That’s about as far as I get before the white wall recedes and a much gentler blackness closes in.
Chapter twelve
Amalphia
Oof, I need serious advice.
Warrick left for the office first thing this morning. He still didn’t look like he was one hundred percent—I mean, he always looks one hundred percent, but that’s not how the saying goes. He was probably a solid eighty-five percent of the way healthy.
I immediately went into his bathroom to clean and then stripped his bed and threw everything into the washer. It’s been a few hours, and I’m still wrestling with all those loads. The freaking sheets made up one whole load, as well as the comforter I had to beat into submission to get it into both the washerandthe dryer.
I threw myself into cleaning the kitchen, the windows, and the floors on top of all my regular cleaning.
I’ve spent hours this morning trying to exhaust myself, but the truth is, I’m still vibrating. Literally.
I can see my hands shaking when I raise them in front of my face. Alright, they’re not shaking but tremoring a little. Thenervous anxiety is real. Cleaning didn’t do the trick, and blasting metal music over the house’s amazing speakers and scrubbing to the violent rhythm didn’t exhaust me. I even got changed and went for a swim, pushing myself to do laps until I was panting. But as soon as I got out and dried off, I felt just as invigorated.
I know what’s wrong with me.
No,wrongisn’t the right word. Maybe it’s that I know what’srightwith me. I kissed my boss. And he kissed me back. I’ve wanted to do that for a while. Maybe he has too. He tried to get me to leave, but in the end, he couldn’t. I’ve never seen anyone look more genuinely miserable than when War begged me to stay. Or so blissfully and wonderfully amazed when I kissed him.
That’s where it’s at.
Totally up in the air. Total unknownwhat the fuck are we even doing, and where the fuck do we go from here?status.
I don’t have time to go home for a visit yet, but I need advice. And not just any advice. I need hardcoregranvice. Granny advice. There is zero substitute in the world for Granny’s brain and heart. No one knows me better.
I’ve been talking to my parents regularly on my tablet, but calling my granny in the middle of the day is dicey. She has her own tablet, but she’s not the greatest at operating it, and my parents don’t head over there until after dinner. I love my mom and dad, but right now, this isn’t a conversation I want to have with them. They wouldn’t understand the way I know Granny would. Even if she doesn’t, at least she’ll be inappropriately hilarious. I could use a dose of that too.
I grab some swanky coconut water out of the fridge and head back to the pool house. I have almost an hour before I need to check the dryer. The coconut water comes in a Tetra Pak thing. I have to unscrew the lid. I’ve never tried it before, and I’m surprised to find that it’s quite refreshing and delicious. Well, it should be. It probably cost nine dollars.
I wish War would leave the grocery shopping to me. I’m sure I could get better deals. At the same time, the pressure of having to do it would make my head implode. It’s much easier that he just keeps using his usual online service. He can pick what he wants then, and I don’t have to guess if I’m getting the right bone broth or gamble on the cut of steak. I don’t have to pay attention to things like grain-fed and grass-fed, organic, and all the other options that mean more money. I try to ignore the prices on the things that have stickers, but my good god. Eighty dollars for a steak?
I never forget that Warrick doesn’t need to worry about money. It just seems so strange to me that it constantly blows my mind.
I sprawl across my bed, the AC blasting into the pool house and chilling it off to just the right temperature. Warrick likes the house a few degrees colder than I prefer it, but it’s not like I’d ever go and find and try to hijack his thermostat. I just throw on a sweater if I need one.
I reach for my tablet and turn it on. Granny has an identical one. We got them for Christmas last year. It’s a miracle that mine made it through Reginaldgate.
Thoughts of Reg set my teeth on edge, so I focus on what I’m doing, opening the app and calling Granny’s number.
I wait as it rings. It rings through again and then disconnects. I call back three more times just to make sure she’s really not there. She could be doing anything. It’s the middle of the day, but chances are she’s trying to figure out how to answer the call.
My hunch proves correct when the screen flashes and then goes black. I can’t see anything, but I can hear Granny in the background.
“What in the devil—fargery hellish beast thing—Irene! Irene! Come here! You know how to work these blasted, confounded,cursed contraptions! I can’t get the screen to work. It keeps flashing a call, but I can’t see anything.”
A disembodied voice joins Granny’s. “I think it’s supposed to be like that.”
“What’s that now? I tried that! Blast it and bottoms!”
“Hand it over. I can’t see what I’m doing when it’s upside down. There. Yup. Got it.”
The screen cuts in. I wave at Irene, who has curlers in her hair and a bright red silk scarf over them. She waves back, the world spins, and then Granny’s face centers on the screen. My wave becomes so enthusiastic that it’s a miracle my hand doesn’t snap right off.
“Oh, thank you and tarnation! Amalphia? Are you there?”
“Hey, Granny, I’m here.”
