Forgive Me(5)

Angie was sure lupus was the main reason she grew up an only child, though her mother said otherwise. “One is enough for us. We have everything we need and want with you.”

It made Angie feel better, though never lessened her desire for a sibling, especially a sister.

It took years for Kathleen’s doctors to prescribe the right course of treatment. During that time, lupus episodes had required many trips to the hospital. In addition to an anti-inflammatory regimen, Kathleen took a number of other medications to treat conditions commonly seen with the disease. Lupus had no cure, and although it was an inheritable disease, Angie had never experienced any symptoms.

“I’m sure you’ll surpass last year’s effort,” Angie said.

“Perhaps. I’m assuming I can count on you for twenty-five dollars?” Kathleen said this only a little playfully.

Angie always gave what she could. “I’ll make it fifty this year. I did a transport yesterday that paid pretty well.”

Transport meant Angie had entered a sleeping teenage boy’s bedroom with an ex-law-enforcement agent at her side. They woke the startled kid, and his parents had to explain that he’d be going away for a while, right then and there, non-negotiable. A car was waiting for him downstairs. Angie escorted the parents out of the boy’s bedroom while her partner made it clear who was in charge. They drove the teen a few hundred miles to a wilderness therapy program in southwestern Virginia, and Angie pocketed a thousand bucks for the effort. It was no problem donating fifty to her mom’s committee. She’d give more if she could.

“How is business going?” Kathleen asked.

“Busy,” Angie said. “Runaways and craptastic behavior seem to be recession-proof.”

“Any time for yourself?” Kathleen’s face showed concern.

Angie resisted the eye roll she had perfected in puberty. “Mom, are we doing this again?”

“Just look here.” Kathleen took out her smartphone and showed Angie a Tinder profile she had made—for Angie.

“Mom! What are you doing?”

“Well, I was curious, that’s all. I saw something about Tinder on 20/20, and it looked promising.”

“Please, stop.”

“Just look for a second. It’s fun. It uses your location so you see people who are near you. You swipe right if you like them and left if you don’t. Couldn’t be any easier! Oh, he’s cute.” Kathleen swiped right.

“Mom. Mom! No. We do not need to do this.”

The phone made a ding sound. Kathleen looked, and her face lit up. “He thinks you’re cute, too! And he’s just three blocks away.”

“Mom!”

“Well, it’s true. You are cute.”

“Dad, don’t encourage her.” Angie didn’t have trouble getting dates. What she had trouble with was keeping relationships. Any guy in Angie’s life had to play second fiddle to the phone. Out to dinner and a case came in—sorry, gotta go. In bed after a lovely wine-and-dine and a kid runs—sorry, but gotta go. Some guys would put up with Angie’s unpredictable workday for a time, but none stuck it out for the long haul.

So just as with Match.com, and eHarmony, and every set-up Angie’s friends had arranged, some Tinder guy would invariably find her long legs, raven hair, and green eyes attractive. They’d come up with some tactful (or not) way to compliment her sculpted figure and commend her for rocking jeans and an evening gown with equal aplomb. They’d appreciate how she could tackle a teenager twice her size and then cry at the end of Pitch Perfect, a movie she’d watch any time it was on. But they’d always, always, get tired of her phone.

The right guy was out there. Angie didn’t think he was on Tinder.

“Well, I’ll e-mail you your username and password. Just give it a try.”

“Your mother means well,” her father said.

“I think I’m a little jaded because of the job,” Angie admitted. “It’s eye-opening to see how much bad there is in the world. Between divorce and fighting over children, infidelity and cheating left and right, it’s hard. And it hasn’t gotten easier.”

“Maybe change careers.”

“I can’t walk away. I love it.”

“You love what’s hurting you,” Kathleen said. “Sounds dysfunctional to me.”

“Yeah, Mom. Well, love hurts.”

“Whatever you do, we’ll support you, you know that,” her father said.

Kathleen took hold of Gabriel’s hand. The gesture warmed Angie’s heart. This was what she wanted for herself some day. She’d been raised in a traditional, old-fashioned family, and after thirty-seven-years of marriage, Angie’s parents still held hands. They were always touching, or laughing, or looking at each other in a loving way. They argued, of course, but not with the sort of rage common among Angie’s clients. Gabriel and Kathleen DeRose had pedestrian disagreements, but nothing that caused lasting bitterness or resentment. As with lupus, there could be flare-ups followed by long periods of calm.

“Let’s just change the subject. How about that?” Angie said.

“Well, then ask me about the Arlington County Fair because that’s another story entirely,” Kathleen said with a roll of the eyes.

“You’re still doing that? I thought you resigned from the board last year.”