So I lied.
He was just tweaked, I sent. Then added, He happened to be at the bar when he got the call. Worried that the dude was at large in our neighborhood. You know he’s a good guy, Mom.
I know that. I’m glad he’s OK, she returned, and in her first three words, even through a text, I actually felt her disappointment that a good guy like Merry wasn’t holding her daughter’s hand in the way she hoped he would.
Then again, he was.
And I’d fucked it up.
Shit.
Two words. I knew Merry would accept them. Easy to type them out.
I’m sorry.
I turned my attention back to my phone, hit what I had to hit, and put it to my ear.
It rang three times before Vi answered, “Hey, babe.”
“You got lunch plans today?” I asked.
“I do now,” she answered. “Frank’s? The Station? Feelin’ like Chinese?”
“My pad,” I told her.
“Cool,” she replied. “What time?”
“Noon good for you?”
“Yeah. And hey,” she went on, “Bobbie’s got mums on sale for half off and I got my tradesman discount. You want some for your outside pots?”
“That’d be good. The usual. Purple and white.”
“Hmm…not sure she has white. But she has cream.”
“That’ll work.”
“Right. See you at noon.”
“Yeah.”
There was a pause before she asked, “Hey, you okay?”
“Not even close.”
“Oh shit,” she whispered, then asked tentatively, “Merry?”
“Just come at noon, Vi.”
“I’ll be there, honey.”
“Later.”
“’Bye.”
I hit the screen to disconnect and tossed my phone on the table. I grabbed my cup of coffee, took a sip, put it to the table, and looked unseeing out the window.
I did this a long time, eyes dry.
When I finally snapped myself out of it, I realized I had just enough time to shower, slap on my makeup, do my hair, and get to the grocery store so I could make Vi a decent meal that didn’t involve microwave popcorn, chocolate, or Funyuns.
But before I headed out of the kitchen, I turned off the oven, grabbed a potholder, and pulled out the plate of waffles.
They looked amazing.
I wanted to freeze them and keep them forever.
I threw them in the trash.
* * * * *
Violet Callahan sat across my kitchen table from me, silent. The sandwich of shredded, fake crabmeat, mayo, and avocado that sat next to a stack of Pringles on a plate in front of her was untouched.
Cal, her husband, had their kids, Angela and Sam.
Cal was a bona fide badass of the scary variety, regardless of how much he loved his woman, his kids, and her daughters from her first marriage to a man who, sadly, was murdered, or how easily he showed all that. He still was scary in a way that Ryker, who looked like the maniac he only partially was, couldn’t be.
There was no way to explain it. If you met Cal, you knew that was just his way.
Which made it sweet as all get-out that he took their two very young children pretty much everywhere he went. They even had playpens and cribs at his office. It was crazy.
Then again, his first wife was a strung out junkie who didn’t pay attention, and thus, his baby boy had drowned in a bathtub. So it wasn’t that surprising he kept his kids close.
See? Life sucked. For everybody.
It was just that for some, they made their way to happy.
That just wasn’t for me.
“Vi,” I prompted when she didn’t say anything. She’d barely moved, hadn’t taken a bite, even though I’d been blathering for the last twenty minutes about all that had been going down with me.
Except for Ryker’s warning about my neighbors, I didn’t leave anything out.
“Vi,” I snapped when she still didn’t say anything.
“Quiet,” she returned. “I’m trying to stop myself from slapping you upside your head.”
Loved my girl.
Feb was my big sister and I loved her too. But Vi was my bestie, the best one I’d ever had, and I’d knock your teeth out if you said she wasn’t the best friend there could be.
Even so, not real big on her telling me she wanted to slap me upside my head.
I narrowed my eyes. “Uh…what?”
“God, Cher!” she cried angrily, then leaned in to the table my way. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“It isn’t your problem.”
She leaned back, glaring and speaking. “Yeah. That’s the part that makes me want to slap you upside your head.”
“I’m tellin’ you now,” I pointed out.
“You know,” she started conversationally, then hit me with her best shot, and it was a doozy. “It doesn’t feel real good when I got a BFF who’d race to my side at the drop of a hat if she got even the inkling that I need her—and I know this because she’s done that— and she doesn’t let me do the same for her. Of anyone, Cher, in all the shit that’s gone down in this ’burg with people who mean something to you, you know, bein’ a mom, you freakin’ know it’s no hardship when you’re called on to look after somebody. It’s an honor. I cannot imagine why you’d take that privilege from me.”