Page 135 of Heartbreak & Cupcakes
First my building, then this?Well, at least I knew why he’d moved Mrs. Flores here. He owned it.
Monica’s expression turned curious as she tilted her head. “Yeah. He bought the building after Mr. Harris moved in.”
“He knows Mr. Harris?”
That was news to me.
“Yeah, he comes and visits…” She stopped herself and turned fully toward me. “You two are dating, right?”
I could see that she was second-guessing whether she’d said too much or not. As if she’d breached some sort of client-patient confidentiality arrangement.
“Um…yeah, we are. It’s new. We’ve never talked about this place before.”
We’d talked about everything else under the sun though. For the first six months that we’d known each other our conversation had been limited to about ten words. Then when I’d lived with him for a month, our conversations had mostly involved Lexi. The times we’d been alone, we hadn’t really talked.
But ever since the night at the Victorian house when Alex said he wanted to try, he’d been opening up to me in ways I’d never imagined. We’d talked about our childhoods, which could not have been more different.
I told him about my experience losing my mom the way I had. That I’d always felt like I had to do something extraordinary with my life to make up for the sacrifice she’d made. I’d never toldanyonethat except my therapist, not even Charli.
He’d shared with me some of the traumas he’d experienced in foster care and had talked a lot about Ashley and AJ. He’d shared more with me than I’d ever imagined he would, for which I was grateful. It was amazing getting a glimpse of his life before I knew him, even if it was tinged in tragedy.
I could see that she was still uneasy.
“I’m not even sure he knows that I come here.” I’d told him that I deliver leftovers to a women’s shelter and retirement home, but I’d never been specific.
“Yes, he does.”
“He does?”
“He saw you here once, a few months back. He came to see Mr. Harris and you two were dancing.”
“Oh.” Alex hadn’t mentioned that he’d seen me here before.
I wondered why he hadn’t.
I wanted to ask Monica some follow up questions but before I had the chance, I heard my name being shouted. I turned and saw Mrs. Flores smiling and waving at me.
Pivoting back to Monica, I said, “Thanks, for…” I wasn’t sure what I was thanking her for.
“No problem.” She lifted up her badge that she’d just used to give me access to the community room.
I walked in, feeling a little bit odd. Alex had seen me here and he’d never said anything. I’d ask him about it after Lexi’s recital.
I spent the next hour with Gladys, Lorna, Mrs. Flores and most importantly Mr. Harris. He was having a bad day, so I sat with him and held his hand as he talked about our kids and how he was concerned that Micah, our oldest, was hanging out with the wrong crowd and that Sara, our youngest needed braces that he wasn’t sure how we were going to afford.
Once again, I wondered if Mr. Harris had kids, where were they?
After saying goodbye to the group, I started to head out through the main hall but then remembered that I needed to exit through the kitchen. I was preoccupied thinking about my own dad, which I tended to be after spending time at the senior center.
Since the day I drove across the country, he’d been trying to get me to move back. Right now, he was fit as a fiddle, but if that changed one of us would have to make a move. I had a feeling it would be me. He was as stubborn as a goat, and always maintained that he was allergic to California. He’d lived in Los Angeles in his twenties and said there was too much sun.
The truth was, he didn’t like change. He’d lived in the house I grew up in for over forty years. He’d bought it a few years before he met my mom and part of me didn’t think he’d ever leave it because it would mean leaving her. Also, he was a man of routine. He liked to do the same thing, at the same time, every day.
It was three hours ahead in Boston, so that meant it was nine o’clock. Right now I knew he was sitting in his chair, watching Jeopardy. When that ended, he’d wash out the glass that he’d had his nightly “taste” of whiskey in and put it on the drying rack beside the sink. Then he’d set the timer on the coffee maker, go upstairs, watch the news and ESPN for half an hour in bed and then go to sleep.
I walked out into the back alley, but my mind was back home, with my dad. I worried about him all alone thousands of miles away. That concern led to me breaking the golden rule that any female needed to adhere to when walking alone, always be aware of your surroundings.
Growing up with a cop as a dad, I had safety drilled into me from the time I was in diapers, long before I understood what it meant. Keep your head on a swivel, that’s what my dad used to always tell me. Keep your senses sharp. Who is around you? What sounds do hear? What smells do you smell?
Never be distracted.
Well, I dropped my guard for a moment when I felt my arm being jerked and something heavy land on my head, I started to scream and that was the last thing I was aware of.
After that…everything went black.
