I ran out of the room, everybody looking at me, including the teacher. After that, I heard Missy yelling from the room down the hall after me.“Sherrie! Stop!”“Leave me alone Missy! I don’t want to talk to you! Just leave me alone! Go away!”“Sherrie, I am not going anywhere, you know that. We need to talk.”“No we don’t. I don’t think I will ever be able to talk to you again!”“You are talking to me now!”I turned and looked at Missy, who had finally caught up with me and said, “Because you are making me talk to you. Just let me go, Missy. Please?”“No! You can run to the bathroom, but I am going to follow you. Sherrie, I am sorry I said what I said, but you know it’s true also.”“God, Missy, you don’t know how to listen do you? I want to be alone!”“Sherrie, don’t avoid what I said. I want to talk because I want you to know that it does not bother me. I think it’s okay.”I was actually stunned for a minute. Missy knew it also and said, “Sherrie, come on, let’s get out of the hall,” and she. I was already in waters well above my head, with my life recently in dire peril twice—I had no doubt at all that, Cesar Romero's promises notwithstanding, I'd have been dead a split second after handing him the flash drive he was after—and I needed to be at the peak of my game, not enmired in the marshes of self-doubt.So for now I was keeping my plan firmly under wraps. If the key element, the one I was counting on and around which everything else revolved, proved out, then I could reconsider. I could even abort at that point, with whatever obscure satisfaction I could glean from the fact that my idea was at least viable, and move in another direction. But I needed the confidence that at least a possible resolution could give me.Monday evening was the nadir for me. With little option I had drinks and dinner with Doug—he and I were the only guests left in the place—and even joined him for an after-dinner digestif. Just one; I firmly begged off when he ordered a refill and seemed ready.
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