"Hey, Mom. Sorry I missed your call. It's been a busy morning."
"Oh, that's alright, honey. I just wanted to hear your voice."
I smiled, or tried to, even though she didn't see me. "Work's been nuts." The lie came out easily. "Quarterly audits are around the corner, and we're short-handed. It's a whole thing." My voice sounded almost normal, even to me. I'd learned a long time ago how to put the right coat of paint on a bad story. I didn't dare let her hear the cracks underneath. Especially not after what she'd been through after the accident.
"You should tell your boss to give you a break. You know, life is short. You can't just work and work and expect to enjoy it later. Because one day, poof—" There was an unmistakable sound of snapped fingers "—the years are gone. Like that."
"Mom, trust me I know." I could hear the beach behind her—the thwack of a volleyball, the yelping of kids, the distant calls of seagulls, the soft waves. "You sound happy. Is it beautiful there?"
"It's paradise. I met two sisters from Des Moines yesterday at breakfast and they want to teach me how to play gin rummy." She giggled. "And I finally put my feet in the Atlantic Ocean. It's so much warmer than the Pacific."
I pictured her in a sunhat, pants rolled to the knee, toes digging into wet sand. I wanted her to have that happiness.
My thigh screamed in protest as I shifted my weight on a couch. I made a little noise, tried to cover it with a cough. "That's amazing, Mom. You deserve it."
"You sound very tired, Kimmy," she said. "Are you sure you're alright? You're not…you know…overworking yourself, are you?"
"No. I'm good. I promise."
Then, it came. "What is it I'm hearing from about someone breaking into Katrina's place?" Margaret supplied carefully.
Shit. "Just some kids," I said.Damn Katrina.I warned her to keep it under wraps but if the news reached June, it was bad. Our older foster sister was a horrible rumormonger.
"Is everything really okay, dear?" Margaret's voice sounded worried all of a sudden. "I feel like you girls are not telling me what's going on."
"Mom, it's all really okay." I pinched the bridge of my nose, counted to three, decided it was time to wrap up the conversation before she caught on. "I have to go now. Just have fun and don't worry about us. We are all grown up and we've got it."
She sighed, but there was nothing she could do from her island. "Alright. But if you need help, you call me. Or your sister. Or that young man you're seeing."
"Of course. I love you. Let me know when you are on your way back so I can arrange a ride for you."
After ending the call, I was silent for a few minutes, then curled up on the pillows and drifted off.
I woke up after 6 PM to a weak sunset in the washed-out sky. I checked the burner.
Still nothing from Seven.
Not even a text.
Somehow, this made me feel disappointed. Even though I had no right to be.
I dialed his number—the only one programmed on the device.
No answer.
I dialed again but to no avail.
I tried to read the news on my phone, but the headlines all blurred together. There was a shooting somewhere, a political scandal, a viral video of a dog playing piano.
Nothing about Caius Valmont.
I put the phone down and lay back. I watched the door, waiting for a beep of the keypad, or a footstep, or any sign that I wasn't alone in the world.
The day finally came to a close.
Seven never showed up.
47 seven
