Page 21 of HER: A Psychological Thriller
“Not to Neil, it isn’t. Not to Paul either. He’s very hard on him. Too hard, if you ask me. But it is what it is. Anyway—we have high standards for our children, therefore they have high standards for themselves.”
She says it like she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying. “I can understand that.”
“Can you?” Her expression is serious.
“Sure.”
“Good,” she tells me. “It’ll make what I am about to ask you easier to swallow.”
A quizzical look is offered meanwhile a rebuttal dances on my tongue.
“I need you to change his grade.”
“I don’t really have access to grades…I’m just a sub.”
“But it’s possible…say…next time you’re in the office…to say…accidentally log in to the admin’s computer. It wouldn’t be too difficult. Would it? If, of course, you had the log-in information.”
“Where would I get that?”
“Leave that to me. Let’s say this is a test. Let’s say I get you the information, and you change the grade, and if all goes well, you’re hired.”
I choke on my own spit. I’m amazed that Ann would ask me to do this. But then, maybe not really. “Sorry,” I say when I finally get my bearings. I shake my head and push what’s left of the coffee away. “It’s really good. Really good,” I lie. “But unfortunately, I think I’ve met my quota for today.”
“It’s pretty strong stuff.” Ann flips on the faucet, fills a glass and hands it to me. “Anyhow—about the job—what I’m thinking—what I need is someone I can trust. Someone who will honor the very intimate details of my life. Someone to manage my schedule—”
“Like an assistant?” I’m surprised to hear my words slur.
“That’s right. That way I can do what it is I do best—help people. Therapy is an amazing gift, Sadie. You should try it. I could even make it part of our deal, if you wanted. We could be…well, not just friends…but more. We could be partners.”
The last time someone used the word therapy with me and spoke about how they wanted to do things like erase memories and replace them with other things, it hadn’t turned out so well, so I say, “I’m not very good at therapy. And I’m not very good at organizing.”
“Ah, now, Sadie. You shouldn’t sell yourself short. You were the president of the yearbook club back in high school…you were at the top of your game at Norris and Tillman. That is, before you left to start a family.”
I don’t ask how she knows any of this. But she does, which makes any answer she might give too late.
“I’ve been accused of being an overachiever,” I tell her. “In the past.”
“By who?” Her brow furrows. “Underachievers?”
I laugh, and I realize she’s the loveliest person I’ve ever met. “Something like that.”
“All winners and losers in life are completely self-determined. But only the winners are willing to admit it. You can’t let people justify their lack of success with criticism of your success. That’s a surefire way to hell,” she says. “And happiness isn’t found there, trust me.”
“I didn’t start a family, though.”
Ann rolls her eyes. “You have plenty of time.”
“Hardly.”
“Sadie. Sadie. Sadie.” Her face twists like I’m missing a key clue to the universe. “Don’t you know? You can have anything you want.”
This causes me to scoff. I don’t mean to. I’m afraid the people at that class are starting to rub off on me. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough.”
She’s wrong about this, of course. Although, the confirmation that even people like her make mistakes is nice.
“Hang around me long enough,” she says, “and you’ll see.”