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“Aren’t you the cutest little, baby?” Alba made funny sounds at the dog like it was a baby. It was ridiculous, but also quite endearing. She set the puppy on my lap and went back behind the counter.
“Do you think they’ll date?” She asked; I was still stuck on her comment earlier about how she deserved better. There was a story behind her words, and I wanted to know what it was.
Ignoring her question but unable to ignore the quip about Vanessa deserving it, I asked her what she meant.
“What do you mean?” I finally turned away from the window to face Alba.
“Sir?” She looked confused, so I clarified.
“She deserved it, after everything?’ What does that mean?”
She looked out the window like she should not be telling me. But she was going to anyway because I knew that Alba never shied away from the opportunity to gossip.
She had a boyfriend. I don’t exactly know what happened. But he broke up with her the day she lost her old job. Dick move, right?
“So, yeah, she was heartbroken. It looks like Sebastian is helping her get over that hurdle.” She turned back to them and had a dreamy smile that irritated me.
I could not attribute whatever made her sad to a broken heart. It seemed like it was deeper than that. I’d seen her crying in the woods. She would not be moving on so fast if she was so in love with her ex. I’d once walked past her bedroom and heard the unmistakable sounds of her sobs at night, so I knew she cried herself to sleep.
No, it was more than that.
I didn’t mention any of it to Alba, of course. I was silent as she handed me the glass of green liquid.
“She’s such a sweet soul, Vanessa. You could tell. And she does not seem to have a lot of friends. Being with Sebastian would be good for her.”
Alba’s words leave a sour taste in my mouth. So much so that the green juice tasted like shit in my mouth. Angered by her words but undoubtedly unable to tell her the reason for my ire, I set the half-drunken juice on the counter and began wheeling away from the kitchen to my study.
“But sir, you haven’t finished your drink?”
“Pour it away. I’ve drunk enough. And send my dinner to my study.” I snap at her before I leave. She would probably think I had the temperament of a hormonal pregnant woman.
It was not something she wasn’t used to.
That evening, I was standing in front of a shelf with the help of my cane. My therapist had told me to stand on my feet more often to regain back my motor skills. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but I was doing it, anyway.
Sitting down in this wheelchair for months humbled me somewhat not to take my body for granted.
I was trying to grab a book from the shelf when the door knock interrupted me. I asked her to come in without giving it another thought because I thought it was Alba.
When I heard the soft gasp when the door was opened, I knew instantly who it was.
“You’re standing.” Her raspy voice comes out, stating the obvious, and with effort, I turn back to face her using my cane. Her eyes were wide as saucers, and she was staring at my thighs.
“No shit.” I deadpan. But her wide-eyed smile did not wane. She approached me gingerly, setting the tray on my desk.
I did not know she was still smiling, glancing at my face and down at my legs.
“My therapist says it’ll help my motor skills.” My voice is deadpan and void of emotion.
I see the surprise in her eyes, as well as the self-doubt.
We’d come to some truce the past few days since she’d gotten me Beanie. It has been a while since I was cold to her, and me doing it now suddenly, out of the blue, meant something was wrong.
I knew it. But she didn’t.
“Did something happen? Is Beanie okay?”
“You know, getting me a half-blind dog just because you feel what? Pity, for me, is not going to earn you the points you think it will.”
