Page 5 of Suddenly Entwined

Chris is a good brother, but I haven’t been fully honest with him, because I’m not sure he’ll understand. I can’t take the scolding. There isn’t anything he could say to me I haven’t already said to myself. He wasn’t too keen on Emilio whenever I mentioned grabbing supper with him or meeting up again in a new city. I should have listened.

“I miss it here, you know? I missed you,” I say, hoping that satisfies his doubts.

“Missed you too, sis.” He wraps me up in a tight hug, lifting me enough that my toes graze the floor.

He releases me and heads for the door.

“This month is already paid for, but Berg says he can be pretty flexible.”

Inwardly, I wince. How flexible are we talking? Can I pay him in dryer lint? Now that Chris is leaving, a million questions pop into my head. When is garbage day? Can I park in the driveway?Are the kids loud? But a different question bursts out of my mouth.

“What’s he like?”

Chris makes a face and shrugs. “Berg? Busy. Older. Kinda grouchy, to be honest.”

I’ve never even met the man and now he’s my landlord. Using grouchy as an adjective to describe him isn’t exactly giving me hope here.

“Fantastic,” I breathe, following my brother to the door to watch him climb in his Jeep.

Chris pauses, one foot on the runner.

“Berg is usually home by 4:30 or so.”

“Okay?”

“Don’t you think you might want to knock on his door? Introduce yourself?”

Talk money…

The idea of talking about my finances, or lack thereof, with some middle-aged grump gives me hives. I scratch my scalp where my messy bun has been tugging on the roots for too long.

“You know what? I’ll text him.” Chris shifts his focus to his phone screen. “Done. 4:30? Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do that.”

“It’s good to have you back, Caro.”

“It’s good to be back,” I say.

And that’s one of those autopilot lies. Because it isn’t good to be back, not really. Aside from getting reacquainted with my family, which has had its own challenges, there’s nothing herefor me right now. Chris has his girlfriend and his business, Dad works on his car, Mom is knee deep in volunteering, using my old room as a control station to battle invasive plant species, and I’m stuck. Trapped under the weight of a dumb decision. And I’m so damn doubtful about whether I have the strength to start over.

Chapter three

Carolina

He’s late.

The wooden blinds thud against the windowsill when I let them drop. 4:30 has come and gone and I’ve been waiting around for as long as I can to catch Berg before I have to leave for work, but he hasn’t shown up. Every time I hear car tires splashing through puddles on the road, I perk up and my heart pounds as I strain my ears to determine if the vehicle is headed up the drive. Is he really going to be grumpy like Chris said? Or was he just screwing with me? Will he make me sign some sort of tenancy agreement? What if he wants to check my credit score?

Oh my god, I should have thought of that sooner. Rain patters against the glass, the heavy cloud combining with myworries and making my new place feel drearier than it is. I quickly use the washroom before leaving, patting down my hopelessly frizzy curls that the humidity is doing no favours for. Smoky grey tiles line the huge glass-door shower and I can’t wait to get in there later. I gather my purse and zip up my jacket, rushing out to my car. Peering down the road one last time for any sign of Berg returning home, I hop in the driver’s seat and head out.

Annoyance pulses at the edges of my mind as I drive. Why didn’t he show up? My time is valuable too. And the last thing I need is him telling my brother that I didn’t care enough to meet up with him. At a stoplight, a group of women about my age cross the road. A wave of jealousy washes over me when I see their stylish athletic wear, the expensive coffees in their hands, the fresh highlights. I’ve been living bare bones for a year now, all my money going to my credit card and to keep my car running. But it will be worth it. I’ve set some money aside so that I can manage this move and so long as Berg doesn’t charge me an arm and a leg, I might be ahead for the first time in too long. The light changes and the women walk by and I set my focus back on where it should be. On starting over.

Pulling up at work a few minutes later, I park in the back lot and hold my breath as I speed walk past the full dumpsters against the fence line.

“Shoot,” I say, noticing that I’m a few minutes late.

My car clock must be slow. I practically burst through the back door into the kitchen. The scent of tomato and onion lingers in the air while I unzip my dripping coat and hang it up.

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