Page 3 of Give Me a Shot

Mo:

Hi Sugar Plum. Getting ready for bed?

Diana:

Yep. Just wanted to say good night.

Good night. Sleep tight.

Don’t let the bed bugs bite.

Love you.

Love you, too.

He checked the time. They’d finished texting hours earlier, before he’d had his life threatened. She’d be well into dreamland by now. And Diana herself hadn’t contacted him, so no sign of nightmares, either. He finished his soup and cleaned up. He could hear that the TV was on in the other half of his duplex. Mrs. Sargysan sometimes fell asleep before turning it off. He carefully made the rounds of each plant in the living room, adding a little water where needed. He checked the soil on his orchids, even though he’d done it the day before and knew it was too soon for water. Lights off downstairs. He went to Madison’s room and flicked on the light. Everything was as it should be. Her desk was tidy. At her bed, he smoothed her yellow-patterned bedspread and fluffed her pink pillows. He went over to the peace lily on her dresser and ran his fingers over the leaves to remove any dust. Standing in the doorway again before turning out the light, he surveyed the room and smiled. The riot of color in her room matched the joyful, silly riot of energy that was his daughter. She’d wanted to liven up his bedroom with bright colors once but had quickly understood that Daddyneeded a visually quiet space. His was perfect for him and hers was perfect for her. She knew he checked on her after she’d gone to sleep during her weeks at his house. She said it made her sleep better knowing that he did. What she didn’t know was that he couldn’t relax without his little routine of making sure that everything was right in her environment even if she wasn’t in it. Especially on a night like this when he’d been flooded by his own painful emotions and those of someone else.

It was a little past eleven by the time he finished his shower. The very hot water and vigorous massage cycle usually helped clear out any negative energy from the day, but tonight it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t thinking about the woman in specifics anymore. He was just weighed down. While he was washing his hair, he’d made the mistake of putting himself in her shoes, imagining what it might be like to lose one of his brothers. And to have to touch, to pack away their personal things alone. At night. The pain that the woman might have been feeling flashed through his body, and it almost knocked him to the ground. No wonder her reaction to his presence had been so strong.

What if her sister had also been alone? Had been attacked somehow?

If she had, the woman’s choice to confront him with a weapon in hand made sense.

He needed to get to bed. Get some sleep and let his mind reset. When he picked up too much from people, sleep was a good way to let go of emotions that weren’t his own. Crawling under the covers, he ran a hand over his beard and groaned.

Emotions from people I care about, fine. But why do I have to absorb strangers’ emotions, too?

Chapter Two

Jess

Returning to her dining room table, refreshed mug of tea warming her hands, Jess stopped short.

“Steinem,” she said. “The whole and entire point of getting you that toy laptop was so that you could mirror me and stop—” She put her mug on the table and cupped his sleek black-and-white bottom. “Stop parking yourself on mine every time I step away.” She nudged, and after a bit of resistance, the cat yawned and stood. Jess tapped the toy sitting in front of the chair beside hers. “That’s yours,” she said. “This is mine.”

Steinem shot a glance at the toy, a glance at Jess, then stalked to the other end of the table and sat, his back to her. Jess rolled her eyes.

“Okay, fine,” she grumbled, picking up her mug. She glanced at the corner of the screen. Still another ten minutes before her video call with her close friends Alice and Stephanie. She straightened the papers on her desk with one hand as she sipped. The first day of school was the following week. Her first day as Dr.Anderson, University of Michigan professor, the career she’d been dreaming of and striving toward since middle school. Along with her excitement about work, she also counted herself lucky to have found a place to shoot. Her competition days were over, but she still loved archery and needed it to be a part of her life.

She hadn’t been thrilled about the way she learned about the Michigan Folk School. Her car was the only one in the relativelyempty teacher’s parking lot with a flyer tucked under her windshield wiper. Jess had approached her car carefully, checking underneath it and in the backseat before getting inside. But once she’d read the flyer the anxious prickles that had shot over her skin faded, and curiosity bloomed.

She’d found a couple of indoor archery clubs that would have saved her the thirty-minute drive from Warrendale to Ann Arbor, but the ambiance of the Folk School, and the few people she’d already met there, made the commute more than worth it.

“Guess I’m doing all right, huh, Sty Sty?” she asked the cat, still giving her his back. “Back to the States. Truly started my career, my grown-up life.” A shower of sadness passed through her, and she readjusted in her seat to get rid of it. Something was missing from that picture. Her sister should have been there to share in this new stage with Jess, but she wasn’t. If Jess wanted a good start, she would need to keep doing what she had been—ignoring her grief, stuffing it away in the deepest corners of her mind. Allowing it the tiniest foothold would open the door for it to overtake her.

I already cried, I already grieved. Time to focus on the next thing.

According to the psychologist she’d seen briefly before she moved back, she was doing well. He’d shared that it was normal to just react to life after a cataclysmic event like losing a sibling, and that Jess would continue to do well if she lived one day at a time, focused on one step at a time. The fact that she’d started to regain interest in archery was a big deal. It meant that she was rebuilding her agency in life—beyond her career.

The video call ringtone went off from her laptop, bringing her back to the present.

“Buenas tardes!” Alice announced as she appeared on the screen.

The sight and sound of her friend brought a wave of excitement for an instant, but it quickly died down. Alice’s skin was bright pink.

“Buenas…tardes?” Jess said, confused.

“Your pronunciation’s getting better,” Alice said, half-smiling.“Though I probably can’t talk. I still have a looong way to go before I communicate well. At least people are kind and patient about me trying.”

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