Page 5 of Ruby Mercy

“Sorry to disappoint.”

She groans. “Girl.Girl.You are young and fun and beautiful. Someone would love to tap that.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Do not say that. What if I don’t want to be tapped?”

“Please. Even through the phone, I can smell your sexual frustration. How long has it been? Be honest.”

Never. I will never, ever admit the truth.

Having a small child and trying to keep a decent roof over that child’s head, and clothes on that child’s ever-growing body, and food in that child’s forever hungry stomach? It’s a lot. There is no time for me to do all of that and also bring a man into the sacred space that is our lives together.

Harmony starts humming theJeopardytheme song.

“Marcus asked me out last week,” I say quickly, scrambling for a response.

“Who is Marcus?”

“You remember Marcus. The guy who owns that surf shop near my house. He’s stopped me on a few of my morning walks.”

“You have never once in your life mentioned Marcus to me. Is that because you just made him up?”

“I did not make him up! He has curly blonde hair and he is shirtless eighty percent of the times I see him. At this point, I think that’s his plan.”

“He’s trying to woo you with his abdominals. A tale as old as time. Is it working?”

Considering he’s asked me out three times and the best response I’ve given him is a nervous shrug before I sprinted away, I’d say no. That isn’t Marcus’s fault, though. He just regularly catches me at a bad time. When I’m passing by his surf shop on my way home, I’ve just finished my walking loop which takes me right past the last mansion I worked at.

The windows have been dark since Ilya died.

It says nothing bad about Marcus that when I see him standing shirtless on the sidewalk, my mind is already filled with thoughts and wishes and regrets about another man.

It just says I’m pathetic.

“Maybe it could work,” I lie. “I don’t know. Dating is such a hassle right now. I’m so busy with Yuliana and my job. Maybe when she is older.”

“It doesn’t do you or Yuliana any favors to squash down your own hopes and dreams. If you give all of yourself away to other people without getting anything back, you’ll burn out.”

I sigh. “You’re right, but Marcus the Surfer Boy is not the answer to my hopes and dreams.”

“How would you know?” she snaps. “You’ve never gone on a date with him. Maybe that surf shop of his is a secret billionaire-maker. Within a year, he’ll have chains all over the country and enough money that you’ll never have to work again.”

I hum, sarcastically considering her theory. “Oh, yes, I’m sure his surf shop will take off big in the center of the country. You know how those Midwesterners love their surfboards.”

Harmony laughs. “Forget about the details and focus on the bigger picture. You need to be open to all of the wonderful things life could be offering you. A gift is not a gift until you open it.”

Now, that is hard to argue with. I pull up along the curb outside of Yuliana’s daycare and switch the phone to my other ear. “Well, I’ll let you get back to writing your fortune cookies. I need to go inside and get Yuliana.”

“‘You will meet a handsome, shirtless man. Open your heart to him,’” Harmony intones in a mystical voice.

I bark out a laugh. “You’re absurd.”

“Give Yuliana kisses for me,” she demands. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

We hang up and I pocket my phone. The daily phone calls started as a way to squeeze in time to talk with Harmony. The first six months of Yuliana’s life, we managed to get on the phone once, maybe. I quickly learned that if I wanted to make time for something, I had to schedule it.

Now, Yuliana loves video chatting with Harmony in the evenings. I can also set her up with a puzzle or some Legos and get ten minutes to talk on the phone before Yuliana gets bored and steals the conversation. But driving gives me far too much quiet time to think. And thinking leads to cracking open the lid of the Kirill box. Seeing as how the Kirill box holds an overwhelming amount of angst, ennui, and trauma, I think it’s best to keep that nastiness locked up tight.

I’m walking up the front sidewalk when the glass door to the daycare center opens and Yuliana comes out. She’s holding the hand of one of her teachers, Ms. Albrecht.

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