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together, during which time I decided to find a job. I needed some activity that would get me out from beneath Mother’s scrutiny, and perhaps doing what I was educated to do would be the best idea.
    I showered and was scouring the job listings on my laptop when my cell rang.
    “Hello.” I hadn’t recognized the number but it was local so I answered it.
    “Hello, Auggie,” the vaguely familiar voice said.
    “Who’s this?” I was taken off guard.
    “Worth LaViere,” he answered. “I thought you might like to have a drink with me tomorrow night?”
    Silence stretched to an uncomfortable level as I tried to process his words. “What? Are you serious?” I couldn’t think straight.
    “Of course I’m serious.” He was so cocksure of himself.
    “Wait a minute. Doesn’t that constitute some kind of violation of ethics? I mean, are you like asking me on a date?” I was completely puzzled.
    “Well, to be blunt, yes. I’m asking you on a date and no, it’s only a conflict if you’re my patient. Which, as of this afternoon, you are not. So, what do you say?”
    “You’re really serious, aren’t you?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around this.
    “How about the bar at the Hilton? Let’s say six o’clock tomorrow?”
    “Why?” It was the only thing I could think to ask.
    “Because I’m attracted to you.” It was a simple reply and I had to give him credit for being upfront with his intent. I’m not sure whether he talked like that to be a little rebellious, or whether he truly is just that honest. There was only one way to find out.
    “I’ll be there. You be there and be ready to answer some questions off the clock, doc.”
    “If you call me doc, I get to call you Elizabeth Augusta.”
    “See you tomorrow… Worth.”
    I hung up and felt my heart hammering like the first time I was asked on a date. I lost my appetite and opened my wardrobe to see what I would wear. In disgust, I realized I was completely outfitted for working on the farm but had little in the way of anything dressy for the Hilton. I resolved to get up early, have a mani-pedi and buy some new clothes.
    It wasn’t until just before I fell asleep that it occurred to me that Mother might be behind this. I tried to swat the thought away, as one would a troublesome mosquito, but it stayed with me. I dreamed all night of mosquitos in a bedroom with white gauzy drapes and a tall, naked man who made love to me and wouldn’t let me go. It was one of the best night’s sleep I’d had in a long time.
    The next morning, I rose early and dressed in clothing that was easy to slip off in the dressing room. I pulled my car onto the roadway feeling very feminine and my instincts for capturing a male’s attention were in full bloom. I’m not entirely sure why I was interested in catching Worth LaViere’s interest. Was I starving for some sort of male attention after the Eric debacle? Was my femininity in question? Perhaps it was Mother. She emasculated Dad. She also had a way of doing the same thing, in a feminine sense, to me.
    I wish I had a sister or, at least, a brother with whom to commiserate. I was always left with the feeling that I wasn’t being entirely fair to her, yet every time I tried to put things behind us, she said or did something new. I could not understand how Dad put up with her. He certainly was a good man and could have found someone with a better disposition to give him a happier life.
    It doesn’t serve a purpose to think of one’s parents in this sense, I realized. There was something unwholesome about it.
    I found a stylish salon and remembered having been there once as a younger girl when a friend of the family had gotten married. The place looked exactly the same and the hairdressers just as friendly as my hair was trimmed and I indulged in a manicure and pedicure. While I was there, I looked at a few magazines, deciding on a style I could identify with. I wasn’t a model and didn’t care much about designer labels.