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“Of course,” she said, with all the ease of someone speaking of the weather report. “Two I can think of. And before you ask, one lived, and the other didn’t. I still talk to the man who lived, and I still mourn the woman who died.”
“A good woman, huh?” I asked quietly.
“God no, she was a battleaxe, took no one’s shit, even if she gave plenty of her own. She was a nasty woman and had to have everything her own way.”
I laughed and turned to face Sheila. “Then why the hell did you like her so much?”
Sheila’s eyes darted around, and I could see the signs of someone searching for an answer that someone else could understand. I wanted to tell her to say what was on her mind, but I waited instead. Waiting to let others have their turn to speak had always been difficult for me, but I’d like to think I’m getting better at it.
“She was difficult, but it was also difficult not to respect how she handled things. Her life hadn’t been easy. She’d had four children and lost all of them before they reached twenty-five. Her husband had been a drunk. A mean one on occasion and always wandering into someone else’s bed. She was alone in the world, and rather than let it beat her down, she took life by the short hairs and led it herself,” Sheila explained with a light shrug.
I thought about that for a moment before nodding. “I can see that. You didn’t like her, but you respected her.”
“Sometimes it’s as simple as that.”
“Now, if only more things could be that simple.”
She smiled. “I think things are simpler than people believe. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s in the human condition to complicate even the simplest things. Perhaps in some strange way, we’re only happy when our lives are difficult.”
“I can’t remember ever feeling happy when my life was a struggle,” I told her with a laugh, finally picking up my mug of tea. “I always wanted to get to the point where things weren’t hard.”
“That’s sort of my point. Look at people with the things they need and whose lives are going smoothly. They’re usually the most bored and impulsive.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like people wanting to be miserable,” I said, gesturing vaguely with my mug. “That sounds like people wanting to be challenged. They want a goal to strive for, and when everything has fallen into place, they don’t have anything to aim for, no drive to keep them moving forward. Sure, striving for something means you’re struggling and probably dealing with some bullshit, but that doesn’t mean people like being miserable.”
“I suppose that would explain all those crazy fools who start climbing mountains or diving out of planes,” Sheila said with a chuckle.
“I went sky diving once,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
“And scuba diving before that.”
“Like…three times.”
“And then there was that dragster racing you did.”
I finally gave in and laughed. “Are you trying to make a point that I’m bored?”
“Well, I would if you were still doing things like that,” she said, raising a brow. “Before Rita, you were living an interesting life, dangerous and foolish, but interesting all the same. And now what do you do? You come to work. You do your job with that same little smile on your face. You make people laugh and feel good, then you go home, watch TV, eat whatever is in the fridge or closest to your apartment.”
My good humor withered and died inside me, and I looked down at my cup, shifting my feet uncomfortably. “I don’t have a lot of time after my shifts.”
It was a lame excuse, and Sheila wasn’t one to ignore such an easy target. “You haven’t been working more than you were before.”
“Fine,” I said, trying to ignore how sullen I sounded. “Then what should I do?”
“Actually, I think the first thing you should do is insist someone puts you into a long-term care position instead of all this bouncing around you’ve been doing,” she said, arching a brow. “Because more than having something interesting in your life, I think you need someone to focus on, someone to bond with. That’s always been one of your skills, and it’s going to waste with all this hopping around you’ve been doing.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I muttered, barely managing to stop myself from scuffing my shoes against the floor.
“There is no ‘I guess’ Kevin,” she chided me, and I had to resist the urge to cringe at her disappointment. “You’re still young, and instead of all that fooling around with boys, you should be out living your life and doing something with yourself. Even if that something is stupid, dangerous things that make you happy.”
I looked up, trying to fight the smile that threatened to pull at my lips. “And what if fooling around with those boys is my latest stupid, dangerous thing?”
She gave me a withering look. “Those boys aren’t more than a reason for you to feel something, not a thing you like doing.”
“I mean, I definitely…”
“Mindless sex with strangers you don’t know isn’t the same as the adventurous, bold things you did before.”
