Chapter 33
Fiona
On my way to work on Tuesday, I saw a homeless man sitting under the sidewalk scaffolding on the corner. I didn’t have any money to put in his cup that he clutched, because I didn’t carry any cash. Since it was the corner where my work was, I couldn’t avoid him.
Although I would see the occasional down-and-out person, it was rare that I would see them on the way to work. For one thing, work was a short three blocks away from my apartment, so my chance of spotting one was slim. To top it off, the police did frequent checks of our area on horseback, which helped to keep the squatters away.
This dirty man lay next to his shopping cart, which held a few items. He had a cord attached to it on his belt loop. The advertisement for an optical center on the front of the wire basket had a close-up shot of a woman looking through glasses. A slogan, Improve your view and let Dr. Harris keep an eye on you! was underneath the photo.
As I got closer to him, he fluttered his eyes open and shook the cup of change. He looked straight at me with his piercing blue eyes. Mesmerized by them—they were almost as clear as water—I shivered. I looked away, hoping he’d be gone soon.
It was the third consecutive day I had added the vitamin supplement that Daisy had recommended to my morning cup of coffee. I’d sworn off taking sleeping pills after my extremely dilated pupils and grogginess from the almost overdose. Last night, I had naturally slept for seven hours, and I woke up feeling rested. After my espresso, I ran around work and got nearly double the number of tasks done that I usually did.
After three, I stopped drinking caffeine so I could wind down for the rest of the day. It allowed for better sleep.
Later that night, Bridget came over with some of the members of Celtic Crescendo. They were a sight for sore eyes. Oh, how I’d missed them. I missed playing my violin, and my heart ached to do it again. Tears of joy poured out when I saw her.
“Bridget!” I hugged her as the others came in behind her.
“We can see who her favorite is,” Peter teased.
“Yeah, well, what are you going to do?” I chuckled.
Tonya came in last, carrying a case of Guinness. She set it down on the kitchen table. “I was surprised to see a bum panhandling outside your apartment. He had a cart. Have you seen this guy hanging around?”
“Unfortunately, I have. He was near my job earlier, and when I got home, I saw him a block away from my place. I’m hoping it’s temporary and he finds somewhere else to go.”
Bridget sat on the couch and pulled markers out of her purse. “We can sign your cast if you want.”
“That would be great.” Every time I looked at the cast, it reminded me that I was hurt because of my father’s stupidity. Cam died because of it. Making it look different would be a welcome change. I sat beside her. She wrote, Get well soon because we miss you. “Believe me, I really miss playing with you guys,” I said.
“When do you come back?” Tonya asked as she sat down, took the marker, and wrote, Two violins are always better than one.
“About a week. It’s already been too long.”
Dan said, “My turn.” He squeezed in on the couch and wrote on the cast.
“You have a message on your machine. It’s blinking,” Bridget said. She opened a bottle of Guinness and took a drink.
“Yeah, it’s for Amber.”
“Where is she, work?” Dan asked.
“No, she’s visiting her family in California. The message is from Gabe, her new man.”
The band members looked at each other with wide eyes.
“We don’t have to talk about that,” Bridget said.
“I can talk about it. I don’t know if I’ll ever love anyone as much as Cam again, but I can talk about it. Love is a good thing.”
“Maybe, but you’re the only Irish person I know who doesn’t drink alcohol to help you get through a rough time,” Tonya said.
We chuckled. It was the first time I laughed since Cam died, and it felt good.
After they finished their beers and we had pizza, they gathered up the trash to take it out on their way downstairs. “You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“No biggie,” Dan said, putting the trash outside my door.
“We’ll tell her later,” Tonya whispered to Bridget, barely loud enough for me to hear. They both looked my way and laughed.
“Tell me what?” I asked.
“What?” Tonya asked.
“You said ‘tell her later’ and looked at me.”
“No, she didn’t say that. You must have misheard,” Bridget said.
Why did Bridget lie to me?