Page 35 of Bullet
It was best to go our separate ways. My dad would understand, and my godfather would just have to get over it. It’d been close to three weeks since I last spoke to Harry, and about two since he stopped trying to contact me. It bothered me more than it should, but I just had to remind myself that it was for the best and move on.
“Good morning,” a groggy voice grumbled into the silence.
“Morning,” I replied.
Darrien rounded the corner in his wheelchair and made his way up to the fridge. He opened the door, blocking most of the view I had of him, and I didn’t think twice about it until he shut the door with the orange juice in hand. I was fairly certain that I’d put the orange juice on the top shelf of the fridge, as I often mistakenly did, resulting in his inability to reach it, but maybe I’d subconsciously put it back where he could get to it. The small conspiracy that tried to sneak its way into my brain was snuffed out as Darrien rolled over to just below the kitchen cabinet where we kept the cups and used his grabber to open it and sat struggling for a couple of minutes trying to get a cup down.
“Are you just going to stand there watching me struggle?” he snapped.
“Sorry!” I yelped.
I scuttled over from my pan and pulled a cup down and set it on the counter, then pulled the orange juice carton from his hand and poured some into the cup. When I opened the fridge door, I started to put the carton back in a spot along the doors where Darrien could reach it, but then stopped and intentionally put it back on the top shelf. Just to see what happened next time he needed orange juice.
Darrien made his way to a spot at the kitchen table against the wall and I returned to my pan to pull out the eggs I’d made. “Do you want some toast?” I asked.
“Sure,” he replied.
I scooped the eggs out of the pan onto a plate and set the plate on the small kitchen peninsula that jutted out from one wall and separated the kitchen from the eating area on the other side where the table was. Then I turned my back to grab the loaf of bread from on top of the fridge and slide two pieces of it into the toaster. I cracked a couple of fresh eggs into the pan to start cooking them for myself, and when I heard the toast pop, I flipped around to grab and butter the slices.
With the toast in hand, I flipped around to drop them on Darrien’s plate, but it was gone. I looked over to the table and the plate was sitting in front of him and he was already working on the eggs. “Um…” I started. “Did you grab that, or did I give it to you?”
“I grabbed it,” he responded. “Why?”
Darrien’s wheelchair wasn’t a quiet device, and more than that, the place I’d set the plate on the island was almost dead center, where it’d be difficult for Darrien to reach from the edge.
Was I losing my mind?
“I didn’t even hear you move,” I said.
His brow furrowed. “How is that possible? I haven’t even oiled my wheels recently.” His words were steeped in such genuine confusion that it was enough to convince me I was just distracted and not thinking clearly. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Maybe. Sorry.”
I buttered Darrien’s toast and brought it to him, then returned to the pan to finish my own eggs and put in some toast of my own. When my plate was done, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and went to sit down across from Darrien. He was swiping through his phone, not really focused on anything in particular, but I couldn’t stop staring at him.
There was no way he was able to get out of his chair. I had to change him. We’d paid thousands of dollars ramping his home so that he could get around. The more I thought about it, the more insane the idea seemed. Having Harry on the brain was having an adverse effect on my mind.
“So how’s work going?” Darrien asked. “Any word about that promotion?”
My bosses had been talking about moving me up again for a couple of months now, and I’d made the mistake of mentioning it to Darrien, who never missed an opportunity to remind me how much more money we need coming in to make ends meet. I had about forty grand left of the settlement my dad got for the car accident, but Darrien didn’t like making me use that money on him or anything he needed. Even with that considered, I used the money each month to pay the mortgage and utilities at his house, plus cover my student loan payments each month. The settlement money seemed like a lot but wasn’t for how quickly those things were eating into it.
“Yeah, they are telling me that I’m gonna get it, but it probably won’t happen until after yearly reviews,” I said. “As long as my first review goes well, I should get it and a nice raise.”
“When are reviews?”
I took a sip of my water before saying, “They’ll happen in December, right before the holidays.”
I took a bite of my eggs and was immediately filled with warmth. I’d only gotten breakfast out of Harry a couple of times before I decided to cut him off again, but it reminded me of his smile, and our passionate nights, and his adorable cats. All things that gave me a fuzzy feeling in my stomach that I rarely got. Suddenly, I was playing out the scenario of showing up at the Taphouse again. Approaching Harry and apologizing for going ghost and starting us up again. I could probably get him to forgive me again. To take me back to his place. My skin was already burning, imagining his hands on it, his lips on my neck, his arms lifting me with ease…
“Hey!” I jumped at the sudden yell and looked across the table, and Darrien was glaring at me. “Why aren’t you answering me?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Then pay better attention. I’m sitting five feet from you. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I replied.
“It has nothing to do with the fact that you haven’t seen Harry in a few weeks?” he asked, and my eyes got a little wider. “Yeah, I know, Celia. I’m not stupid. You’ve been coming right home after work, hanging around here on your days off, plus I can tell that you miss him, even though yousworeyou weren’t developing feelings.”
