Page 42 of HER: A Psychological Thriller
“No, how they can’t move on.”
“We all need to move on, Sadie. I think we can both agree on that.”
Obviously, she means me, and obviously she is referring to my marriage. It would hurt if I didn’t have a plan to rectify it.
Ann is aces at social cues. She reads me well. “Don’t be so sensitive,” she says, and I have to look away. Ethan used to call me that.
I check the suicide phone, annoyed that it’s so quiet. Ann insists that we take the phones everywhere. Just in case. Now, I’m glad I have it, and now I’m willing it to ring. Sometimes you just need to know someone out there has it worse than you.
“Come on,” she tells me, taking my hand. “Since we can’t find furniture, we might as well do something to make ourselves feel better.”
“Like what?” I ask, saying a silent prayer she isn’t going to force me into another box store. I hope she’ll suggest lunch. I’m starving.
Her face brightens. “Something crazy.”
I have no idea what crazy truly means to Ann. But as long as it isn’t shopping, I want to. I really, really want to. Also, she seems happy again, and she isn’t thinking about patio furniture or draining her pool or the police. Which is probably why it doesn’t occur to me to question what she has in mind.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
SADIE
Ann goes through my refrigerator first. “There’s nothing alive in here.”
“I eat out, mostly.”
Inevitably, she finds my stash of Oreos and potato chips. And then, she finds the back-up stash, the one I’d kept hidden from Ethan, back when keeping things hidden still mattered. I look on helplessly as she opens the trashcan and flings my favorite things in. “If you want to win your man back—hell if you want to win any man,” she says. “I’m afraid you have a long way to go, Sadie. This stuff is poison. Absolute poison.”
I stare at the floor. It has just hit me. I have fallen for the female version of my husband. Even so, I have to admit, she is at least partly right. I do have a long way to go. A person has to burn about 3,500 calories to lose one pound of fat. I’d need to burn at least 87,500 calories to reach a healthy weight.
Ann knows this, so I know this.
“We have three hours before your hair appointment.”
I look at her like she’s crazy. “I told you before. I can’t afford your hair person.”
“Consider it a favor.”
“I don’t need favors…”
“Don’t be obtuse, Sadie. Everyone needs favors. And anyway, remember? I owe you.”
“Not that much.”
“Are you kidding? You’ve done so much. You helped with Neil. You saved me with the appetizer fiasco. And that isn’t even the half of it.”
“I can manage this on my own…” I say. “I mean…I’m sure you have a million other more important things you could be doing…isn’t Paul home?”
With the flick of her wrist she is waving me off, she is calling my bluff, and I already know what a bloody disaster this is going to be. “Paul is busy. Bless his heart. He works so hard. He lost three patients last week. I think he needs time…”
She closes the pantry door and moves on to the freezer.
“Really,” I promise. “We don’t have to do this. We could do something—”
“You scratch my back. I scratch yours.”
“Ann.”
She looks back at me and winks. “Like I said—it’s a favor, Sadie. Isn’t that what friends are for? ”