Page 114 of Heartfelt Pain
Jane’s head whips over. The recently arrived couple bow their heads together, clearly wondering about the entertainment.
Ben runs a hand through his hair. He needs a haircut. “Are you really that angry?” It comes out as a frustrated whisper, aware there are other paying customers. “We pointed out that you needed to take care of your body. Not retire at the age of twenty-seven.”
“But I can retire at the age of twenty-seven.” I graduated with a general studies degree. I expected boring office work and a pension. They say money can’t buy you happiness but it can get you some peace. I’m more financially stable than I ever thought I’d be.
I don’t have to get up at five in the morning. I don’t have to cram my feet into heels. Or work until eight at night.
“I want to go on an Alaskan cruise.” In some ways, it feels like the most honest I’ve been with my cousin in a long time. I didn’t mean to stop talking to him. It felt like complaining if I ever brought up how tired I was. I pulled him to New York. Asked him for help. If it weren’t for me, he could focus solely on his law firm and not spend so much time on me as a needy customer.
Ben is at a loss as he stares at me, eyes wide. “We could help,” he says after a moment.
“I know.” My friends are trying to help. I know that.
“You. . . you’re really considering this aren’t you?”
I grip the coffee mug, clinging to thewarmth.
“You know if you put the idea out there and change your mind people might take it as a sign to try something in the future.” Ben might mean it as practical advice, but it’s also a warning.
“I’m sure about this.” As sure as I’ll ever be.
Abe comes flying out of the kitchen. I clutch my coffee tighter, the man whirling past me.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
The last time I saw Abe this upset, he and his dad had argued about tickets to the Knicks.
He places a hand on the back of Ben’s chair. “You can’t actually be serious?”
I give a half-hearted shrug.
“All because I called you out for your appalling lifestyle habits?”
“I just want to point out that you’re hardly the healthiest person either,” I mutter.
“You can’t just spring this on us!”
Jane smiles at a customer walking out. When the door shuts, she says a few words to her son in Japanese all the while refilling someone’s water glass.
“Mom! She’s quitting!” he replies.
“I’m retiring.” I don’t appreciate the implication that I gave up. “I’ve been given a lot to think about regarding my financial and lifestyle decisions.”
“Decisions.” Abe stomps a foot, and I’d expect nothing less from his dramatics. “You’re making a crappy decision, Ren!”
“Why?” I bat back. “Why can’t I retire early and sleep in and not deal with crime bosses who don’t even wipe their own asses?”
Both their mouths drop open. Abe’s is a perfect little ‘O’ and his brows nearly reach his hairline. I might not like all my clients, but I don’t shit where I work. Other thanragging on the Zimins, I keep my harsher opinions to myself.
“I’m going to retire,” I tell them, my chest swelling with a tired breath. “And I’m going to go on an Alaskan cruise. And if you’re nice, I’ll send you a postcard.”
“Have you even thought about us!” Abe shouts, his hand at his side balled into a fist.
“It’s not like we’ll stop being friends.” Abe and Ben are practically married. We spend Christmas mornings with the Fujimori’s.
“You think I want the Stuarts hanging out at my restaurant all day?” he asks. “You think they’re going to abide by the rules, Ren? Chances are they’ll fuck shit up. This could ruin us.”
My insides squirm. It’s one thing to retire and sail off to the Bahamas. It’s another to fuck over the Fujimori’s.
