Page 60 of Severed Rivalry
They mirror my feelings about my situation. But to that list, I’d add impotence. Not sexually, but desperately wanting to help and being unable to do even the smallest thing brought questions of my manhood and ability to protect to the forefront.
Call it toxic, but I don’t like not being able to protect what’s mine.
And make no mistake, Sariah is mine. If she comes with Renée and Rosie, then they are too.
Mine to protect. And nothing—not broken faces or fucked-up family or weird job situation—is going to stop me.
But first, I need sleep. And if my face throbs like it is, that will never happen. I look at the orange pill bottles on the nightstand, hating the effects, but needing the relief. Maybe half plus some Tylenol.
Apparently, that did it because I wake to sun shining through the window, Eleanor swishing her tail against the plush rug on the floor, and my sister with a shit-eating grin plastered across her freckled face.
Oh, fuck. What’s going on?
“Happy Friday. Want to sit out on the back deck with me?”
“I know a setup when I hear one. So, maybe. With an emphasis on maybe.”
“There’s coffee in it for you. And a berry smoothie.”
Gag. I’m so over the smoothies, I can barely stomach the thought. “Yippie,” I offer with a thick layer of sarcasm.
“Ellie, come on, baby. Let’s go outside.” My damn dog looks at her like she’s the best thing since raw beef bones. “See you in a few,” she adds for me.
I try the half plus Tylenol thing again, do my business, and brush my teeth the best I’m able. Not going to lie, the fuzz on the backs and my breath are a combination I don’t wish on anyone. I’m scheduling a hygiene appt the day the wires come off for a deep clean. I’m sure Clorox isn’t too much to ask.
My brother-in-law is not in his home office when I get downstairs, but their chef is. “Good morning, Mr. Murphy.”
“Good morning, Corinne. I wish you’d call me Cian. Any chance that’ll ever happen?”
“Probably not, Mr. Murphy. If your smoothie isn’t to your liking, let me know and I’ll make another.”
“Without ever tasting it, I’m going to say it’s not to my liking because it’s a smoothie. But I’m sure it’s one of the best I’ll ever have.”
She beams. “I’ll be taking requests when the wires come off. Don’t tell Mr. Barone,” she offers conspiratorially.
“God willing, I’ll be home by then, but we’ll coordinate incase.” I grab a mug of black coffee and head for the stone terraced “deck” as my sister calls it off the sitting room.
“How long did it take to get used to this view?”
“I can only speak for my second time, but I haven’t yet. I know I could ask, but I don’t want to know the money in this place. I haven’t even looked at my own books yet. Willingly ignorant isn’t smart, but my head would explode with the number of zeroes.”
“Well, I hope you’ll look at mine first. Fewer zeroes and all. Keep your head on your shoulders for another day.”
“Let’s get through your first surgery. Or at least give me access, and I’ll begin. You know I love you if I’m willing to do accounting.” She points her finger to the back of her throat in a puking gesture.
“I haven’t seen you do that since before I left for college.”
“When I was Renée’s age? It’s hard to call her that, but it fits her. And dare I say, it fits the three of you.”
I take a drag of coffee, sucking it across my teeth, and look out over what shouldn’t be a lawn. Wrong season, wrong climate. Maybe they spray it green?
“Last things first, why does it fit?”
“Because it means reborn. Perfect for its first iteration… even more so now.”
I nod and leave that hanging in the air.
“She’s amazing, Ci. I know I only got a fraction of time with her, but your girl is one hell of a woman.”
