For Fox Sake

Chapter 9

Ryan

“She’s having an off day.” Bernie offers me a sympathetic wince before winding her arm through mine as we walk toward Mom’s room.

“I’m glad Ari didn’t come with me then.” It’s one of her summer camp days. Normally she loves going, but she was extra clingy today.

I couldn’t bring her with me though. For one, I already paid for the day camp. For two, it was only a half day anyway. Also, I wanted to see Mom without having to worry if Ari would witness a bad day.

“The light in the bathroom is out so Jake might be in there replacing it. He’s almost done though.”

Jake.

Damn.

I haven’t seen him since Ari’s party on Saturday. I’ve been avoiding him. After Ari interrupted us the other night when we were having that charged sort of moment, he hightailed it out of there like he was being chased by a swarm of killer wasps.

Did he just get caught up, like I did, but then panicked and ran? Maybe he realized he was about to kiss a single mom with no money, no real future outside of Dull, Oregon, and chocolate cake stains on her shirt.

Maybe he wasn’t going to kiss me at all. Did I misread the situation?

Possibly. It’s been a while since I actually... liked someone enough to care.

He’s been through so much. He’s imperfect in a way that’s so perfect. Which means I’m sure I’ll find out something terrible about him.

Or he’ll find something terrible about me.

I’m almost thirty, and other than raising an amazing child, I have nothing to show for my life.

I have a degree I can’t use, a dying parent I can’t take care of, and a vagina that hasn’t had company in almost five years.

Pathetic.

“Did I tell you how I overheard him asking about you?”

“What? Oh, right.” I had forgotten. She was going to tell me something at Ari’s party. “What did he say?”

“He was asking Elaine about you, and Mia, and your mom. Random stuff, totally digging for intel. I told you he’s into you.”

What kind of questions was he asking? Is that weird?

We reach Mom’s door, and I can’t ask her for more details, because Mom is agitated, her voice rising as I enter the room. “I don’t know you. Where’s Anderson? Why are you here? Are you trying to steal from me?”

My heart sinks. Anderson was my father.

“Hey, Mom.” I stride over to her bedside and take her hand from where she’s smacking her palm on the bed rail.

Her fingers clench around mine, her eyes pleading. “Ryan. Where is your father? It’s almost dinner time. Is Mia playing outside? You need to make sure she doesn’t run around too much.”

“I’ll grab the nurse to see if they can give her some meds,” Bernie murmurs before disappearing out the door.

I swallow back the lump in my throat and sit in the seat beside her. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll watch Mia. It’s all going to be fine.”

She reaches over and pats the top of my hand. “You’re such a good sister. I don’t know what we would do without you looking after our baby.” She leans back in the bed and shuts her eyes.

This whole conversation is the story of my childhood. Most of my days revolved around making sure my baby sister Mia didn’t overexert herself and send her heart into a tailspin, an impossible task when we were both young and wanting to play with all the other kids.

I resented it sometimes when I was assigned to watch Mia instead of being able to run around with my friends. Never outwardly. I shoved it down inside because Mia suffered enough with the forced inactivity, not to mention the innumerable doctor and hospital visits where she was poked and prodded and tested. I would give up a million summer days for one more hour with her.

“Are you okay?”

My head shoots up and I lock eyes with Jake, hovering outside the bathroom door, his concerned gaze fixed on me. “I’m fine.”

I’m not fine.

My mom is dying, slowly. I’m exhausted.

His eyes search mine, brow creasing in concern. “If you need anything, anything at all... let me know.” He disappears out the door.

I turn back to Mom.

Maybe I’m imagining things, seeing what I hope for every day, but her eyes are clear, and her gaze is direct. “You’re doing a great job with Ari. Mia would be so pleased.”

My mouth pops open. “Mom?” I whisper.

“Come here, baby.” She uses one hand to scoot in her bed, making a space, and then opens her arms.

She’s so frail, I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to be held by my mom. Any time could be the last. I carefully slide in next to her, leaning lightly against her shoulder.

Her hand covers mine. “I know you miss Mia. I miss her too.”

“I know.” I shut my eyes.

For a minute, we just sit there. I commit the sensations to memory. The scent of her strawberry shampoo, her fragile arm brushing against mine, the sound of her breath moving in and out.

“Can you smell it?”

I open my eyes and tilt my head toward her. “Smell what?”

“Your father’s cigar. He used to smoke one every time we brought home Mia from the hospital. Do you remember?”

“Yes.” Sort of. I was five when he passed away.

She breathes in slowly, then out, and chuckles. “He tried to hide it from me. I used to get so angry with him.” She’s not mad now, humor wreathing her face. “I’ll never forget that smell, tobacco, leather, and spices.” Her nose wrinkles.

I smell nothing.

She sucks in a gasp, squeezing my hand. “Oh, she’s here. I was hoping she would show up when you came to visit.” She waves toward the corner of the room. “She never speaks. She just waves.”

“Who does?” I follow her gaze. There’s nothing there, only a framed picture of a sailboat and an unused outlet on the wall.

Goose bumps prickle over my skin, the glow in her smile and focus in her gaze trapping me in the moment.

“It’s Mia, of course.”

My throat tightens. She really sees her.

Maybe she is hallucinating, but the air is charged, electric, the moment itself both spine-tingling and somehow sacred.

“She is always so beautiful. She looks exactly like she did when she was pregnant with Ari, all glowing.” Her head tilts. “Who’s your friend?” she calls out. Her lips purse and she points and then looks at me. “You see them? The other girl with her?”

I shake my head.

Her smile dims. “They’re gone now. Don’t worry, Mia will be back. She’s been here every day. We’ll see her again tomorrow.” She’s already settled back, her eyes closing.

Some of the nurses have told me stories about end-of-life visions, but I’ve never experienced it for myself. It’s sort of eerie, and sort of awe-inspiring. I’m not sure what to think about any of it.

I’m emotionally drained by the time I step off the elevator into the lobby an hour later. I head for the front doors, then freeze. Shane and Samantha are walking in.

Panic floods through me. I can’t deal with them right now.

I glance around.

I have nowhere to go.

Unless I go to the bathroom.

Keeping my head down, I cut to the left, walking fast, but not too quickly. Don’t want to draw attention to myself.

I hold my breath until I’ve reached the recess in the wall where the restrooms are. Once I’m out of sight, I stop and peer back around the corner.

Shane and Samantha are standing in front of the elevator, holding hands, making quiet conversation.

Probably here to see the baby doctor.

They disappear onto the elevator, and I lean back, resting against the wall for a second and blowing out a breath. I’ll just recover here for a second. Not moving sounds great. My mind plays the tape forward, contemplating everything that’s still left in my day, picking up Ari, cleaning out a rental, dinner, bath time, cleaning and checking the mail and paying bills and?—

Jake stalks past the bathrooms, his back to me.

I’m too surprised to say anything at first. He’s walking with his gaze pointed straight ahead, his posture oddly stiff.

Normally, his movements are so loose, smooth, and unhurried. I don’t know, something seems off.

He stops at a door at the end of the hall and reaches into his pocket, keys jangling in his hand. He inserts a key into the lock.

Nothing happens.

He jiggles it, then curses something under his breath.

“You okay over there?”

He spins around. “Ryan?”

I wave. “Hey.”

“I-I didn’t see you.”

“I noticed.”

He glances down at the keys in his hand. “I grabbed the wrong key ring. What are you doing over here?” His eyes roam over my position, lurking in the bathroom alcove.

“I came to visit Mom and then I had to—” I lift my hand to point at the bathroom behind me, then drop it. What’s the point in lying? I’ve already unloaded on him enough times that he shouldn’t be surprised by anything at this point. “I saw my ex and his pregnant fiancée, and I was hiding. If you want to know the truth of it.”

His brows lift. “That sounds like a story.”

I glance down the hall to the elevator where they disappeared moments ago. It slides open and I do a double take as lo and behold, Shane and Samantha step off. And they’re heading this way.

Panic races through me.

“Why are they back? They’re coming this way.”

I spin around. I’ll hide in the bathroom. But what if she came back down here to use this one? Maybe the one on the Ob-Gyn floor is full. Shit.

“Hey, come on. We can wait them out in here.” Jake tugs me through a door between the two restrooms.

I catch a glimpse of open cabinets stacked with toilet paper and a mop before he shuts us inside and the room turns black, except for a thin bright line under the door.

It’s a tight space. We aren’t touching, but Jake’s presence, the heat of him, is a substantial force behind me. My back faces him. I lean toward the door, tilting my ear toward any possible sound.

Ears straining, I catch only the murmur of distant voices.

“Did she go in the bathroom?” I whisper. “I didn’t hear the door. You keep the hinges oiled too well.”

“Are you going to tell me why we’re hiding from your ex?” He shifts behind me, his shirt brushing my arm.

I let my forehead fall to the door with a soft thump. “I met Shane in college.”

“In Ithaca?”

I nod. “He moved to Dull with me after Mia died. I was so grateful at the time.” I rub my temple. I thought I was so lucky to have someone willing to give up everything and move across the country for me. Which was one of the reasons it took me so long to drop him. If it hadn’t been for Ari, I might have married the asshole. I was so stupid. “We were together for four years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yeah. We broke up because he didn’t want kids.”

He frowns. “But his fiancée is?—”

“Yeah. She’s pregnant.” I wave a hand. “It doesn’t matter. She can have him.”

He’s silent for a few long seconds. “So, you broke up because he couldn’t handle raising a kid that wasn’t his?”

“According to him, it wasn’t that Ari wasn’t his, it was that he didn’t want kids at all. Except now he’s having a baby and is all super stoked about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be a dad...”

He didn’t want me.

It hurts. Not because I want him back, but because... what’s so bad about me?

“He’s an ass. You are way too good for him. You dodged a bullet.” His voice, low, calm, and assured, is as comforting as his words, like a soothing stroke down my spine.

“It was easier after we broke up, like I had one less child to take care of, one less person to worry about. I don’t want to see him, or Samantha. They’re difficult to talk to. It’s exhausting. Maybe that sounds dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.”

“I don’t miss Shane, what I miss is... the idea of having a partner in life, you know? I thought he was someone I could grow old with. Someone to laugh with, cry with, share in the joys and the ups and the downs of parenting, and life in general. The exciting parts and the mundane day-to-day stuff.”

Not to mention the fact that I would die to get laid. I haven’t been with anyone since Shane.

Warm hands cover my shoulders, the heat of his chest brushing my back. “Hey. You’ll have that someday.”

Slowly, I turn around to face him.

His hands drop and then lift, sliding up my arms and cupping my face.

I wish I could read his expression. It’s too dark to make out anything beyond the outline of his form.

“You’re incredible, and someday, some lucky guy is going to love doing all the exciting and boring things with you.”

Did he mean that to sound sexy? Because it did. Is he willing to participate in some exciting things with me? Because I am more than ready.

But I don’t say that. I can’t even think it.

I cover his fingers with mine. “Jake.”

My phone dings and I jump away, banging my elbow into the door, the handle digging into my hip.

“Shit. I have to go. I have to pick up Ari.”

“Okay. Maybe I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

I flee the storage closet like my ass is on fire.

* * *

“I’m hungry.”

I finish wiping down the entertainment center and glance over at Ari. “I have a cereal bar in my purse.”

She slumps back on the couch, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. “I don’t want that.”

I grab the cleaning spray and move to the side table, squirting a couple of times before wiping it down. “I also have some nuts and dried fruit.”

She grimaces. “You never have any good food.”

I blow out a breath. When Ari is hungry, nothing will make her happy. I could put a giant cake and ice cream and a real live unicorn in front of her, and she would find something to complain about.

“I’m almost done with the dusting. I still need to vacuum. Then we can go home, and I’ll make a pizza. How does that sound?” She loves pizza.

“Ugh.” She falls over on the couch, covering her eyes with one arm flung over her face. “Fiiiiiine.”

I do have that pizza in the back of the freezer still, don’t I? A concern for a later time.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re pulling into the driveway.

Ari is still cranky, complaining the whole five-minute drive home about how her shirt is itching her, her feet hurt, her eyes are dry, the house is too dark, and why can’t we get a cat anyway?

I am so ready to get her into bed so I can breathe for a few minutes, and then we can start this whole dog-and-pony show all over again tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be better. It has to be.

Inside, I get Ari a glass of milk and then dig around in the freezer.

Please tell me it’s in here somewhere. I move the box of chicken nuggets to one side.

“Momma, I spilled.”

I wave a hand behind me. “Get the cleaning spray from under the sink and wipe it up.”

Her footsteps shuffle against the linoleum, then stop.

I continue my search through a variety of frozen culinary delights like taquitos and peas and—is that bagel bites? Those are pizza-adjacent, right? I can sell these to her, maybe have a less volcanic reaction in my hungry child when I have to tell her the actual pizza is unavailable.

“Momma?”

The pizza is definitely not in here. Crap.

“Momma?”

“Yeah, Baby, it’s the bottle with the blue liquid.”

“It’s wet all over.”

“What?” I spin around.

Water is leaking out of the open cupboard and dripping onto the floor.

“Shit!”

I fall to a crouch in front of the sink and start yanking items out of the way. “Go get a towel,” I order Aria.

She runs away and returns with a small washcloth, handing it over triumphantly.

I take a deep breath. “Maybe get a bigger one?” She’ll come back with a dish towel next, no matter what I say. “You know, actually, will you go grab the red toolbox out of the garage?”

I know she knows exactly what and where that is.

“And a flashlight!” I call out as she disappears around the corner.

I peer into the dimness inside the cabinet, trying to locate the source of the leak and sigh.

I need to cut the water to the house. Maybe I can have Ari hold the towel to the leak, while I run and do that? Ugh.

These are the times I really wish I had an extra pair of adult hands.

Can this day get any suckier?