Chapter 28
Rose
It’s been weeks since the incident and I’m still trying to figure out what I did wrong.
Sure, I kissed my ex, but I’ve explained via texts over a million times why. A reasonable man would’ve understood. Because he’s been no help whatsoever, Dr. Downy has been demoted. His new job is to catch my tears as I cry myself to sleep. He’s probably moldy but there’s no point in replacing him until the waterworks cease which isn’t in the foreseeable future.
Mia, the bane of my depression, shouts from the kitchen. “Rose. Get up.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” I haven’t slept in days, but don’t want her to nag so I crawl out of bed, throw on yesterday’s clothes, and put my hair in a ponytail.
Walking down the hall, she sprays disinfectant. “Aren’t you going to shower?”
“Nope.” I sniff my pits and shrug. It could be worse.
Hey, she and Mom are lucky I show up for work. The only reason I do is to keep the blue-haired brigade from staging an intervention. Unlike the octogenarians, Mia uses food to try and cheer me up and today, French toast is her secret weapon.
“Sorry, sis.” Holding back tears, I swallow coffee over the lump in my throat. It was sweet of her to try but the smell of maple syrup reminds me of Vermont-ageddon.
Shit. If the waterworks start again, she’ll rat me out to Mom. At best, I’ll get a lecture. At worst, I’ll end up in church surrounded by the rosary club with Father O’Connell sprinkling holy water.
The only option is escape so I don my coat and walk down the stairs. Like I have for the last fourteen days, I shoot Joey the bird. I don’t know how, but I’m pretty sure he said something to someone and fucked up my life.
Halfway to work, I realize I’m still in my slippers. Fuck. Maybe no one will notice.
I trudge past Santas, elves, sleighs, sales, reindeer, and countless other fucking cheerful shit. Ignoring them, I pull my hoodie tighter against the cold and shuffle through the snow, dusting the sidewalk.
The white powder resembles fentanyl which makes me think of Wheels which reminds me how much I hate him, and I start to cry.
At the salon door, I unlock and retrieve clean utensils from the steamer. Once the stations are prepped, I sit in my chair, and stare at my phone. No texts. No calls. No nothing. Apparently, the man I loved was abducted by aliens.
I scroll through our pictures wishing I could delete them, and I will, but not today.
My mom arrives next. She frowns at my appearance but knows better than to give me shit. The last time she did, I shrugged and went home. I kind of wish she would, because then I could lay down, pull the comforter over my head, and forget the last few weeks ever happened.
At lunch, Mia pulls me aside. “You can’t keep beating yourself up. He’s gone and you need to live with it.”
She’s right. I let Paolo kiss me. I was wrong but was I unforgiveable? Is my compass so off that I don’t know the degree of my immorality? Should I have sat around on my ass in Vermont and let come what may?
“Go out with us tonight.” My sweet sister takes my hands in hers, but I tug mine back and shake my head, no.
Sam has Suds, Mia has Hands, and me? I am destined to be a doily-crocheting lonely cat-lady the rest of my life. “How about you guys go out and I babysit Mikey?”Other than Dr. Downy, he’s the only person I can tolerate for more than five minutes.
Thank God, she agrees. Otherwise, I’d spend all afternoon coughing, pretending to come down with a cold. With the hour hand on five, the minute hand on twelve, I sigh and put down the broom.
I’m not hungry but if I don’t eat, Mia will know. So, I stop for a cheese slice to go and will give it to a homeless guy who hangs out on the corner.
“You look like shit.” Petey’s comment is true, so I don’t take offense, but he’s still an asshole for putting it so bluntly.
“Nice, real nice.” I pay and as I’m about to go, Uncle Vinny sneaks around the corner.
I pretend he’s not there, but he catches up with me and clamps onto my arm. “We need to talk.”
Fuck. I’m tired of talking. I’m tired of Brooklyn, and I’m sick to death of the whole damn world.
“What is it?” I stand fast in front of the cash register and refuse to follow him to his private dining room where he does business.
“I heard a certain container truck blew up outside Chicago. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it?”
