Page 113 of Time Stops With You

Annoyed for reasons I don’t want to explore, I stomp to my apartment door and head straight to the kitchen for a snack. There are plenty of fruits and nuts, but nothing withpreservatives or food coloring. Where’s the chocolate? The corn chips? The candies?

Then it strikes me. I’ve been on a health journey trying to wean Josiah off of fast food. Unfortunately, the ‘Junk Food Craving’ Nardi is paying for the ‘We Need To Clean Up Our Diet’ Nardi.

I’m debating whether I should head back out and go hunting for something to snack on when my phone rings.

It’s Sunny.

“Hey, Sunny,” I say, infusing a brightness into my voice that I don’t feel, “everything’s on track for the end of the month. Don’t worry.”

“Nardi, I heard about your wrist.”

My fingers tighten on the phone. “What? How?”

“Cullen told Darrel to inform me. He said you got hurt yesterday and that the doctor put you on two weeks of rest.”

I grit my teeth. “He told you all that?”

“Yes, he did.” Sunny sounds genuinely worried. “Are you okay, Nardi? Do you need anything?”

“I’m perfectly fine. Everything will proceed as planned.”

“Nonsense. We would never want you to jeopardize your health. Taking care of yourself is more important. We can work together next time.”

I see my potential pay check swirling down the drain. Urgency in my voice, I insist, “Sunny, really. I’m okay. I can handle it.”

“Cullen told us you’d say that.” She chuckles. “He made Darrel promise not to be swayed by you.”

“Cullen doesn’t speak for me,” I snap.

“Oh no. This isn’t because of him. I, also, think you should focus on getting better.”

“But Sunny?—”

“Even if you’re not catering, I’d still love to have you at the farmhouse.”

My shoulders slump. Why would I show up to her party when I’m not catering and I won’t know anyone? “Isn’t it your mom’s birthday?”

“Yeah, but we see mom all the time. It would make her so happy to talk to someone new about Belize. Everyone’s already heard the same stories so they don’t react much anymore. But be warned, she’ll chat your ear off.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say noncommittally.

“Great! And I mean it, Nardi. Please let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure.”

We hang up and I grit my teeth. Losing that pay check hurt, but the pain quadruples exactly thirty minutes later when I get an alert from the group chat for the PTA Moms.

Has anyone seen or heard from Josiah Davis’ guardian?

Her name’s on the list but she hasn’t been active.

@Nardi? Hey, I see you’re in the group chat, but you haven’t been speaking. We want to rent a photo booth for the annual fundraiser, but the school says it’ll have to come from our own pocket. We’re each putting $500 in to get it together. Can you handle that?

Five hundred dollars?

My jaw drops. That number is astronomical. Will the photo booth be lined with literal gold?

I ignore the messages and stuff my phone into my back pocket. Catering for Sunny’s party would have easily covered that cost and more. I’d be able to save face with the other moms and happily pay for that booth.

---