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Something in my eyes must have given away my thought process, because her breathing changed. Her breasts puffed out with heavy breaths. The air became charged as we stared each other down.
After another beat I stepped aside to let her pass.
Becka stomped all the way out the door to the car. My eyes glued to her ass the whole time.
* * *
My attention stayed focused out the window as I drove, trying to give Becka the impression that I wasn’t listening to her phone conversations.
The first call she made was to her grandmother’s nursing home. Asking for a woman named Rose. Her face lit up at the sound of the woman’s voice on the other end.
When she asked about her grandmother’s well being, her nose scrunched, eyes turning watery. It was obvious she missed her grandmother very much, but didn’t ask to speak to her in person, which made me curious.
I mentally kicked myself for not asking in more detail about her grandmother. I felt the gesture would have gone a long way in Becka’s book.
From what I could tell the woman on the other end relayed good news, causing Becka to sigh with relief every few minutes.
Then Becka shocked the hell out of me when she told this, Rose lady, that she already had thoughts about moving out to Boston. It was not the plan we had disused. The gangster in me immediately jumped to negative conclusions.
Is she trying to set off red flags? My hands twitched to reach out and snatch the phone away. But she had already proved herself loyal. If I was ever going to earn her trust I needed to give some as well. I held mine, while Becka waited with bated breath for the woman’s response.
Whatever the woman said had a smile spreading across Becka’s face. “Thank you, Rose. For everything.” Her voice was bittersweet and full of affection.
After the nursing home was the answering service Becka used. She informed them to contact all her clients and push back appointments for another three weeks. Adding that people might want to start looking for a new therapist altogether.
A few other calls to people were short to say the least. No one seemed overly concerned or disappointed that Becka wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Ouch.
When she ended the last call and exhaled a loaded breath it twisted my insides. Her face had fallen, fingers mindlessly twirling the phone in her hands.
We dove on quietly. Hearing her cut at the strings of her old life was harder than I anticipated. She’d kept her voice pleasant with everyone and no one had been the wiser, but after each phone call I could feel her melancholy slowly fill the cab like smoke. To the point I started choking on it.
I wanted to say something, but what could I possibly say that would make a difference.
Good job on giving up your life so casually. You are a great actress. At least there was only a few people to call. Nothing came to mind that didn’t sound insulting or useless.
I decided to go in a different direction.
“How is your grandmother?” She looked at me for the first time since getting in the car.
“She is doing well.”
“Was she asleep?”
Her brow pinched. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Because you didn’t ask to speak with her.”
Becka turned to look out the window, seeming to restrain her initial reaction. “Oh. Um… she has dementia.” She turned back to me. “She doesn’t remember anyone anymore. That’s why I had to put her in a home, because she was getting worse. I couldn’t give her all the care she needed.” I could see her heart splintering in her eyes. “She wanted to go. So that I wouldn’t be so burdened. I visited her everyday. It became very hit and miss for the days she remembered me. Then one day even those stopped.” She gazed into her lap, picking at the hem of her dress.
“I’m sorry, Becka.”
“I wanted to be the one to take care of her. I didn’t want to put her in a home. It broke my heart.” Her last words came out a whisper.
Damn.What the hell do you say to that? Even if I was a man who knew how to comfort, what does a person say in a situation like that? Before I could come up with anything she changed the subject. Shaking loose the sadness weighing her down.
“So when we get there, we don’t know each other, right?”
I growled, frustration at the earlier conversation rising to the surface. “Yes.”
