Monday, January 29, 2007
There is only one therapist who works in this new building where I am now, A. We see her wandering through to the kitchen once in a while, but that's about it. Today, she stopped to say hi, and Perfect J mentioned, "Oh, was that your name I saw in the paper?"

A's face went completely flat, blank. "What?"

Perfect J lowered her voice. "In the paper. Did you get a divorce?"

A went paper-white. "Um. They put that in the paper?"

"Sure, any court-related thing is a part of the public record."

"Oh. And... people read that?" she whispered.

"Well... I do."

"Oh. I didn't really want people at work to know about it."

And I spoke up then, trying to sort of ease it away from her a little. "Well, being that we deal with nothing but crisis, we read the obituaries all the time. And when my husband worked at the high school, he was always reading the crime reports to see which of his students wouldn't be in school the next day."

A just sort of wandered away, shell-shocked. Whoops.