Fool Me Twice

28

Jesse was sitting at his desk, silently staring out the window, when Molly came in and sat down.

“What’s wrong,” she said.

“Nothing.”

“Come on. Out with it.”

Jesse swiveled his chair around and looked at her.

“There’s nothing wrong.”

Molly didn’t say anything.

“Sometimes I think it’s not worth it.”

“What’s not worth it?”

“The job. It’s not worth it.”

“Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we?”

“Here I’m trying to figure out what can be done to assist this young woman . . . this child, really . . . who might just as well be standing in the middle of the street screaming ‘Help me,’ and all I get is resistance.”

Molly didn’t say anything.

“Carter Hansen tells me to leave the girl alone because it’s bad for business. Aaron Silver says to lay off because her father is his biggest contributor. And the father tells me to name my price.”

“You mean he offered you a bribe?”

“Yes.”

“He actually told you to name your price?”

“He did.”

“How much did you ask for?”

Jesse looked at her.

“She nearly killed herself,” he said.

“What else?”

“That’s not enough?”

“There’s something else. I know it.”

“The water commissioner is accusing me of persecuting him and now won’t talk to me.”

“William Goodwin thinks you’re persecuting him?”

“Yes.”

“The little midget?”

“‘Little midget’ is redundant.”

Molly didn’t say anything.

“And it’s escalating. For the life of me I can’t understand why. I’m telling you, Molly, it’s not worth it.”

“So you are feeling sorry for yourself.”

“It’s a thankless job.”

Molly didn’t say anything.

“Exhausting, too.”

“Why don’t you do what you always do when you’re feeling sorry for yourself?”

“What’s that?”

“Go home and drink half a bottle of scotch.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“So then it’s not so bad.”

Jesse looked at her.

“Time was all kinds of stuff set you off,” she said. “The job. Jenn. Yourself. You’re better now.”

Jesse shrugged.

“Don’t shrug. You are.”

“It still makes me crazy.”

“This job would make anybody crazy. But you’re good at it. You’re graced with the rare gift of compassion. You actually care. Which is admirable. And people care about you, Jesse.”

“Including you?”

“Especially me.”

Jesse smiled.

Molly stood.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home and feed my family.”

“Thanks, Molly.”

“You’re a good man, Jesse,” she said.

She sauntered out of the office only to turn around in the doorway.

“I knew it,” she said.

“Knew what?”

“That it was redundant. Sometimes I just like to amuse myself.”