“Oh, come on. You told me yourself how much you adore all that history stuff.” Jane inhaled sharply, clearly nervous. “But hey, if you’re ready for a break, I might have a task for you.”
Jeremy glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to see that an hour had passed since his divorce search. Soon, he had to head off for Nantucket High School for his meeting with Sarah’s counselor.
“I don’t have much time. I have to head out early today.”
Jane sounded disappointed. “I don’t have anything jotted down in your calendar for this afternoon?”
Jeremy bristled. “It’s a private matter.”
“I see.” Jane recognized the barrier between them. After a dramatic pause, she added, “There’s a shipment coming for you tomorrow morning at nine. You’ll be able to make time in your busy schedule for that, won’t you?”
Jeremy rolled his eyes. Sometimes, adult life felt a whole lot like high school, with the same petty arguments and the same silly hurt feelings.
“Wouldn’t miss it, Jane. Thanks a lot for the reminder.”
Jeremy was grateful he could sneak out of the Nantucket Courthouse at three when Jane had abandoned her front-desk post to grab a coffee at the kiosk. Jane’s laughter echoed down the hall, sounding forced, as though she wanted him to hear it. Again, Jeremy pushed his legs a little too hard as he raced out, straining his old injuries.
“Cool down, Champ,” he muttered to himself. “You’ll be no good to anyone if you hurt yourself again.”
Jeremy walked through the seventy-one-degree perfection of this late-May afternoon. Very soon, summer vacation would arrive, bringing a whole host of different parental worries— like late-night parties, drinking and driving, and unprotected sex. Jeremy had been the high school quarterback, a borderline “God” when it came to the American high school system. Whatever there was to know about “what kids did that they didn’t want their parents to know,” he’d probably done it.
Of course, Sarah was different. He knew that. That was the reason for the meeting with the counselor, after all.
Pam Conners met Jeremy in the high school foyer. She was a short woman with very thin wrists and a propensity for lip shades that didn’t quite suit her skin color. This, Jeremy, knew because he’d heard another parent say it. Since then, her various coral or maroon-colored lipsticks had only thrown him off.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Farley,” Pam greeted, sticking out her hand.
“Hi, there.”Jeremy shook her hand.
“If you’ll come with me? We have to check you into the office.”
Jeremy followed Pam down the hallway. Each staggered step seemed to cast him deeper into high school memories, most of which he truly didn’t want to relive. The last time he’d been a student at Nantucket High School, he’d had full use of his legs. He’d been on his way to becoming the next best quarterback across the United States of America.
Now, he was just a divorced, forty-five-year-old man, up to his ears with problems.
The counselor’s office hadn’t changed much since Jeremy’s high school years. The posters on the walls read similar slogans, like “REACH FOR YOUR DREAMS” and “BELIEVE IN YOURSELF.” Jeremy had outlined the first semester of his college courses at that very desk. The counselor at the time had sizzled with excitement, thinking himself privy to the first steps of a very important man’s life.
Pam folded her hands over the desk and asked Jeremy if he wanted anything to drink. Jeremy wanted to yell at her to get started, that he didn’t have time to mess around.
“Let’s just get started,” Jeremy said instead.
“Okay.”
Pam’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. It was obvious that she thought he was attractive. It was the same look that Jane gave him, the same as waitresses, bank tellers, and other women on the island of Nantucket.Why hadn’t Jeremy Farley ever dated after Piper left him?It was the million-dollar question.
“As you know, Sarah has lost a good deal of weight this year,” Pam began.
Jeremy wanted to scream again. “All I ever do is try to come up with recipes she’ll eat.”
Chicken Alfredo. Vegan tacos. Spaghetti with pesto sauce. Spaghetti with red sauce. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Vegan hot dogs. Meat hot dogs. None of it mattered to Sarah. She shoved it around on her plate, sucked her cheeks in, and ran off to exercise in her bedroom.
“I’m sure.” Pam tried to give him a look that showed she cared. Jeremy wasn’t buying it.
“Have you looked into therapy at all?” Pam continued.
“Isn’t that kind of the job of the school counselor?” Jeremy’s anger mounted.
“I’m not a psychiatrist. My assistance can only go so far. In recent semesters, Sarah’s grades have stayed the same, but her involvement in after-school activities has dwindled. She has a few friends, but she mostly keeps to herself. It’s worrisome, especially for a child who showed such potential during her freshman year.”