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The sharp sound of silverware on ceramic fills the air and we both make our way into the dining room. Emma’s blue eyes meet mine, and she tilts her head toward the kitchen, encouraging me to duck in and say my hellos.
I peek in and my mother hands me a bowl of mashed potatoes to take to the table. I do so, noticing a new strained worry in her eyes. But she gestures me out with one hand, and I stand by my chair, waiting. Emma refuses to meet my gaze, and Alex lifts his shoulders in confusion.
We all sit down as mom walks in. “I hope everyone had a good day,” she says, her gaze skimming over all of us.
Emma nods silently, dishing up food only to push mashed potatoes around her plate. To my right, Alex nods. “I made plans for the future,” he says as we all put food on our plates.
“Thank you for dinner, Mom,” I say as he takes a breath. Everyone echoes my statement, then Alex continues.
“When I’m better, I’m going to run that club,” he says.
Emma’s eyebrows lift, but I field this one. “The club where you got shot?” I ask as mom stares at him, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth.
He nods, his mouth full as he gestures with his fork, like he’s conducting an orchestra. “It’s only ten minutes away.”
“That’s not the problem,” I say, holding back a laugh. “I’m pretty sure they banned you for life, and you got shot there.”
He rolls his eyes as if I’m overreacting. “You can’t ban someone if they own the place.”
“You can stop someone from owning the place if they’re banned. Besides, where are you going to find the money to buy a club?” I ask as my mother glances at me, unspoken worry in her eyes.
“A loan, of course,” he says, and I wince.
My mom takes that opportunity to change the direction of the conversation. “How was your day, Lila?” I can see the tired lines etched into her face, but there’s still something so youthful about her. She’s a beautiful woman, but she’s never tried to date after dad left us.
“Fine,” I say, the lie so easy and automatic I almost feel ashamed of myself. “How was yours?” Maybe if I can turn things around on her, she’ll let it go. Thankfully, she does. “And yours, Emma?”
Emma jolts in her seat, then takes a quick bite to avoid answering the question. “Fine,” she says around the mouthful. Mom gives her a disapproving look.
“But I could do it. I could run a club. I’d be good at it,” Alex says. I agree with him. He’s always been a charismatic person, when he’s not getting into fights.
But the thought of him taking out a loan when I’m already responsible for his medical bills terrifies me. I don’t want more debt, and I don’t want him to ruin his life. He’s never been good with money. He’s a charmer, not a thinker, and I say that will all the love in my heart.
“How was your day, Mom?” I ask.
“Fine,” Mom says. I’d smile if I didn’t feel so beaten down. “Work was busy. Karina quit. Or got fired. I’m not sure who to believe.” The diner she works at is always filled with drama, but somehow, she’s managed to avoid all of it and is their longest-standing employee.
And the conversation continues even as I find myself lost in thought.
Later, alone in my room, I sit in the glow from my laptop as I balance numbers and sigh over expenses vs income. The numbers work, but only barely. Between bills and medical payments for Alex, we’re precariously close to not being able to pay this month. Next month could mean a missed or late payment and interest.
I glance again at the email that brings me hope. A deal with a flowers-by-phone company that expressed interest in partnering with me. But that promise of an easy fix to my problems waits behind corporate red tape and various people to sign off on the deal.
As I exhale, my ribs deflate and tears sting in my eyes. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.
“Is everything okay in here?” Alex asks.
“Fine,” I say, the word bitter on my lips.
He walks in to stand at the edge of my bed. “You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not mom,” he teases, but his words hit home. I don’t want to burden mom more than I feel I already do.
I force a smile to my lips, my head lifting and lowering in what I hope is a convincing enough nod. The knot in my throat tightens, and the tears threaten to overflow as I return my attention to the screen before me. Maybe he’ll think screen fatigue is the reason I’m about to cry.
Alex lingers, his fingertips touching my foot, tickling me like he had when we were younger. But I’m not in the mood for fun. You know where I am if you need me,” he says, before making his way out of my room, awkwardly posed on his crutches.
I stare at the numbers on the screen, silently begging them to change, to stretch a little bit further. But they don’t.
Chapter Five
