Page 39 of Die for Me
“Don’t tell Mom,” she says around a mouthful of chicken, “but Dad’s been acting really weird lately.”
With the mask covering my mouth, the only part of my face I have to control are my eyebrows.
“How so?” I say, feigning surprise.
Sophie shrugs.
“He’s tired all the time,” she complains. “He spends, like, the entire day on the couch watching TV. He doesn’t really even talk to me or Leila unless we talk to him first. It’s like he’s a robot.”
“Huh.” I search for what to say next. “So if he doesn’t talk to you and sits on the couch all day, what do you even do when you’re there?”
Sophie slurps her noodles so aggressively that her broth splashes onto the table.
“I’m almost thirteen, Auntie. I can keep myself busy,” she says. Then she pauses, like she’s about to confess something shameful. “And besides, Leila and I hang out.”
This I did not expect. My left eye twitches, and then I clear my throat.
“Oh?” I say. “What do you do?”
“All sorts of things,” Sophie says. “We bake, sometimes. Last week we made a pumpkin roll, and before that we made a cheesecake from scratch. Also we watch alotof music videos. She’s a dancer too, so she’s been helping me out with my routine. She’s really nice to me.”She pauses, her eyes downcast. “I don’t think Dad is going to come to my recital Sunday. I told him about it like three times, and every time he acts like he’s never heard of it. Leila said that she wants to be there, but it might be awkward with Mom.”
My heart aches for Winona. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll be happy that her daughter feels at home with her new stepmother, but I also know that learning that Sophie is making memories that Winona often doesn’t have the time to provide would sting. She’s already lost her husband to Leila; I can’t imagine she’ll be excited about sharing her daughter too.
“Do you want Leila to come to your recital?” I ask Sophie.
Sophie lowers her chopsticks. She has her mother’s protuberant eyes, but hers are framed all around with thick, doll-like lashes. When she was born, I stared at her for minutes, stunned that my best friend could make such a perfect being.
“Yes?” she asks hopefully. “Can you ask Mom if it’s okay?”
I bite my lip. I imagine Leila dressed in a sleek Lululemon athletic set, helping guide Sophie through her choreography. The pride that will shine on Sophie’s face when she gets through her routine onstage and looks into the crowd to see Leila beaming up at her.
“I can ask,” I say, reluctantly.
An hour and a half later, I keep my promise. Sophie hugs me good night and springs inside her house to take a shower before bed, and I linger in her mother’s foyer, leaning against the wall to keep myself upright. After a full week of work and several nights of subpar sleep, I feel like I’m going to pass out, but I figure I can’t until I deliver this message.
Winona responds just as expected.
“She wants Leila to come? Why?” she snips. Her mouth is pressed thin, and the crease between her furrowed brows deepens. Then shesighs. “What am I thinking? Of course Leila can come if Sophie wants her there. I should be grateful that she’s treating her well. Her father on the other hand…”
“Yeah,” I mutter. Navigating being Brandon’s coworker and Winona’s best friend has required delicacy; we have a general understanding that I don’t bring up what goes on at work. But this feels important. “He’s been strange in the hospital too. Sloppier with his cases. And he missed a STEMI Saturday. I had to come in for it.”
Winona gapes at me.
“Wait. You mean last Saturday? Isn’t that when you were out with Julian?”
I wince. Hearing Julian’s name stings like my upper lip after a wax.
“Yeah, well.” I sigh, then change the subject. “Look, Sophie is genuinely concerned that Brandon won’t show up for the recital, and I know for afactthat he’s not on call or on service that day. Just…wanted to let you know.”
Winona is all fire and brimstone.
“That is unacceptable,” she hisses. “I’m going to talk to him. Thank you for letting me know.”
“Of course,” I say, creeping for the door. I have a forty-minute drive and a minimum twenty-minute walk with a cooped-up Onix ahead of me, and I don’t think I can manage an additional second on my feet. It’s not fatigue that plagues me so much as a bones-deep weakness, like it takes all the energy I have left to hold myself up. “I’m, um, going to head out.”
Winona nods, then reaches for me to give me a hug. I step just out of her reach, then point up to my mask.
“Still not sure what I’ve got,” I remind her.
