Three
Teller
The next two weeks blur together in a pattern I don't even recognize as a pattern.
Tuesday night, Frank and I grab drinks at Jumo's again, and Clarissa "happens" to be there.
Thursday, we meet up with Emmaline, another friend of Frank's who just moved back to town and needs advice about her ex-boyfriend.
Saturday afternoon turns into Saturday night when we run into both of them at the wine bar downtown.
"What are the odds?" Frank laughs, but I'm starting to wonder about those odds myself.
Still, it feels good to be needed. Emmaline texts me Monday morning asking if I have time to talk through a work situation. Clarissa sends me articles about entrepreneurship with messages like, "Thought of you when I read this."
Susanna notices, of course. She always notices.
"Who are you texting?" she asks one night while we're watching TV. Or rather, while she's watching TV and I'm on my phone.
"Just Frank's friend Emmaline. She's having a rough time with her boss."
"Emmaline." Susanna's voice is flat. "The one you had drinks with last week?"
"We didn't have drinks. Frank and I ran into her, and we all talked for a bit. She's going through a lot right now."
"And she needs to text you at 9 PM on a Wednesday about it?"
I look up from my phone, irritation flaring. "What's your problem, Susanna? I'm helping someone. Since when is that a crime?"
"It's not a crime. It's just..." She trails off, and I can see her trying to find the right words. "You're always helping everyone else. Frank's friends, your coworkers, random people you meet. But when was the last time you asked how I'm doing?"
"I ask you all the time."
"No, you don't." Her voice cracks slightly. "You ask if dinner's ready. You ask if I picked up your dry cleaning. You don't ask how I'm actually doing."
This is ridiculous. "You're being dramatic. If something was wrong, you'd tell me."
"Would I? Because every time I try to talk to you, you're on your phone or heading out the door with Frank."
My phone buzzes. Emmaline again. "Sorry to bother you, but I really need to talk. Can you call?"
"I need to take this," I say, standing up.
"Of course you do." Susanna's voice is bitter, defeated.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, Teller. Take your call. Help Emmaline with her crisis. I'll be here when you're done. I'm always here."
I step out onto the back porch, the cool night air hitting my face. Emmaline answers on the first ring, her voice thick with tears. She's had another fight with her ex, and she needs someone to talk to, someone who understands.
I talked to her for forty-five minutes. When I come back inside, Susanna's already gone to bed.