Little Voices

A and I are sitting at Starbucks having a lovely juice/coffee and pumpkin loaf. It is snowing outside. There is holiday music playing. I have no pressing anything hanging over my head. At the table next to us, two women are having a pow-wow about how to best proceed with a school fundraiser. They are clearly headed down the wrong path. I contemplate saying something, and then take another bit of the pumpkin loaf. Yumm, pumpkin loaf.

They continue to bicker over what is clearly a bad idea. I sip my coffee. Not my problem. Not going to get involved. Not even my kid’s school. Yumm, coffee. OK, these woman are going to serious regret what they are about to do. I did that, last year. It so didn’t work. It was a flipping nightmare, in fact. It is my moral duty to step in and say something. I cannot let another human being suffer the way I did last year.

I turn to say something, and then I hear a voice inside my head, that sounds remarkably like Lovely Friend’s. “DON’T YOU DARE GET INVOLVED. YOU ARE CERTIFIABLE IF YOU GET INVOLVED.” And so I walk out the door, sipping my coffee.

But I still feel guilty.

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