Chapter 1 #2
She shifted in the bed a little. “I ain’t much to see right now.” Her eyes darted to the back of the room. “Monica let me come out the house in a bonnet, no earrings or lipstick.”
“Well, it was a bit of a medical emergency,” Monica replied with a grin. She walked to the foot of the bed. “And with all the tests that they had to run on you this week, you didn’t need any of that stuff.”
Aunt Addy pursed her lips. “There is never a good enough reason to leave the house without earrings and lipstick.”
She put her hand on her hip. “A stroke is a good reason, Addison.”
My aunt gave her an aggrieved look. “You would really deny me my dignity?”
Her longtime nurse choked back a laugh. “Because I didn’t put your earrings in?”
My aunt’s lips pulled downward. “So that’s a yes.”
“You two are funny,” I commented, before they could continue their normal back-and-forth. “What can I bring you to make your room feel more like home?”
“Discharge paperwork.”
I laughed. “I’m serious!”
“Flowers,” she answered quickly. “The pictures from my mantel and my bust…” She continued her list, and I took notes on my phone.
I nodded when I thought she was done. “I can do that. I’ll get everything you need to fix this place up. And I’ll pack a bag of clothes—”
“Don’t forget my bras,” she interrupted. “Monica has me out in public with my titties loose.”
I burst out laughing.
The three of us talked until someone brought in a dinner tray of what appeared to be Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, and peas. About an hour later, her medication was dispensed, and Monica said good night. Thirty minutes after that, Aunt Addy started to drift off.
“Are you comfortable?” I asked her as I watched her face twitch reflexively.
“It’s not my bed, but it’s fine,” she murmured.
“You won’t have to be here long,” I told her.
Her eyes remained closed. “I sure won’t. Two weeks max.”
“I’m going to head out and let you get some rest. I’ll be back in the morning with your stuff.”
Her eyes opened fractionally. “Okay, and we need to talk about how you’re living.”
I leaned over the bed and hugged her carefully. “Sounds good.” My voice broke as I pulled away. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I watched her for a moment, and my eyes filled with tears. Blinking them away, I turned and rushed out the door. I drove to her house in silence, my stomach in knots. I couldn’t stop thinking about how all the plans my aunt and I had made were changed in an instant.
I’d seen her unwell before, but I’d never seen her like that. She’d been on hospice three times, but she’d never looked sick. I knew she was going to die one day—everyone dies eventually—but it was the first time it seemed like that day could come soon.
I was not ready to lose her.
I pulled into her driveway, dropped my head to the steering wheel, and took a deep breath. When I felt ready, I wiped the tears from my cheeks, grabbed my bag, and went inside the four-bedroom rancher.
I set my suitcase down in the room Aunt Addy had deemed as mine. Passing the guest bedroom and the reading room, I paused in the doorway of Aunt Addy’s room.
She’s in rehab. She’ll be back soon, I reminded myself as I started to pack a bag for her. She’ll be fine.
I grabbed everything she needed, including several pairs of earrings and her favorite lipsticks, then rushed to the nearest store that sold boxes, and arranged the plants, the flowers, and the bust in one box. As I stacked photos in the second box, I dropped one on the floor.
“Shit,” I cursed, praying the glass didn’t break as I bent to pick it up. “Phew.”
Breathing a sigh of relief when I turned it over, I realized it was the picture of me at my eighth-grade graduation. My aunt was holding two of my awards, and I was holding the other two.
As a fat girl, you have to be nearly perfect in every other aspect of your life so the only thing they can say about you is that you’re fat.
My parents drilled those words into my head to combat the teasing I faced from the popular girls in school. Reflecting on the adage that had kept me in a chokehold since I was thirteen years old, I blinked back tears. I spent more than half my life holding on to those words.
If it weren’t for Aunt Addy …
I shook off the thought and stacked the rest of the photos into the box.
When I noticed the photo that was on top of the stack, I froze.
It was of me and Aunt Addy on my Hamilton University graduation day.
She looked so proud. The longer I stared at the image, the harder it became to keep my emotions in check.
“I need to get out of here,” I said aloud, hopping to my feet.
I grabbed my handbag and my keys as I rushed from the house.
Chance didn’t really have nightlife, but I knew there were two bars on either side of town that stayed open until two o’clock in the morning.
One was the closest thing to a club in Chance.
And the other was a sports bar. Being that it was mid-June, I was sure the sports bar would be full of basketball fans watching the playoffs.
Eating greasy bar food and getting sucked into the hype of a game would be the perfect way to quiet the thoughts flooding my mind.
I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror and saw my glassy, red-rimmed eyes, my downturned full lips, and my flushed caramel complexion.
I pulled down my ponytail and let my brown with honey-blonde highlighted locs fall over my shoulders.
Hoping to hide behind my hair, I climbed out the car, straightened my gray T-shirt, and tugged at my skintight black yoga pants.
Even though I was extremely casual, I thought I looked good enough for the bar.
I had second thoughts when I walked through the door and the first few women I saw had on heels, short skirts, and revealing dresses.
I was underdressed by comparison, but the way I was feeling on the inside, I didn’t have the energy to care. I just needed a distraction.
“Table for one, please,” I told the hostess who’d greeted me as I approached.
She frowned as she looked around. “I’m sorry. I think there’s space at the bar, but there are no available tables right this moment.” She glanced at her book and then at the television screen. “If you give it fifteen more minutes, the game will be over, and a lot of these people will clear out.”
“I’ll grab a seat at the bar,” I told her, eyeing an empty stool on the end.
I made a beeline to the spot and narrowly avoided getting elbowed in the face when a blocked shot caused the room to erupt.
“Sorry,” a man apologized quickly, before high-fiving a bunch of people around him and then sitting back down.
I climbed onto the stool and directed my attention to the large screen in front of me. Players hustled across the court, scrambling for the ball, and everyone around me was riveted. I took that opportunity to grab the bartender’s attention.
“Hey! Welcome to Stadium,” she greeted me with a bright smile. Even though her eyes looked tired, she seemed upbeat. “I’m Trina, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Our late-night menu is right here. Is there anything I can get for you now, or do you need me to circle back in a few?”
“Hi, I am going to order food. But for right now, I’ll just take a Blue Motorcycle,” I told her, handing her a twenty-dollar bill.
She winked. “Thank you.”
The basketball game ended just as I placed my order for a bacon cheeseburger with seasoned fries.
The chaos resulting from the come-from-behind win caused most of the patrons to leap to their feet.
Some people left, but most of the others were standing, yelling, and causing a commotion.
The cloud of gambling failures and financial loss hung in the air, and the place was in disarray.
It was so wild to witness the collective shock followed by the immediate stampede around the bar.
Looking around, I sipped my strong drink with my eyes wide. The remaining members of the crowd were rowdy, angrily recapping the end of the game. There was so much going on, I didn’t know if there was going to be a fight or a mass exodus.
I’d wanted a distraction, and I got it.
My attention bounced from the people in the bar to the large television in front of me.
Someone changed the channel from the basketball game highlights to a football game from the previous season.
A large portion of the crowd cleared out after that.
But it was still noisy enough for me to not be alone with my thoughts.
I knew the outcome of the game already, but I was still interested in how everything played out on the field.
“Here’s your food,” Trina announced.
I gawked at my dish. “Oh wow. Thank you.”
Pulling my hand sanitizer out of my bag, I cleaned my hands and then took a big bite of my burger.
“Mmm,” I intoned as the burst of flavors exploded in my mouth.
“That looks good,” commented a man who sat in the recently vacated seat next to me.
My first inclination was to put my guard up and tell him I had a man and that I wasn’t interested in making small talk. But the conversation with my girls popped in my head, and I chose a different route.
I just nodded politely.
I heard him, but I didn’t truly acknowledge him.
I hated talking to strangers while I was eating—especially in Chance.
And since he wasn’t really talking to me, he was talking about my food to himself, I didn’t engage.
I just stared at the large television in front of me and continued to chew my burger.
Seconds later, he lifted a large hand to flag down the bartender, and his cologne hit me, stealing my attention. I closed my eyes for a moment and inhaled the bergamot-and-cedarwood scent. It was intoxicating.
He didn’t just smell good. He smelled luxurious, expensive.
I glanced over at him as I swallowed.
When the male bartender started walking our way, he tugged down on his dark blue fitted cap. I couldn’t get a good look at his face, but he smelled like he looked good.
I shifted my eyes so he wouldn’t catch me staring. Popping a fry into my mouth, I turned my attention back to the game.
The bartender took the man’s order as I minded my business.
“Wasps or Monarchs?” the man asked.
I looked over at him to see if he was talking to me, and he was watching the instant replay.
“Wasps or Monarchs?” he repeated.
“Monarchs,” I answered, staring at his profile.
“That’s my team.”
When he turned his head toward me, his dark brown eyes bored into mine. The intensity caught me off guard.
“Nice,” I breathed.