,
please,” he says, but I can tell he’s irritated.
I put the kettle on the stove and busy myself with
teacups and the teapot. My anxiety level has shot to
DEFCON ONE. Is he going to tell me the problem? Or am I
going to ha一ve to dig?
I sense his eyes on me—sense his uncertainty, and his
I sense his eyes on me—sense his uncertainty, and his
anger is palpable. I glance up, and his eyes glitter with
apprehension.
“What is it?” I ask softly.
He shakes his head.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
He sighs and closes his eyes. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because it shouldn’t concern you. I don’t want you
tangled up in this.”
“It shouldn’t concern me, but it does. She found me
and accosted me outside my office. How does she know
about me? How does she know where I work? I think I
ha一ve a right to know what’s going on.”
He runs a hand through his hair again, radiating
frustration as if waging some internal battle.
“Please?” I ask softly.
His mouth sets into a hard line, and he rolls his eyes at
me.
“Okay,” he says, resigned. “I ha一ve no idea how she
found you. Maybe the photograph of us in Portland, I
don’t know.” He sighs again, and I sense his frustration is
directed at himself.
I wait patiently, pouring boiling water into the teapot as
he paces back and forth. After a beat he continues.
“While I was with you in Georgia, Leila turned up at
my apartment unannounced and made a scene in front of
Gail.”
“Gail?”
“Mrs. Jones.”
“What do you mean, ‘made a scene’?”
He glares at me, appraising.
“Tell me. You’re keeping something back.” My tone is
more forceful than I feel.
He blinks at me, surprised. “Ana, I—” he stops.
“Please?”
He sighs in defeat. “She made a haphazard attempt to
open a vein.”
“Oh no!” That explains the bandage on her wrist.
“Gail got her to hospital. But Leila discharged herself
“Gail got her to hospital. But Leila discharged herself
before I could get there.”
Crap. What does this mean? Suicidal? Why?
“The shrink who saw her called it a typical cry for hel
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