Page 13 of The Likelihood Of You

She reads out her number as I type it in as a new contact on my phone, and I text her on the spot so she has mine, too, before we both slide our phones away.

“I’ll be in touch over the weekend and let you know if I hear anything.”

“Thank you. This has honestly made my day- my year, actually.” She says, still beaming.

“I’m glad.”

I am glad that she’s happy. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s probably had a rocky few months here, moving to a new city, trying to find work but always meeting a dead end. It’s what I went through, so that fact I’ve offered her that stepping stone must put her mind at rest. Like how I felt when I got the job at Josephine’s, this bookstore in Manhattan that belonged to another one of my favourite people on the planet, it was the first time I had a full night’s sleep in months.

But as I tell myself that, the stress that had melted away earlier soon solidifies again, and the questions return, too. Because…what if she was exactly like Darcie and had a better way of hiding it?

I’m snatched away from my thoughts by the few raindrops that bounce onto my cheeks. I hadn’t even realised how dark the sky had gotten over the last few moments until the heavens had opened up.

We both looked at each other, our eyes holding for a few seconds before mine dropped to her parting mouth.

“I uh…I better get going before the subway floods.” She shouts over the rain slapping on the sidewalk, lifting her bag over her head to avoid the rain as she does. If I had an umbrella, I’d give it to her in a heartbeat, but I don’t. I wish I did, though. Luckily, the steps to the subway were only a few feet behind her.

“I’ll text you,” I shout back.

She releases a hand from the bag above her head to give me a quick goodbye wave before she flees toward the subway. I watch her as she quickly disappears down the steps, before I head back into Pin’s and call my driver.

The entire car ride consisted of me with my forehead pressed against the cold glass of the window, which helped the headache that had manifested slowly start to ease up. The bumper-to-bumper traffic also gave me time to question whether what I’d just done was a big mistake.

I couldn’t pinpoint what I was feeling exactly, or whether what I’d just offered would end up as a good thing or the total opposite. The only thing I felt that was clear was that I knew something would come from this. I could feel it. My mind was just having trouble deciding if it would help me or hurt me.

My thoughts become halted for the time being; the notification sound from my phone snatching my attention and bringing my head away from the window. I look down at the screen, clicking on the notification, my eyes landing on the three words, and a picture of Florence on the train with a copy of Wicker Manor in her hands, which makes me want to throw caution to the wind and trust this girl.

She did guess the plot twist of my favourite book, after all.

Florence

Today 17:55 PM

I KNEW IT !! ??

Chapter five

Florence

And cue the realisation in three…two…one…

“Oh for crying out loud. I’m going to have to write that down somewhere, Flo. Maybe I can ask one of the nurses for another clock and tell them to move the time back five hours and label it so I don’t forget. You must be sick of my memory by now.”

“No!”

Yes.But I didn’t mind. I’d actually started timing how long it took her to ask me what time I woke up and gasp at the fact that I was still in bed. Today was eighteen seconds. It’s not too shabby compared to last week’s peak of forty-five.

“Nanna, it’s fine. How are you today anyway?”

“Oh, you know,” The clink of her tea cup settling onto the saucer rattles through the phone. “I forget about this day all year, and it sneaks up on me out of nowhere. I’ve already worked through one packet of tissues, and it’s only noon.” I hear some rustling on her end right before a tiny sniffle and the unmistakable sound of herscrunching her tissue back up her sleeve. “I could do with a Nanna and Flo cuddle today.”

“Yeah…I think I could, too.”

I wanted to forget about today too, but the familiar tickle from Mum's gold heart locket that hadn't left my neck in years and my alarm clock and its obnoxiously large numbers reminded me the second I opened my eyes and turned to check the time.

September 14th, today, marked nine years since I lost my parents.

Throughout the rest of the year, I rarely got sad about my parents. Apart from the times I’ll hear any song that was released in the sixties start playing, and when I do, I’m magically transported back to our midnight blue-tiled kitchen, where Mum would be holding me in one arm and a cake batter-soaked whisk in the other, while Dad had Syd on his shoulders.

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