My heart thuds. “What?”
He rests his hip against the counter and folds his arms across his chest. “Look, I think you know I like you. I’ve liked you since day one and I was thrilled you wanted to go out with me after all. But then somehow, things changed. He comes around, first at the restaurant, which I can chalk up to coincidence, and then every day at the coffee shop. And you’re all prickly one day and blushing the next. You’re smiling for no reason and then you’re glaring at people for no reason. And now suddenly, he’s nowhere to be found, when he’d come around pretty much the same time every morning, like clockwork. And you walk around like a zombie, looking out of it, thinking hard about stuff.” He dips hisface to catch my eyes. “I’m not an idiot. There’s something going on between you and the famous Wrecking?—”
“Nothing,” I say, cutting him off because I don’t want to listen to him being referred to that way; it hits too close to home, “is going on. Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been the best about sharing my feelings with you. But you’re my boss and I really need this job, so if we can just forget about the whole dating and dinner thing, it would be great.”
Joe reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I get it. You don’t have to explain.” Then, squeezing my shoulder again, “But just know, I’ll be here if and when you need me, okay?”
With that, he flicks his gaze down to my chest and I really have to force myself to not wrinkle my nose and step out of his reach. Thankfully, he lets me go and leaves me to finish the clean-up, and as soon as he’s out of sight, I inevitably turn to the glass door to look beyond. Toward the empty street. Or rather, the street filled with strangers but empty of the one person I always think is there.
I know it’s crazy to think that. That he could be anywhere near me after what happened, but it’s this stupid tingling on the back of my neck. I get it randomly these days, like someone is watching. Likeheis watching, but every time I turn to look, there’s no one there.
I go back to focusing on the job, and ten minutes later I’m clocking out and catching the bus back home. Which still feels weird because usually, after the coffee shop, I’d be walking to the strip club to start my shift. Some days, I’d be putting my lipstick on while walking on the sidewalk because I’d be running a little late. Other days, I’d be massaging my neck or my back from standing up at the shop all day and because I’d have another eight hours of doing the same at the club. It also feels weird that I have the entire evening free. And I can actually go homeand cook dinner for me and Snow and not just rely on PB&J or ramen. I can actually hang out with my sister too, instead of just checking in over the phone.
Twenty minutes later, I’m opening the door to my first-floor apartment when I come to a screeching halt. My mother is sitting on the brown leather couch I got at the flea market and Snow is sitting right beside her. While my sister springs up from the seat at my arrival, looking visibly relieved, my mother takes her time. First, she takes me in, my messy hair and flushed face, my wrinkled uniform and my scuffed sneakers. Then she pulls the cigarette out of her red-painted lips and blows a puff of smoke that immediately gets my back up; only then does she deign to rise.
I enter and shut the door behind me before looking over at Snow. “Go to your room.”
Snow swallows, already stepping away from Mom, but she still asks, “Are you sure?”
“Now,” I tell her.
She swallows again but her relieved breath is unmistakable as she nods and practically flees. As sassy as my sister is, she’s a nervous wreck when it comes to the rest of the world, including Mom. Other than using Snow as a pawn in her twisted games against me, my mom also has a tendency of going off at the slightest of provocations, especially when I’m involved, so Snow tries to keep the peace.
Back when I was trying to get Snow to live with me and Mom wouldn’t let her go, Snow would try to appease Mom by promising visitation. Like we were in some sort of a custody battle. We did not have the money for that, and I don’t think a judge would grant a twenty-year-old with a high school degree and a strip club job custody of her little sister. In any case, Mom put up as many roadblocks as she could, if only to screw with me, and Snow retreated even more into her shell. All of this turnedout to be moot though when her heart condition was revealed, and Mom let her go like she never wanted her in the first place.
Snow knows to call me if or when Mom shows up on our doorstep, and I’m sure she must’ve tried to but Mom probably didn’t give her a chance.
“You know, you like to pretend,” my mother says, still smoking, cocking her hip to the side, “but you’re not her mother.”
It’s been a few months since I last saw my mother. She looks the same as she always does, all made up and pretty with red hair and green eyes. Like me, she has freckles but hers don’t overpower her face like mine do, and they almost make a pattern on her nose and cheekbones, unlike mine that look like they exploded into a million pieces.
Anyway, my mother is very fond of her make-up and dresses. Looking pretty is important to her, and no matter what, she puts a lot into her appearance. Even during the days when she’d laze around the house after my biological dad was gone, she’d make sure to do her hair and put on lipstick at least, on the off chance she might run into someone while getting the mail.
She likes when people notice her, especially men. She specifically likes men noticing her when they shouldn’t. Like when she’s out and about with the man she’s supposed to be with at the time. I guess that’s how she met Jeremy, while being out and about with Dad, looking pretty. I overheard her saying that when they fought about him.
In any case, I refuse to rise to the bait and instead say, “What are you thinking? You can’t smoke in here. You can’t smoke around Snow. You know that.”
Yes, she does. Not because she was there when the doctor laid out all the rules, but because Itoldher when she came around the first time after Snow’s surgery. She was smoking then too, and I had her put it out. She didn’t like it but fuck that.We’d just almost lost Snow, she could go without her cigarette for a little bit.
My mother, however, takes her time with this one too. She studies me some more, this time with irritation that I can clearly see on her face, before bending down and stubbing the half-smoked cigarette out on the glass table. Great. Just freaking great.
Shaking my head, I toe off my sneakers and go to clean up after her. Pick up her cigarette and the empty glass of juice that I’m sure Snow must have gotten for her. This isn’t the first time I’m doing the same. I spent my entire childhood and teen years picking up after her in the hollow pursuit that if she saw me taking care of her, maybe she’ll take care of me back. Maybe she’ll even come to love me back but of course that never happened. While I have very little hope of it ever happening, I’m glad this gives me something to do while I wait for her to reveal why she’s here. I’m sure it has to do with her constant phone calls I still haven’t taken.
I walk to the kitchen just off the hallway, and she follows me. “It’s been months since her surgery. One cigarette wouldn’t kill her.”
I dump her glass in the sink and take a deep breath before turning around to face her. “It actually could. And please don’t use Snow and kill or anything remotely similar in the same sentence, thank you.”
She’s standing with her shoulder propped up against the fridge, looking all kinds of careless and pretty. “You don’t need to coddle her like she’s a child. She was sick, she’s fine now. She needs to live her life, not be afraid of it.”
“I do need to coddle her because a, it’s not coddling, it’s called being cautious. And b, she has a heart condition and if we do want her to live, being cautious is the only way.”
“You’re so responsible now, aren’t you?”
“If by that you mean I know that a coffee table isn’t an ashtray,” I retort, giving in to the urge to provoke her, “then, yes I am.”
At my words, she sneers and her face turns into something cruel and ugly. “If you’re such a big girl, how come you’re out of a job?”
“What?”
