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I look at her as if she’s speaking Martian. Then I look down at myself. I left everything at the restaurant.
“I forgot my phone.” The idea of returning to the restaurant draws another loud sob from me.
The woman squints at me, probably assessing the level of crazy she’s dealing with, and then pulls out her phone.
“Let me get you an Uber. Where are you going?” She clicks on the screen.
“I can’t accept that. I live in the Bronx, it’s too expensive. How will I pay you back?”
“Just give me your address and consider it my good deed for the day.” She beams at me, and her kindness hits me so hard I burst into tears again. “Oh, come on, it’s not a big deal. Why don’t you do something nice for someone tomorrow and we’ll start a chain of goodness.” She winks at me.
There is no amount of altruism that can undo the damage I’ve caused.
The car, paid for by a stranger, gets me home finally. The house feels empty, large and cold. A perfect dwelling for someone like me. I sit on the sofa. That’s all I’m capable of doing. The television drones in Mom’s room, but I suspect she’s asleep.
I sit there for a lifetime, the ticking clock counting down my demise. What the hell have I done? The question crosses my mind along with the other thousand unanswered questions freely roaming in my head, trying to anchor themselves in some sort of logic, welcoming the darkness.
I drop to my side, my legs dangling from the sofa and I close my eyes.
Shivers pull me back into reality. God, I need a blanket. I pat around myself, realizing I’m still on the couch. I must have fallen asleep. I sit up, with a vague aim to move to my bedroom.
What have I done? The question returns, and that’s when the reality hits me and I spring up.
Hushed voices sound somewhere in the house and the change of light confirms I must have slept all night. I stand up and join my mom and Clarissa, her nurse, in the kitchen.
“Did we wake you up? You must have been exhausted, you didn’t even make it upstairs. I thought you’d sleep in the city,” my mom says as she digs in her purse.
I probably no longer have anywhere to sleep in the city. Tears burn at that realization. I blink them away and try to sound normal.
“Are you leaving? What time is it?” I take a mug from the cupboard and pour coffee.
“I’m spending a day in that facility you want me to move into.”
I don’t even have the energy to argue the need for her to move there.
“Now, now, don’t make trouble, Mrs. Accardi, you’ll love it there,” Clarissa says and winks at me.
“Clarissa, could I borrow your phone? I left mine at work.”
She hands me her phone and starts arguing with my mother about wearing a more comfortable pair of shoes.
I’m exhausted, but my mission propels me into action. I abandon my coffee and rush upstairs. I sit on my bed while I log into my account to find the phone number, but as soon as I dial, I pace.
The phone rings and rings and I’m about to hang up when the voice I know so well comes alive on the other side of the line. The other side of the country. With no remorse or regret.
“What have you done?” Bile is bitter on my tongue when I spit the question at him.
I half expect him to deny it, but he doesn’t. Frederick launches into a detailed recounting of the extent of his sabotage and I listen, stunned by the satisfaction in his voice. He talks as if it was his right to wrong Massi.
Shocked, I sit silent, listening. Because that’s how it’s always been—he talked, sweet-talked, lied, and I listened. But back then I listened because my wounded soul was grateful for any attention. This time, I listen because I need all the details of his evil, so I can hopefully start repairing what he destroyed.
I severed all ties with him after the divorce. When he called me to offer his condolences after my father’s death, I didn’t think about it much. I just assumed he’d moved on and I appreciated he was thoughtful. But there he was, always with an ulterior motive.
“You used me for years,” he dares to accuse me. “I was good to you when you were a coward and ran away to California. And I helped you. I took care of you, and after all these years you go back to him?”
I almost drop the phone. This was a jealousy stunt? Catira’s inquiry that I foolishly assumed was gossip comes to my mind. But this time its shape is much more severe than just rumors.
There was gossip before Beaufort moved to LA that he’d been purposely jeopardizing their careers. Probably just jealousy rumors.
