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“That son of bitch. After I told him…never mind. Can you drive? Should I come over? Where is he?” Leah goes into fight mode and I love her for it.
“It’s my fault. I kept something from him and I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t tell him,” I brokenly tell her.
“Abby, there’s nothing you could have kept from him that would make him leave you like this. Please come over. I don’t want you to be alone.” Leave it to my sister to have all the answers. Not even a chemotherapy treatment robbing her of her strength keeps her charging ahead.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Coughing for breath from my crying jag, I hang up the phone and force myself to get up off the floor. I walk through the kitchen to grab my sweater from the bedroom. On the counter, the file for Mr. Campbell lies open and scattered. My note that reads, ‘Mr. Campbell has confessed he’s the one who did this. How do I tell R?’ is stuck to the top set of documents. I peel the pink sticky note and crumple it up. I guess it doesn’t matter how I tell Roman now that he knows.
Leaving everything where it is, I grab the sweater, my keys, and purse. I try to get shoes on but realize I need to clean and bandage my foot. Another twenty minutes later and I’m getting in my car with flip-flops on, making the drive to Leah’s sedately. When I get up to her steps, she has the door open and her arms are waiting for me.
“Shhh. It’s going to be all right. I promise. Come on.” Again our roles have flipped and Leah is the big sister taking on all my hurts the way mom would have. She puts her arm around me and guides me into the condo. We shuffle into her bedroom and she pushes me down onto the bed. I should find it weird I’m lying in my sister’s bed, the one she now shares with my ex-boyfriend, but I’m in too much misery to care of the circumstances. It’s just a bed and I’m just too broken inside to care.
“It was awful, Leah. I didn’t tell him that my drunk driver case involved the man who killed his mother in an accident years ago.”
“Abby, you couldn’t have known that. Plus, we’ve got confidentiality ethics as lawyers.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing. Roman will come around once he realizes this, but until then, I don’t want you to beat yourself up about this. Please.” Leah forces me to lie down and cuddles up next to me. Protectively, my sister leans her arm over my body and pulls me close. Our hearts beat in rhythm, similar thumping rhythms until we both fall dreamlessly asleep.
* * * * *
“Abby, wake up. Come on, let’s go out.” Leah is pulling me awake from the comfort of the bed. I’m exhausted from the emotional ping-pong of Roman coming and going.
“Leah, what? What time is it?” I’m groggy as I push matted curls off my face.
“It’s after five o’clock.”
I look at the digital clock, the clothes I fell asleep in, and my bandaged foot. I slept for several hours and woke up like a freight train hit me hard and Leah the most chipper I’ve seen her in weeks.
My sister seems intent on dragging my sad ass about town. “I need a shower.”
“No time for that. Come on, I know this great little tapas place with the most incredible tequila sunrises.” She’s tugging the sheet from me with her thin arms and I let for fear I might hurt her accidentally.
This whole idea reeks of something uncharacteristic of her. Scratching my head, I ask the most important question. “Sis, can you even drink on chemo?”
She comes back around the bed, giving me a wry look, hands on her hips. “Abigail, live a little.” I suppose there is no time like the present then.
“All right, do we need a driver?” Reaching for my cellphone, which is void of messages from Roman, I remember I have Vinnie’s number and scroll through my contacts. He told me to call him anytime I needed a driver for something. I have no idea what my suddenly fun sister has in mind.
“I’ll make Lucas cart us around.” Shaking her head, she peeks out from the closet. “He loves driving my car.”
“Peachy,” I mumble, but Leah has already disappeared into her walk-in closet, tossing things from it in my direction.
“Here, put this on!” I grab the designer dress as it flies past me, flipping it over for a label.
“Leah, are you shitting me? This is your Herve Leger wrap dress.” I’d always loved this dress, but Leah had bought the plum colored dress to wear to one of dad’s holiday dinners with the intention to spite me. So I returned the one I bought, settling on a pink Christian Dior.
“Come on, you only live once! Get dressed. I have shoes you can wear with your busted foot.” I strip my top and shorts off, tugging the fitted dress over my underwear.
“Tell me again, what’s the plan?” My mind buzzes because usually I’m the irresponsible one making irrational choices, not Leah, but I decide to roll with it for tonight.
“Drinks and Tattoos!” Clucking my lips together, I realize this will be a long night of shenanigans.
“Can we start with dinner, maybe?” Far be it for me to be the voice of reason, but something about cruising LA for a tattoo parlor and alcohol seems like a bad idea. I’m not some old lady here, but given my sister is recovering from a chemotherapy treatment and my heart has been shattered hours earlier, I’m a little worried we might be overdoing things just a bit.
Lucas pulls up to the condo in my sister’s car and we drive off. An expensive dinner in the heart of LA fills our hungry bellies as we order several appetizers to start. Between the three of us, we are laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Leah is sweet and fun. Lucas is not quite the asshole I’ve come to know him to be in the past few weeks and actually seems to dote on my sister. It’s a weird dynamic, but we all seem to roll with it, content to enjoy the present.
“Oh. stop here…this is the place I looked up on the internet.” Leah is tapping Lucas’ arm to pull the car over. I’m sitting in the back, rubbing my throbbing foot, wondering why I didn’t just go to the emergency room for a tetanus shot. I’ll probably need one after the looks of this all-night tattoo parlor. A glowing sign buzzes open and another says Inked Dots—the name of the shop.
