She quietly assessed me.
A minute or so passed before she finally spoke again. “Sweetheart, Tyson wasted your twenties. You want to let him waste your thirties, too?”
Damn.
5
The thing about Addison Payne was that she was always going to give me something to think about. Her words forced the unanswered text to the forefront of my mind.
I cleared my throat and forced myself to look at my aunt. “So, um, if Ididgo hang out with Lamar, what time is Rose coming tomorrow?”
“She said she’ll be here when the doors open. So, while I catch up with her, you’re going to go on your date. And when it’s over, you’ll come here and tell me about it.” Her lopsided smile grew, and her eyes twinkled. “If it goesreallywell, you’ll come here on Monday and tell me about it.”
My head fell back, and I let out a laugh. “Auntie! It’s not like that!”
“While I’m laid up in this room for the next couple of weeks, you would deny me the opportunity to live vicariously through you?”
I shook my head, slumping back into the chair. “You can’t use your condition like that.”
“What’s the saying? Use what you got to get what you want.”
I rolled my eyes. “You must be stopped.”
She looked like she was about to say something when an extremely buff physical therapist came in to take her to her session. While she was gone, I pulled out my phone and responded to Lamar’s text.
Jazmyn Payne:Eleven sounds good. See you tomorrow.
Between physical therapy, occupational therapy, and psychotherapy, Aunt Addison returned four hours later exhausted, borderline defeated. My heart hurt watching her get settled back in bed. She was out of it for the rest of the afternoon. I rubbed her hand and watched TV with her until she nodded off soon after dinner.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Aunt Addy,” I murmured as I gave her a hug.
“Date,” she mumbled, turning her head toward me.
Sadness swept over me when I left the rehab facility. I thought about her the entire ride back to her house. And as I closed my eyes and prepared to sleep, hot tears slipped from between my lids and slid down the sides of my face.
For years, I’d kicked off my summer by spending time with my favorite aunt. But being in the stillness of her house while she wasn’t there felt empty—and not just because the house was. My aunt had such a big presence. Before her therapies, it had almost felt like she was getting back to herself when we were compiling our lists. But afterward, she was a shadow of herself. And as I’d watched her lying in that bed, unable to walk, unable to move her left side, unable to enunciate when she spoke, unable to hide her frustration, my heart had hurt for her.
And it still hurt for her.
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when the phone rang loudly, I startled awake.
“Hello?” I answered, almost frantic when I saw my aunt’s cell phone number. My heart thumped in my chest. “Aunt Addy?”
“Did you check my closet?”
I sat up abruptly. “For what? What do you need?”
“Not for me. Foryou. You need something to wear today. Something nice.”
My mouth hung open for a second as my brain caught up with what she was saying. “What?”
“You can’t wear jeans and a T-shirt on your first date in years.”
“I don’t havejustT-shirts. I have some nice shirts in there, too.”
“So, you don’t have date clothes?”
“No, but…” I fell back against my pillows. “It’s way too early for this,” I groaned.
