“What’s going on?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing, please go.”
“Where’s your grandpa? I want to talk to him.” I invite myself in, sidestepping her small frame and dropping my bags by the door. When I step into the small living room, he’s not there and there are a bunch of boxes stacked against the wall.
“You’re moving?” I ask her, or maybe the wall. It doesn’t matter because the question is rhetorical. “Why?” I ask, turning to face her. “And where’s John?”
When she doesn’t answer me, I go to her. As much as it pains me to admit this, I love this girl even though I don’t trust her. Her hand attempts to move a piece of paper out of my line of sight, but I’m too fast for her. I pick it up and read it and in an instant my heart is sitting in my stomach.
“When?” I ask, unable to read another word.
“Monday night. I was packing and he wanted to help. I told him to stay in his chair and I’d bring his clothes to him to pick out, but he didn’t listen. He got up and started walking down the hall. I tried to get him to go back to his chair, but he said he was fine so I let him help me pack. I went to the bathroom to grab my stuff and when I came back he was bent over the bed. I called 9-1-1, but he was already gone.”
I pull her into my arms without hesitation and let my own tears fall. She’s left with no one. John was it for her and even though she knew he wouldn’t be around forever, I think she thought it’d be longer than it was.
“Daisy, I’m so sorry.”
She steps out of my grasp and wipes her tears, but I don’t bother to wipe mine. She needs to see that I care about her and her grandfather.
“Can I do anything for you?”
She shakes her head. “Just leave, please.”
“Daisy?” My voice trails off. Her eyes are sharp and to the point.
“Get out. You’ve done enough.” She steps away from me, putting her head down.
Her words shoot me straight through the heart, breaking off what little life I had left. I nod and brush past her, stopping only to pick up my bags and leave. I walk out her door without looking back. If ever there’s a relationship that’s over – it’s this one.
I decide to walk to my house. I’m far too agitated to get in the back of some cab and listen to the guy tell me his theory on why we suck or what I need to do to get better. Everyone is a fucking coach, player and personal life coach, even when they’re driving cars around for minimum wage.
Cars honk and women pull over asking if I need a ride home. I know I’m going to be on the front page of the paper tomorrow with some jacked up headline about how I can’t afford a car. One thing is for certain, I won’t be on the BoRe Blog because she’s not walking with me so her “source” can’t tell her anything.
As soon as I hit my block, I see a shadow sitting on my steps. For one brief moment, I think its Daisy and she’s here to apologize. Only it can’t be her because she would’ve seen me walking down the street and I highly doubt she can afford a cab right now. The closer I get, the easier it is to make out the features of the other woman I know so well – Sarah.
I pause at the bottom of my steps and look at her. “What are you doing here?” I ask, realizing that I’m more than happy to see her.
She shrugs. “Your mom called, said she thought you could use a friend. I had a break from classes so I thought I’d fly out and spend some time here, maybe look for a job or something.”
“I’m happy you’re here.” I climb the stairs and set my bag down next to her. I pull her into my arms and hold her, feeling my body sigh.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
No. Yes. Never because guys don’t do that type of shit. “I don’t know.”