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I know Elowyn means well, and she only wants what’s best for me, but I don’t think she understands just how hard it is to detach from my mom. We’re trauma bonded. All of these thoughts make it impossible for me to even consider sleep. Letting myself just sit here tossing and turning will drive me insane. I have to do something productive to take my mind off of things.
Slipping out of bed, I grab Elowyn’s laptop and sit at the kitchen counter. I already have an email from a prospective client asking about pricing, and it’s the exact sort of thing I can lose myself in for the next hour. I think about her business too, and how well it’s been going for her, and that gives me hope that this new side hustle could go well for me too. No matter how bleak things feel right now, there is a future out there for us that we can look forward to.
One step at a time.
Because I’m never, ever letting her go without a fight.
Chapter Nineteen
Elowyn
“Can you hear me right now?” Eden asks, carefully setting her fork down on her napkin so it makes a perfectly parallel line with the edge of the table. “Or am I simply talking to the arugula?”
“I’m sorry?” I’ve been watching my spoon make circles in my lentils and broth for the better part of the last thirty seconds. I already picked out the soggy kale. I try to replay what she may be talking about, but I can’t recall the last thing she said. “I’m totally out of it, Eden. Late night at work last night, left my brain at half-capacity.”
Hanging out with Eden is always a bit odd. Ensley goes so far out of her way to make everyone around her feel comfortable, it’s like being out on the town with a ray of sunshine. Eden on the other hand… ugh. She’s polite and her intentions are good, but she’s so stiff and cold that I find myself constantly smiling extra hard at everyone around us just to make up for her. Not that she isn’t nice. She says please and thank you, and she tips well. But I can’t remember the last time I saw a genuine smile accidentally cross her lips, or even heard her laugh really hard at something. Ever since she came back from Europe after breaking up with her fiancé, she hasn’t been the same.
She didn’t even ask where I wanted to eat lunch. She picked the place that was exactly equidistant between my place and hers and had the highest average rating on more than one app. It took her about thirty seconds to decide what she wanted to eat, so I panicked and followed suit, ending up with a salad that I kind of like and a soup I’m not too sure about.
“No kidding,” she muses, arching an eyebrow as she sips diet soda from her straw. “You do not seem your usual self. This kind of attitude will not serve you well academically. I was asking if you had the chance to look at the syllabus for the math class. I realize that this year’s is not yet available, but I know that the professor still has last year’s posted on their site. I am certain that the content cannot change that much from one year to the next, and it would do you well to familiarize yourself with what will be expected of you. Get out in front of it, so to speak.”
God, she sounds like sheisthe professor.
“That’s a great idea. I’m sure I can find some time to check it out next time I have a day or two off.” I haven’t heard anything from either her or Eden about the class since they ambushed me at the house. After everything that’s happened with Weston, it’s been the last thing on my mind. I was kind of hoping the entire situation would disappear. “Is that shirt new? I really like that color with your complexion.”
My flimsy effort at changing the subject fails the second I make the attempt. Eden just blinks at me, unmoving and silent, like a small, serious lizard. She takes another sip of soda before continuing. “I have also narrowed down your prospective tutors, after some lengthy correspondence with the mathematics department. I can share their contact information with you if you would like. Maybe you’ll find some sort of chemistry with one of them.” She pauses for a moment, dramatically, her long, stick-straight, dark hair falling like a silky halo around her face. My sister is stunning to look at with her cerulean blue eyes, framed by long, sooty eyelashes and flawless porcelain skin, but she’s never had the warmest personality. People just don’t take to Eden. Despite her many amazing qualities, they have to get to know her to like her, usually over the course of years. “Though that does fall under another department.”
I watch as the corner of her lip twitches slightly upward. It isn’t a real grin or anything, but I know my sister well enough to understand. She was attempting to make a joke. I snort at her turn of phrase in spite of myself, and it lightens the mood for both of us. “Thank you, Ensley. Really. You’re doing so much for me.”
I taste the salad again and decide to add a sprinkle of salt from the shaker on the table. “What have you been up to?”
“The same.” She shrugs. “The account I’m managing for the Laredo Firm has remained stable. They’re pleased. My superiors are pleased. Nothing exciting. Have you begun accumulating your tax documents yet? The season does approach much faster than one anticipates each year. I would be more than willing to check things over for you. Dot your I’s and cross your T’s, as they say.”
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” I almost choke on a mouthful of lettuce and feta in my hurry to get the thought out. I’m handling the logistics side of the business as well as I possibly can, but the finance side has left me a bit baffled, and lately, I’ve gotten a little scared of the IRS. And they’re probably a little scared of my sister. “I started a bit of a side hustle recently, and I think I’ve probably hit the income level where I need to be doing something about it. I have no idea how to file any of this or what I should be keeping. Obviously, I have receipts and invoices for everything, but I need you to start pointing me in a direction.”
Wiping my hands on my jeans, I pull my phone from the depths of my purse and open my website.
“I can look that over for you. Email them to me.” Leaning over the table, Eden watches as I scroll through the various pages on my site. Her brows knit in thought, then relax as she does that tiny almost grin with the corner of her mouth. Satisfied, she leans back into her chair and crosses her arms. “Cute hobby. A nice diversion from barmaiding, I can imagine. Lord knows, all of us would like to see you quit that gig for safety’s sake alone. I admire your initiative, little sister. If you can apply that same energy to your mathematics studies, then there is nothing stopping you from finally obtaining the pharmacy degree you rightfully deserve. You had what—three semesters left? If you let me look at your course load, I am sure that I can finagle a summer session and have you finished within a year. And then you won’t have to worry about supplementing your income with little hobbies like this.”
Her words sting. I have to remind myself that this is her way of being supportive. Eden wouldn’t entertain anything that doesn’t earn her as much money as she feels like she deserves. She doesn’t do things for love or fun, only for dollars and cents. She wants me to make more money, simple as that. And the fact that she thinks I’m both capable and deserving of a career in something like pharmaceutical medicine says that she thinks highly of me.
I just wish she could consider for a moment what would make me happy, or how I feel about this “little hobby.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” I sigh, faking a smile as I push my plate to the side. “Screw a side hustle, right? I have plans.”
*****
I spend the drive back to the apartment thinking about the news I didn’t tell her—the contract I signed at the beginning of the week. A multi-state bank chain has put me in charge of corporate gifts for big new clients for the next year. Just the initial signing bonus is more than I make in a month at the bar. My hobby isn’t so little after all. As nice as it would be to have someone in my family be proud of me for something I chose myself, I could tell from the tone of our conversation that she just wouldn’t understand. I don’t know how I’m going to juggle this and pharmacy school, and I don’t know if I want to. It’s a decision I haven’t made yet and one that I’m not sure I’m capable of making without disappointing a lot of people in the process.
Which is why I keep putting it off.
Before heading upstairs, I swing by the mailroom. I’m supposed to be getting a package from the bank in the next few days, some note cards with their letterhead on them to fill out by hand to be placed in the gift packages. Right as I manage to unlock my mailbox, I’m interrupted by Terrance, our property manager.
He smiles as he approaches. “Hey, Elowyn, right? Broken lock, second floor?”
I nod in response, rifling through the stack of catalogs and junk mail clogging my box before getting to the large envelope from the bank.
“Weston’s been staying with you, right? The guy from 204?”
