Her own part in this began to dawn on her. “You know what sucks? I can be pissed at him for thinking he gets to decide what happens to us. But, honestly? I’m pissed at myself too. I thought I had it down pat. Avoid anything unpleasant. Don’t read the paper; don’t watch the news. Live my sheltered life working in beauty.”
“Who could blame you?”
“I do. I thought I was smart keeping myself safe. Now it’s cost me any chance with Phoenix. Life is messy, and I need to grow up and face that. Otherwise, he was right all along.”
“You want messy? Come by next time Matty has a blowout diaper.”
Orchid swilled her wine, and stood. “That one’s all yours, hon, I have my own mess to deal with.”
Athome, Orchid pried open her laptop and typed in her password. The information from Caleb didn’t reconcile with her perception of Phoenix. He moved with fluidity and grace. He’d sprinted to her side and held her when she was hurt.
Orchid typedmultiple amputeeinto the blinking search bar. Pages of links filled her screen. She tried not to look away.They’re just pictures. Nothing bad is going to happen.There were stories about military veterans and their prostheses, about amputees surfing, training for 5K’s, skateboarding, and rock climbing. The guys looked tough and tenacious.
One article described a soldier who was blown up by an IED and lost both legs and a hand. She paged through quickly, learning that he spent a year at Walter Reed, adapting to driving and living on his own. It was a hard recovery. Yet, he felt the experience made him stronger. Even if he could, he wouldn’t change a thing. His only wish was that people wouldn’t judge him based on how he looked. Orchid winced recalling her insensitive comments last she’d seen Phoenix. He wasn’t likely to interpret her judgment kindly.
Her perspective shifted. Avoiding these images hadn’t brought her parents back. Looking at them didn’t make bad things happen. And she wasn’t some overly sensitive person who was repulsed by other people’s imperfections. She felt their pain with empathy.
Did she want to curate an artificially rosy existence?No. I just need to find Phoenix to tell him how much I care.
He wasn’t letting her get in touch with him, so she shot hope into the atmosphere for the goodwill of one tattooed giant.
CHAPTER 45
HIP (EPONYMOUS)POOR BOY
Caleb
MONDAY MARCH 18
Phoenix peered down the corridor even though his office was too far to be able to see the receptionist’s desk. “Caleb’s here?” he asked, confused.
“You want me to tell him you’re busy?” Liv asked, one hand over the mouthpiece of her phone.
“Remind me again. I’ve got a two o’clock, right?”
Glancing at her computer screen, Liv nodded. “Right.”
“Send him in.”
Caleb arrived at the heels of the office receptionist, toting a paper bag.
The receptionist warily eyed his scowl, black jacket, jeans and untied combat boots. She shifted nervously.
“Oh my gawd,” she said, “will this snow ever end?” She stopped snapping her gum long enough to flash her wide, perfectly bleached-white teeth.
Caleb grunted and strode towards Phoenix. The receptionist turned and slouched back towards her spot in the waiting area.
Phoenix stepped out of his doorway to greet Caleb with a brief one-armed hug. “Hey. This is a rare and pleasant surprise.”
He turned to Liv. “Caleb, you remember my executive assistant, Liv? Liv, you’ve met my brother Caleb.”
They shook hands. Caleb deigned a quick “Hey,” then pointed at Phoenix’s office, situated behind Liv’s desk. “Should we sit in there?”
“By all means,” Phoenix said, leading the way. He indicated two swivel chairs adjacent to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Midtown.
Caleb waited for the door to shut behind them and joined his brother, plopping the bag onto the low table between the chairs. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair, where it promptly slid off the slick plastic surface. Caleb left it, sinking into the chair and leaning forward to open the paper sack. Rich, meaty odors emitted from the oil-spotted bag.
“Hungry?” Caleb asked.
