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“I will be,” I say. “I… get really bad anxiety.”
He yanks me into his arms. I feel safe here, calm, and I close my eyes as I inhale the scent of him, balling his shirt, feeling like I’m in danger. I know I’m not, but I can’t help but to think about it. He hums “Lovely Day” by Bill Withers.
“I love that song. When I was in the hospital, I used to hear someone sing it to me when I slept most of the day.”
When I glance up at him, he looks at me with sad eyes, and I don’t know what’s going on with him. He continues to hum the song, and I relax.
“You remembered.”
My eyes widen, and shock filters through me. “You came to visit me in the hospital?”
He nods. “Why are you surprised?”
“My father never mentioned it.”
“Why would he?”
“Were you the one who sent me lilies?”
He doesn’t reply, stroking my shoulder again.
“Why did you send me flowers, and why did you come see me?”
“Because I wanted to.” He exhales, annoyed. “The doctors didn’t know whether you were going to live or die, so I spent time with you.”
“You barely know me,” I whisper.
He tilts my chin for me to glance at him, and I gaze into his uncertain eyes.
“I know you love to paint landscapes when you’re not drawing clothing. You love blues and jazz music. Before the accident, you loved to play in the rain, and you step out of the office to cry. You visit your mother every chance you can, and you leave positive notes for the co-workers in the break room. I know more about you than you think.”
I don’t know what to say, and the silence eats up between us.
He goes back to humming the song. When my anxiety eases up a bit, I ask, “Why did you decide to work at Risqué?”
I sit up to face him.
“Well… my father wanted me to take over it because it adds to our legacy and gives me a chance to be on the board. But it’s draining the fuck out of me.” He rubs the back of his head. “Why did you move to New York City, besides for your career?”
I tap my finger against my chin. “Well… I need something new to focus on. My father wanted me to move to Florida and start a life there, and I couldn’t leave my mother alone without family.”
“Oh… Sorry about you mother, I truly am.”
The rain dies down, and the fog eases up until I see people walk again.
“I couldn’t bear being around Nicole and my father for what they did to my mother. The car accident was his fault, and I blame him.”
I’ve never admitted this out loud to anyone, not even to my father, because I didn’t want to be a bitch more than I already am to him.
“Why?”
I take a fry and pop it in my mouth. “Because she found out he was leaving her for Nicole a few hours before the accident.”
“Fuck.”
“He claims he didn’t cheat on my mom, but I don’t know if he’s telling the truth. Once he figured out he didn’t love her, he left her for someone younger, prettier.” I grip the edge of the table as my knuckles turn white.
We’re quiet for a while, and I get lost in my own thoughts.
