"Then why are you?" Laura asked. "You know me too, Jen. You know you're the one I turn to when I need to talk. How am I supposed to censor what I talk about?"
"Don't you think I thought about that before I made my decision?" Jenny snapped. "Do you think I like having to be careful what I talk about with you? I'm not real thrilled with thei.e.either, Laur, but you have to understand where I'm coming from too."
"And where is that? I don't mean to sound selfish but after sharing my soul with you for the last seven years, it isn't easy to accept." "Not all of your soul was shared with me, Laura," Jenny said in a warning tone. "There's a reason we live at separate addresses now, remember?" Looking down at her cup, Laura found words escaping her. "I thought we weren't going to talk about that," she finally said.
"I'd rather not talk about that tonight either," the therapist admitted, withdrawing her hand and draining her mug. "I'm going home, Laur. You know you can always talk to me about your feelings and thoughts but we can't get into discussions about Crystal. It won't be easy but that's the way it has to be."
"Why do you have to go home? You can stay here." Looking up into Jenny's eyes, she added "I'd really like to hold you tonight." "Not tonight." Leaning over, she kissed Laura's cheek. "I'll see you this weekend for the game."
Seeing Jenny rise, Laura got to her feet as well. "Please, stay for a little while longer? I promise I won't try anything. I just need to talk." Come on, Jen, she silently willed.
"What about?"
Now that the time came, the writer found it hard to reveal the problem that had been in the back of her mind for most of the evening. "I um I got email from the publisher."
"From the look on your face I'd say it wasn't a good email, was it?"
"Not really." Laura sat back down, resting her elbows on the table while her chin rested on her hands. Jenny resumed her seat as well. Laura's gaze settled on the napkin holder. "You know how I've been worrying about missing the deadline?"
"Yeah?"
"I missed it."
"What did they do?"
"Moved my print date back three months. That's going to drain the last of the money Dad left me." Laura shook her head. "I thought about getting a job but if I do that I won't have time to work on the story."
"You won't be working every minute of the day, Hon," Jenny said. "I'm going to make more tea. You want another one?" "No thanks." She watched her ex-lover walk over and pick up the tea kettle. "Jen, I don't know what to do about it anymore. They're yelling at me to get the book done and I can't figure out where to go after Alexandra is rescued from the warehouse."
"The writer's block isn't letting up any, hm?"
"Not one bit." Laura sighed. "Remember when I'd be sitting up there writing for hours on end and you'd bring me coffee?" "I remember. There were nights I couldn't get you to come to bed."
"The characters would get into my head and just not let go until I finished the scene. I felt so good when I had that drive." "And now?"
"Now? I told you, now I can't figure out what to do with Alexandra."
"No, not how is the story going, how are you feeling?" Jenny stepped up behind her and rubbed her back. "You're not exactly the best when it comes to dealing with stress. I'm surprised you're not frantically cleaning the place."
"I'll save that for after you leave," Laura said, cracking a small smile. "You know me too well, Jen."
"So answer the question."
"How do I feel that they pushed the book back three months?"
"No, how do you feel knowing you missed the deadline?" Jenny slid into her seat. "I know you, remember? I remember that story you worked on for months only to erase it from the hard drive when you became frustrated."
"It wasn't going anywhere, just like this one."
"Yes it was. You were at least three quarters of the way through when you got too stressed. That's the same night you emptied all the cabinets and scrubbed them down if I remember correctly."
"It's that anal nature of mine, I guess," Laura sighed. "When I had a wrinkle in the bed, Dad wouldn't just let me fix the wrinkle. He'd tear all the bedding off and have me start over."
"There's a difference between making the bed and throwing away months of hard work," Jenny pointed out. "You're the one who wanted to become a writer. You can't blame anyone but yourself for missing the deadline and you can't go back and change what happened." The whistle of the tea kettle made Jenny stand up. "You know the answer to your own question, Laur." Removing the screaming kettle from the stove, she poured the steaming liquid into her cup. "You know, someday they'll figure out a way to keep the tag from falling in when you add water." Setting the kettle on a different burner to cool, she added milk and sugar to her mug and returned to the table. "So? Have you figured it out yet?"
"You're playing therapist again, Jen."
"So I am. So are you going to have a fit and destroy the story, ruining any chance you have of ever getting it published and making money from it or are you going to take advantage of the extra time you now have to sit down and make the story the best you can?"
"It isn't that easy." Laura rubbed her face. Why do I get myself into these discussions with her? I always lose. "If the ideas won't come, I can't force them in order to finish the story."
"Then maybe you should look at what is keeping the ideas from coming," Jenny said, blowing at her tea before taking a sip. "I just can't seem to concentrate on the story. Alexandra seems
I don't know flat I guess."
"How so?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's just me. I'm just distracted, I guess." Laura's fingers traced the rim of her mug. "You know she became upset when I said we were friends? I don't think she had many friends growing up. How could she with a father like hers?"
"Laura, we can't go there," Jenny said softly.
"How can someone do that to their own kid?" she continued, ignoring the warning.
"There is no good reason, Hon, you know that. But I would say that anyone who can make it through that kind of horror deserves all the support he or she can get, don't you?"
"I hate him, Jen. I've never met the man and I hate him for what he did to her."
"We can't"
"I'm not talking about her," Laura said firmly. "I'm talking about me, about how I feel." She pushed the mug away, making sure it stayed on the . "How am I supposed to be supportive and listen when all I want to do is have my father get some of his military friends to go over and beat the hell out of him?"
"Do you think answering violence with more violence will solve the problem?"
"Don't play therapist, Jen. I don't want the high road answers." Laura pushed her chair back and stood up.
"You never did." Jenny set the tea cup down and patted the empty chair next to her. "Come sit down."
"No, I can't. I have things to do." Walking over to the sink, Laura opened the lower cabinet and removed the mop pail. "This floor is a mess." "The floor is fine and I'm sure you've mopped it at least once in the last twenty-four hours. Come on, Laur. Sit down and talk to me."
"I need to get this done, Jen," she said, testing the water temperature with her fingers. Once it was warm enough, Laura filled the pail before adding a healthy amount of cleaner to the water. Shutting off the tap, she hefted the pail out of the sink and set it down on the floor. When she turned to get the mop, she was surprised to find that Jenny had left the table and was now standing before her.
"Well if you won't talk to me then I can't stay any longer. It's getting too late. I know better than to try and talk you out of it. Do me a favor, though?" Jenny pulled her into a tight embrace. "Stop beating yourself up about missing the deadline," she whispered into Laura's ear. "It doesn't make you any less of a writer or any less of a person, despite what you think."
"You don't have to go."
Patting Laura on the back, Jenny replied "Yes I do. I'm not in the mood to fight you off, you octopus."