High Anxiety by Charlotte Hughes

over.”
    “You are not going to be scarred or disfigured,” I said a little more forcefully than I’d intended. Abigail peeked into my office. “I have to go,” I told Mona. “It’ll be at least an hour before I can get there. I need to run by the house and grab Mike and a change of clothes. How about I stop by our favorite Chinese place on the way?”
    “That would be great.”
    “Do you have chocolate in the house?”
    “Have you ever known me not to?”
    “Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to for a minute.”
    I hung up. Abigail smiled. “I’ll bet that was Mona. Sounds like you guys are planning a big evening. I miss not having a best friend.”
    “I’m sure you’ll meet a lot of new friends,” I said, grabbing my purse from my bottom desk drawer.
    Her smile faded. “I don’t think I could ever trust anyone to get that close to me again.”
    I didn’t respond, mainly because I did not want to encourage Abigail into thinking it was okay to tell me all her personal problems, which some people tended to do when they learned I was a psychologist. Also, instinct told me that Abigail probably had more problems than most. Instead, I went about locking my files and drawers.
    “Do you want me to come back in the morning?” she asked.
    I glanced up. She seemed to be holding her breath. “That was the plan I worked out with the temp agency,” I said, surprised that she would ask. “I told them I’d need someone until my receptionist returned.”
    Abigail looked relieved.
     
     
    My telephone was ringing as I walked through my front door. My mother was on the other end of the line.
    “How did the temp girl work out?” she asked.
    “Not bad, considering it was her first day,” I said, deciding it was best to leave out the part about Abigail being a little weird.
    “Well, that makes me feel better,” she said. “Have you heard from Mona?”
    “She claims her rash has worsened.”
    My mother gave a grunt. “That woman spends too much time worrying about her looks. She won’t always be young and beautiful.”
    “Please promise me you’ll never tell her that.”
    “I have more important things on my mind,” she said. “Now, you know I’m not one to interfere with your life, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
    Just hearing those words sent a shudder of fear through me. “Yeah?”
    “I know you’re concerned about Jay, and I have always found that prayer helps me through difficult times. I’m not trying to preach to you, but I don’t like that you’ve strayed from your faith.”
    I pressed the ball of my hand against my head. Just what I needed, another Bitsy Stout in my life. “Mom, I’m not an atheist, okay?”
    Silence at first. “If you say so.”
    I managed to cut the call short. I changed into my favorite jeans and decided on an outfit for the following day, then I grabbed Mike’s food, and we took off. At the Chinese restaurant, I filled two take-out containers from the buffet. I figured I would give Mona as many choices as I could.
    I arrived at her house twenty minutes later and found her wearing loose pajamas. I was shocked to see that her rash had indeed worsened, but I pretended not to notice.
    “I know it’s a little early for pj’s,” she said in a dejected tone, “but I can’t stand for anything to rub against my skin. So I figured satin wouldn’t be as bad.”
    “You should wear whatever is comfortable,” I said. I smiled and held up the to-go bag from the restaurant. “I hope you’re hungry, because I chose a little of everything.”
    “Thank you,” she said.
    We prepared our plates, and I grabbed bottled water from the fridge.
    “So how was the girl from the agency?” Mona asked, once we sat down at the kitchen table.
    “She did okay,” I said, again keeping my feelings to myself. I smiled. “Of course, nobody can fill your shoes.”
    Mona gave me a weak smile, but her thoughts seemed elsewhere. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to come back