Page 32 of Heartbreak & Cupcakes
“You are making a lot of improvements, much-needed improvements, I’m just a little concerned about what your end game is.”
My end game?I didn’t have an end game.
“People don’t pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into run-down buildings out of the goodness of their heart,” she continued. “And we can barely afford the rent to this place as it is. We’re short-staffed on the night crew and—”
“Monica, I have no intention of increasing the rent on this place,” I interrupted her.
She blinked up at me in surprise. “You don’t?”
“No. And I’d like you to get Mia a rundown of your payroll, expenses, and outgo. I’d like to see what I can do to help.”
Her brow creased in confusion. “Why? I thought this was just about Mr. Harris?”
I’d met Mr. Harris at a support group that Mrs. Garrett had forced me to go to. His wife passed away about five years before I’d lost Ash and AJ. He’d also lost a son who was serving in Afghanistan.
We’d bonded immediately. There weren’t many people who understood the emptiness, the pain, the torment of losing both a spouse and child. Besides myself and Mr. Harris, I didn’t personally know any. It was a unique agony that only he could relate to.
About a year back, after he was found wandering the streets in the middle of the night and was picked up by police, it was decided by his two surviving children that he move into this place. They both lived out of state and handled the entire thing without taking a trip out here.
When I came to visit him, I immediately knew that I couldn’t leave him here. I’d tried to move him to a better facility, but he was a proud man and he’d refused. So instead of getting him into a new place, I’d bought this building and had been slowly renovating it. As much as I just wanted to take everything down to the studs and get it all done in one fell swoop, I couldn’t do that. There were residents that lived here that couldn't have their lives disturbed.
Now, it wasn’t just about Mr. Harris. This had become as much of a passion project for me as my foundation Fostering the Future.
“It was,” I answered honestly, “at first. I just wanted him to be in a better place. But now, now that I see how much need there is, I want to help.”
Monica stared at me for several beats. I knew that stare. It was the same one that I used when I was reading people. Finally, her chin dipped in a nod and I could see that I’d passed her scrutiny.
“How is Mr. Harris doing today?” I wanted to say goodbye and remind him that I wouldn’t be here for our standing Tuesday afternoon chess game. I’d be out of the country for the next six days.
I saw from Monica’s expression that he hadn’t had a good day. “Today was a little rough. He was asking for her. A lot.”
On his bad days, Maggie, his late wife was the only thing he would talk about and ask for.
“Is he in his room?”
“No. He’s in the community room, where we’re headed. It’s game night.”
I’d check and see if he was enjoying himself, if he was, I wouldn’t interrupt him. I’d leave a note for him with Monica that way she could give it to him on Tuesday and remind him I wouldn’t be here for our normal weekly game of chess.
As we approached the room, I heard a familiar voice. Instantly my body recognized who it belonged to while my brain was still processing the information. Even before I consciously knew that Cupcake Girl was there, I knew that she was.
It was the strangest phenomenon, whenever I was near her my body both relaxed and tensed up. I’d never experienced it before. She made me on edge and also totally calm. I wasn’t even sure how it was possible.
I’d found it unnerving the first few times I’d encountered her, but now I sort of got off on it. It made me feel...alive as opposed to the numbness that was my constant companion.
Things that used to give me pleasure, that used to give me a rush, I felt nothing about. Not happiness. Not anxiety. Not anger. Not excitement. Nothing.
Closing billion-dollar deals. Numb.
My friends succeeding. Numb.
Making a difference in people’s lives. Numb.
I told myself that it was better than feeling the excruciating pain which seemed to be the only other alternative. Numb was better than the pain I wasn’t even sure I could survive.
When I came around the corner, I saw that Mr. Harris was dancing with her. Cupcake Girl.
He was smiling from ear to ear, and she was laughing at something he’d said.
