The Summer of Sunshine and Margot(83)

Sunshine stared at her. “What?”

“You heard me. Do you want to do this? The whole college thing? Because if it’s hard now, it’s only going to get harder. You’re not even taking a class you’re getting credit for, honey. You’re taking a prerequisite. Are you sure you don’t want to go back to whatever you were doing before? You’re a pretty girl. Do you really want to work this hard?”

The shock of the words dried up her tears. “You can’t talk to me like that.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” Ann muttered.

“No. It’s not right. I’m trying here. I’m doing my homework and I’m prepared for class and, no, I don’t want to go back to what I was before. I’m done being a piece of ass. I mean it. I don’t care what you say, lady. I’m going to figure this out and I’m going to complete this class and I’m getting my degree, with or without your help, and since helping me is your job, you could try being a little more cooperative.”

Ann surprised her by smiling. “There we go. Anger is a lot more useful and energizing. Feeling sorry for yourself just wastes time. When it’s not your fault, you have nowhere to go. Remember that. Now, when was the last time you actually studied?”

“High school.”

“And you’re what now? Twenty-three?”

“Thirty-one.”

Ann raised her eyebrows. “You have really good genes. Okay, so it’s been maybe thirteen years since you were in a classroom. That’s a long time. Here’s the thing—it takes your brain about eight weeks to figure out what’s going on. Right now you’re not absorbing what’s being taught. That’s why when you read a page and go back an hour later, you don’t remember anything. The lectures seem endlessly long and the homework takes forever. Give yourself another month and that will get better.”

Ann opened another drawer and pulled out a brochure. “This has a lot of good tips on how to study. I’m sure you’re doing it all wrong.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No problem.” Ann grinned. “There are easy things to do to help you along. Adult women are the most successful demographic in any college. It’s because they have felt the fear and they are determined. You don’t get to screw up that statistic, hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Before you leave today, make study appointments with me twice a week. I was a math teacher for thirty-four years and then I retired. It was boring, so now I’m here. If you have half a brain, you should be able to figure this out in three or four weeks and then we can go to once a week appointments. How does that sound?”

Ann was direct and a little harsh, but Sunshine liked her. At least she was going to get the truth.

“It’s a good plan,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Happy to help. Now let’s get started. Tell me what’s confusing you.”

Sunshine bit her lower lip. “You really think I can do this?”

“Honey, a monkey could do this, so yes. Let’s get you where you need to be.”

Sunshine opened the book. Connor would have laughed about the monkey comment and Declan... Well, this wasn’t the time to think about him. Despite the C minus, she actually felt a little hopeful.

“I understood linear equations and even the fractions. Everything fell apart when I started trying to do the graphs.”

Ann nodded. “Graphs are hard. Okay, let’s begin there.”

  Margot knew she was more of a doer than a relaxer but even she liked restorative yoga. There was something calming about the various poses and the focus on breathing. She smiled. It was the kind of exercise her sister would enjoy, she thought. When Bianca had suggested a class, Margot had assumed they would go to a studio but instead an instructor had shown up at the house and had taken them through the fifty-minute session out in the garden. When they were done, Margot was so relaxed, she was practically liquid. She barely made it to the table and chairs in the gazebo, where Edna had brought out herbal tea and scones.

“That was incredible,” she said, pouring tea into two cups. “I could do that every day.”

“I’m sure you needed it,” Bianca said with a sly smile. “What with all the sex. Your muscles are being used in ways they aren’t used to.”

Margot should have known there would be a price for the class, but she told herself it was worth it.

“Not playing that game,” she said mildly, reaching for a scone.

“But we talk about my personal life all the time!”

“Your personal life is why I’m here,” she reminded her client. “I won’t discuss Alec with you.”

“Fine. Then let’s talk about the old boyfriend. The one you’ve been avoiding. What was his name? Dietrich?”

Margot considered herself fairly skilled at hiding her emotions. It was part of her job—but wow, did Bianca test her on a regular basis. Still, Dietrich was a safer subject than Alec.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Why was it so awful?”

Margot considered all the stories she could tell, all the examples of how her life had been messed up because Dietrich was in it only to realize he hadn’t been the problem at all.

“I wasn’t my best self when I was with him,” she said with a shrug. “In truth, I was my worst self, and that’s on me, not him. Loving someone should make us better. It should lift us up, not drown us.”