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“Is it weird that I don’t know anyone else with narcolepsy?” I cross my arms, mirroring her.
“It’s like … one in two thousand people have it. You live in Birdville. Population: just under seven hundred. You do the math.”
“So you sleep all day?”
“I nap as needed.”
“And when you’re not napping, you write stories about Afina and Hermann. Is it possible your great grandmother made everything up? Is it possible he asked Afina to make a dress for my great grandmother Marian, and Afina let her imagination run wild? Jealous of Marian and her life? Jealous of the house he built for her and not Afina? Is it possible that what’s been passed down in your family is fictional?”
She snorts, and I try not to like her smile, but I do. I like everything about her. Or maybe I just like being in this attic again, sharing space with someone.
“It was love at first sight for Afina and Hermann.”
“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” I say, staring out the window over her shoulder.
“No?”
I return my gaze to her, ready to shake my head, but I don’t for some unexplainable reason. “Do you?”
Serena smiles. “I believe in chemistry. Feelings. Emotions. A look. A smile. Perfect words at the right moment.”
Words …
She continues, “I don’t think love is a culmination of anything. I don’t think it requires time. I think it’s a moment. The right one. No explanation. It doesn’t make sense. It’s just a mystery as old as time. People have been trying to define and redefine it forever. And much like life itself, no one really knows how long it will last. I mean … maybe forever. Maybe not. But who cares?Nowis as good as it ever gets.”
Words. She has damn good words. “When are you going to tell me why you were scared shitless at the idea of me calling the police the night you hit my mailbox?”
Serena eyes me for several seconds, an impeding frown just seconds from capturing her lips. “When are you going to tell me how you lost this house?”
I shake my head and chuckle. “Tit for tat?”
“Sure.” Serena wets her lips.
I stare at them too long before clearing my throat and averting my gaze to the plush white rug on the floor. “I have a gambling problem. I mean … I didn’t, but when my sister got sick, I couldn’t bear to watch my parents lose this house because of medical debt. I had a knack for winning. In hindsight, it was just dumb luck.”
Her nose wrinkles while she bites her lower lip. I kinda like it for some reason.
“They thought I was doing side jobs,” I continue. “But let’s be honest; it would have taken a ton of side jobs, and not giving Uncle Sam his cut, for me to have made a dent in the bills for those experimental treatments. I think Dad always knew I was doing something a little shady. And Mom didn’t blink or even take a moment to do any of the math. Every single one of us would have walked into a bank with a ski mask and a gun had we thought we could’ve gotten away with it. There’s really nothing you don’t do for people you love.”
Serena nods slowly, and a tiny flinch makes the muscles around her eyes twitch, but it’s gone as quickly as it happens.
“Emily surged into remission. Or so we thought. All that fighting … then boom! A fucking blood clot takes her. Just…” I pull in a long, shaky breath through my nose “…gone.”
“I’m so sorry,” Serena whispers.
I blow that same breath out my mouth. “I needed to feel like everything wasn’t lost. The gambling became an escape from the grief. Money … property … just … everything. It all felt so insignificant without Emily.” It takes a few moments of silence, silence for Emily, before I can look at Serena.
She quickly wipes her eyes.
Was she crying?
“Then my dad died. And I gambled away that pain too. I kept going until I lost everything.”
“And your mom never knew?” she whispers.
I shake my head. “Fate stepped in, and she moved to Germany before I lost the house. I think it would have destroyed her. Emily … my dad … then the house that had been in our family for generations.”
Resting her hands on the side of the desk, Serena’s gaze drops to her feet. “My husband died three years ago. He was my publicist. My lover. My best friend. He was the good morning kiss I miss more than anything. He was the warm embrace that lulled me into a peaceful slumber.” Glancing up, she offers a sad smile. “He died on Christmas. It destroyed me. We buried him, and days later I brought in the New Year with a lot of alcohol. In fact, I spent the following year drowning in alcohol. I ran my husband’s golf cart into the swimming pool. I wassointoxicated. My seventy-three-year-old neighbor saved my life.”
