Page 33 of Our Long Days
Her mom drops her off each morning after she refused rides from me. No one in her family has questioned why I hired her. Why would they? They’re clueless. Patrick even thanked me.
Thanked me for defiling his sister.
Tall shadows drape the yard as the sun sets. I gave her the day off to get her things packed, ready to move into her new abode. I sit in the single Adirondack chair on my porch, jaw clenched, when Patrick’s truck comes into view.
Florence hops out, smiling widely and greeting the goats as they hop over to her. She spots me at the top of the stairs and straightens before waving.
Another summer dress. Another test of my willpower.
“Hey,” Patrick greets through the open window. “You want me to park it out back?”
I nod. “Yeah, that works.”
He disappears behind the cabin, leaving Florence and me alone.
“Howdy, neighbor.” She’s leaning sideways from the weight of her tote bag, and I jog down the steps, reaching for it.
“Let me take that,” I offer, and she hands it over without argument.
“I’m all for feminism, but that thing weighs a ton.”
“Jeez, you’re telling me. What’s in here?”
We slowly walk to the A-frame, the goats trotting behind us.
“It’s my bag of ‘Oh-shit-I-forgot-to-pack-these’.” She grins. “Basically, everything I own.”
Patrick is already carrying her stuff into the two story pinecabin. A large triangular window sits in the center, providing a perfect view of the forest from the bedroom.
It’s nothing special, but from Flo’s sparkling eyes, it’s everything.
“I can’t believe it’s mine.” Her voice is airy, floating with the gentle breeze. It’s not the first time she’s seen it, but I appreciate the excitement of having your own space for the first time.
There isn’t much to unload, and Florence instructs us to dump it in the living room and shoos us away to get changed.
Patrick and I stop beside his truck.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
I rear back at his abruptness. The front door’s open, so I guide him out of earshot.
“Why wouldn’t this be a good idea?” I ask.
He scrubs a hand down his face, sighing. “I love my sister, and she’s been busting her ass applying for jobs, but she’s not exactly qualified or experienced. Flo can be…unreliable sometimes, and you’ve a lot on your plate. I don’t want?—”
“Pat, I’m gonna stop you there,” I interrupt. It takes all my strength not to crack my knuckles in frustration. “Who I hire is my decision. It’s better than some stranger sticking their nose in my business. Florence is more than capable of helping me get my shit together. Maybe all she needed was someone to take a chance on her.”
I don’t mention that Florence is under the impression I hired her blind, something she’s not brought up again.
“Okay. Point taken. I hope it works out,” he surrenders. Opening the door to his truck, he pauses before climbing behind the wheel. “Do me a favor and watch out for her, though, will you? It’s great having her home, but something’s different. Put it down to brotherly intuition. You know how it is.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah, you’re like a big brother to her.”
My stomach rolls with nausea, vomit building in my throat. I steady myself on the truck door.
“Whoa, you okay? You’re white as a sheet.” He grips my shoulders. “Is it vertigo?”
