AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m dyslexic,” I admit. I’m not ashamed, not anymore, but I’m still angry at a system that nearly failed me.
Hayden’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I take a sip of wine, relaxed despite the topic of conversation. Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” begins to pipe through the restaurant as if Ol’ Blue Eyes himself is commending me for having done, well, just that. I love this song. “So I get her frustrations. If it weren’t for my mom, I probably would have slipped through the cracks too.”
Hayden looks confused. “But . . .”
Time to dispel some myths. “It doesn’t mean I can’t read. Just that I had to learn how in a totally different way. The school did squat to help me figure it out. Unfortunately, Chari is now dealing with the same bullshit but from a different angle. Education is slow to change even though we have all of the resources.”
“Shit, Enzo. I knew you weren’t a fan of grade school, but I had no idea.”
There were good teachers too, ones who worked with my mother to find the resources I needed. Too bad it was such an uphill fucking climb for all of them.
“I’m just saying, I get why she’s banging her head against a wall. I don’t think leaving the job would be an issue for her.”
“So why do you think she’s unlikely to leave Bridgewater?”
This isn’t my story to tell, so I gloss over it as best I can. “Chari’s parents are divorced. Her dad just kind of left and never looked back. I think Chari feels like her mom needs her. She doesn’t want to take off like her father did.”
Hayden’s relationship with his parents is . . . complicated. They’ve never been very hands-on, and Hayden hated being sent away to boarding school. But even he winces at that.
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. But the thing is, her mom seems to be doing fine. She has a boyfriend, and according to Chari they’re getting pretty serious. The shop does well.”
I tilt my head and shrug, as if to indicate I’m not sure what to do with that. I can’t tell Chari her mother will be fine without her living there—that’s up to Chari.
“Back to my original question,” Hayden says. “How long are you planning on doing the long-distance thing?”
That’s a great question, and I only wish I could answer it.
“No idea. But I’ll admit, I’m pretty stoked to be going home. I cleared my schedule for the whole day Saturday and Sunday, enough time to see Chari and the family. Aside from the car ride, I promised myself no work for two full days. See? I’m balancing work and life. You should be proud.”
He looks skeptical.
“I am,” he mutters.
“What?” I ask as Hayden makes a face.
“The week is young,” is all he says before turning toward the window. It’s dark, nothing to see out there. Which means . . .
I look up, groaning. Giovanna Faustini, who I haven’t seen in weeks, is sauntering toward us. My good mood sours when I see the look on her face. She’s up to something, and I suspect it doesn’t bode well for either of us, me especially.
33
Chari
“This really sucks.”
Enzo looks at me through the phone. Thank God for video chat.
“It came out of nowhere, too,” he adds.
“It” is a Nor’easter that was supposed to have brought one to three inches but instead dumped more than a foot on us and close to the same in New York City, where they didn’t typically see as much snow as in PA.
I shift positions, wishing I’d used my laptop instead of attempting to prop the phone in my lap.
“Is that ours?” he asks when my glass of red wine flits onto the screen.
