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“But you’re not even giving him a chance!”
“You’re not even giving me a chance!” I bawl, reaching the end of my rope. “I’ve only known I’m pregnant for two weeks, okay? It’s a lot to process, Didi. I’ll get through it, okay? Just give me some space!”
Didi sulks, picking at her fingertips with her nails.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I finally say. “I just think—wait. I think the UPS guys are here.”
Grateful for the distraction, I walk to the front door, smiling. The delivery driver rolls the hand truck over the threshold and levers the crates to an open space. He offers me a cocky smile and tips his hat when he leaves.
“See? I want some of that,” Didi complains when he’s gone.
“Some of what?” I ask distractedly.
“That glow,” she sniffs. “Everybody can see it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do,” she sighs with effort as she stands and hobbles over. “You’re glowing. As one does. When one is gestating.”
“Oh that’s a nice word—hey.”
She raises her eyebrows as I eye her purse.
“What,” she huffs defensively.
“I thought you were going to help me with this crate!”
“Mmmmmmm no,” she shakes her head. “I think you have it. I have to go to the pharmacy, like I told you.”
I just take a deep breath and nod. She’
s a grown woman. I can’t stop her. And she’s right, I don’t know what I’m talking about.
The paintings in the crate are a marvel. As soon as I unlatch the lid, I take a deep breath of the linseed oil. I just love that smell. I always have. I guess growing up with a carpenter for father, I learned to love all of these woodsy aromas.
Time slips away from me as I release each painting from its paper protection, then set them all on the floor, leaning against the walls. After a little bit of thought, I decide to swap one that is mostly violet for one that is mostly turquoise.
“You’re gonna love these, Didi,” I say out loud, before remembering she’s not here.
As I look around, I realize I can hear my phone vibrating in my purse and walk over to retrieve it. Scowling, I can see that I have fourteen new messages and three missed calls, all from Didi.
“Why did you call me three times?” I ask her when she picks up the phone.
“Did you read my text?”
“No, I just called you back! That is why we are talking right now! What do you need?”
I hear her take a breath before answering.
“I need you to come and get me,” she growls in a low voice. “They say if you do not come and get me, they’re going to call the police. Well, the one guy in town who has a badge, I guess. I don’t even think he has a gun. I don’t even think—”
“Didi! Focus!” I interrupt. “Come and get you from where?”
“The goddamn pharmacy, Joe,” she snarls. “Come and get me from pharmacy jail, okay?”
The phone goes dead in my hand and I just let it drop to my side. How could she have possibly gotten herself in trouble in the span of half a block?
Hustling down the street, I keep an eagle eye out for the busybodies and gossips that I know lurk behind every shop window. I haven’t exactly made the welcome wagon rounds since Didi and I got back. I've just kind of kept a low profile. I didn’t think that I would be back so soon, and I’m not quite ready to face everyone just yet.
