Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Hannah
“Yes, I will be there,” I promise my mom as I put together a red, white and blue horse wreath.
Mary Alice had this gig every Fourth of July making wreaths for the horses in the parade downtown.
What sucks is she took their fifty percent deposit before she left, so by the time I pay for the cost of the flowers, I won’t make a red cent off this deal.
But hopefully, they’ll book again next year.
“We missed you last week,” my mom complains. She’s miffed I didn’t come over last Sunday night for dinner. I hate obligating myself to go this Sunday—I’d rather hang with Armando, and I doubt he’d go anywhere near my parents’ place, but there’s no putting my mom off.
“Your dad had some medical tests done. He has high cholesterol and blood pressure,” she tells me. “They’re doing stress tests on his heart.”
“Anything I should worry about?”
“Well, he was getting short of breath. But I got him in to see a good specialist.” My mom is a nurse at a pediatrician’s office, so she knows all the best doctors in Chicago.
“Could just be because he’s fifty-five and out of shape,” I offer drily.
“He’s not that out of shape. Your dad is still solid muscle.”
“Solid muscle with a beer gut,” I observe, but my mom is right. My dad works hard, and his body is in better shape than most guys his age.
“So what’s new for you?” my mom prompts.
I nibble my lip, debating whether I should tell her about Armando. I hate keeping stuff from her, but what am I going to say? This mobster is hiding out at my apartment, and he can’t leave because my life might also be in danger?
“Mary Alice is giving me a break on payments for a couple months, so I can get business boosted.”
Thanks to Armando getting me to renegotiate.
“Are you having trouble?” My mom’s voice gets tight and concerned. My parents were worried about me taking on the business. They helped me put together a down payment and wanted to help more, but my little sister, Kiana, is at SIU, and tuition is killing them.
“No, I think I’m going to be okay.” I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but it sure feels more true than it did a week ago. But then, everything seems easier with Armando around.
Screw it, I had to tell her. “I’m sort of dating this guy.”
“You are? Bring him on Sunday!” my mom exclaims.
“Um, no, Mom. It’s way too soon for that. And he’s kind of anti-social at the moment.”
“What do you mean, anti-social?” she asks suspiciously.
I exhale, weaving another flower through the mesh. “I don’t know. He’s got some PTSD going on. He says he doesn’t feel anything.”
“Is he military?” my mom asks.
“Not exactly. But it’s kind of like that. I don’t want to tell his story without his permission.”
“Well,” my mom says slowly. “Sounds like his brain chemistry is off. You should get him to get his neurotransmitter levels checked.”
It’s so obvious I wonder why I didn’t put a scientific explanation to Armando’s malaise.
Of course it’s a brain chemistry thing. Depression probably set in in prison, and the change in neurotransmitter levels wouldn’t just instantly shift back because he’s out.
It makes perfect sense. I’m not sure he’s the kind of guy I could convince to get tested or help, though.
Still, it made me feel better. It seems like Armando thinks he has some kind of fatal flaw. Soullessness. Like he’s dead inside and nothing will bring him back. Maybe knowing it’s just neurochemical would help him.
“Thanks, Mom, I will talk to him about it. That’s a good idea.”
“Well, if he wants to come Sunday, he’s welcome. And we won’t make a big deal about it.”
“No chance, Mom. I’ll see you then.”
“All right, sweetheart. Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I end the call as Josie breezes in late again.
My stomach cinches up the way it always does when she’s around these days.
My beautiful best friend who’s killing me as an employee.
I think about Armando. What he would say.
How he urged me to text Mary Alice as soon as I’d arrived at the decision.
My mouth goes dry just thinking about what has to be done here.
“Josie,” I start, my voice coming out like a bark.
“Yeah?” She tucks her purse behind the counter and comes over.
“Can we talk?” The flapping wings in my belly grow more wild.
I swear I see the same anxiety I feel on Josie’s face.
Oh God. I don’t know if I can do this.
“You know I love you, right?”
She goes still. She’s wearing a bronze highlighter on the tops of her cheekbones and forehead that make her look like a model. I’m actually not sure why she isn’t a model, come to think of it. She’s got the beauty and the height.
“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet. Almost scared.
Shit.
I’m scared too. That’s why I’ve put off this talk for so long.
I don’t want to lose my best friend. I don’t want to hurt or offend.
But if I don’t change things, I’m going to end up hating her.
I think about Armando just forcing me to say why I was mad.
It had been a good thing. Maybe this would be too.
“I don’t know if you working here is the best thing for our friendship.” I get it out all in one burst, like the air rushing out of a balloon.
Her eyes widen. “Yeah,” she says, sounding sort of surprised.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, mainly because I’m taken aback by her yeah .
She runs her thumbnail over the workbench surface, eyes down. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it for a while.” Her voice is low and sorry.
I blink. “You have?”
She nods. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to leave you in the lurch, you know?
This place is everything to you, and you’re working so hard.
I don’t want to abandon you, but… the flower shop isn’t really my gig.
I want to get back to interior design, but I’m not going to put myself out there if I keep telling myself you need me. ”
Relief pours through me, mingled with a little hurt. “Right. You were just helping me out. Of course this isn’t your gig.”
“And you were helping me,” she says firmly.
She’d been depressed after getting laid off from her apprenticeship when I offered her the job.
She was good at interior design. I figured she’d love flowers, too.
We both wanted to help each other. But it makes sense that this job is holding her back from her dreams.
“So… you’ll find something else?”
She nods. “If that’s okay with you. I’m sorry—I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for weeks, but it never seemed like the right time. My stomach’s been in knots every time I was here.”
“Oh my God,” I let out a laugh. “That was yours!” I rub my own belly, and suddenly, now that I’ve identified its source, the nervous feeling is gone. “I was feeling it with you!”
Josie shakes her head. “You are so weird. Like sci-fi weird.”
“I know. Star Trek—I’m Gem, the empath who steals other people’s pain. Only I don’t really take it out of them, I just feel it too. It’s such a useless ability. Like why couldn’t I be able to see ghosts or predict the future or something? Being an empath isn’t a superpower, it’s a handicap.”
Josie pulls me in for a hug. “It’s a superpower. You just haven’t figured out how to use it yet. Now, what can I do to help today?”
“Casket flowers. I think Armando ordered this mortuary to give me business. The guy called and said he understood I’d be the flower shop he’d be dealing with from now on.” I open my eyes wide and cover my exaggerated “O”-shaped mouth.
“Oh my God! Married to the mob has its advantages.”
“I’m not married. But um, yeah. He makes things happen, that’s for sure.”
Josie clucks her tongue. “I never would’ve put you with a guy like that, but you know what? I can see how it works.”
“You can?”
She shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, aren’t Italians supposed to be so passionate? And you’re Ms. Emotional. So that works.”
I shake my head. “He’s not emotional at all. He’s the opposite—like flat-liner opposite. But you’re right. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t mind my over-emoting. He’s used to it.”
“Or, maybe he’s just really into you.” Josie waggles her eyebrows.
My fingertip touches the diamond nose ring he bought me. “It doesn’t seem like it. But I don’t know. I guess it’s hard to tell with a guy who’s flatlining on emotions.”
“If you’ve done your crying thing and he didn’t bail, he’s into you. Trust me.”
I give her a stupid-happy smile, wanting to believe. And also so relieved that we got work things out in the open.
I hate to jinx anything, but it seems like my life is actually starting to work.
I’m facing business stuff. Friend stuff.
I’m having great sex. I’m in love with a guy who accepts me for who I am and also encourages me to be something more.
There are problems to be worked through, for sure.
But hope is soaking in through all the broken places.