Present Day
Cleaning solution
Leather patch
Bandages
Typing on this insipid phone while walking along the root-damaged sidewalks of Abercorn Street proves to be challenging. I don’t normally try to attempt walking while my face is buried in my phone—there are way too many people who do that around here, and it annoys me to no end—but I’ve fallen behind on things I need to order or buy for the shop. I take Padraig’s suggestion from a few days ago and use the notes app on my phone to make a list so I don’t forget everything I need. I’m sure he didn’t mean I should do this while walking, but nevertheless, I am.
Dial soap
Transfer paper
Before I know what’s happening, my phone is jolted from my hand and flies a good three feet in front of me. As I watch it crash to the pavement, I sidestep to keep my balance from the force of whatever just broadsided me. My foot catches on some shrubbery, and I fall backward, landing square on my tailbone. Pain shoots up the length of my spine. I look up to my left just in time to see the object that caused my fall coming toward me again.
A person.
A woman.
Falling . . . on top of me.
My heroic instincts kick in, and I open my arms to grab her as she falls, to attempt to soften her blow, despite the fact that moving those arms causes my back to scream in pain. When the woman lands in my lap, I wrap my arms around her waist and clutch her to me. She lets out an “Oh!” and an “Oomph” as we both settle awkwardly into the bushes.
“Are you okay?” I ask. I loosen my grip on her and help her shift into a seated position. I then adjust myself as well, trying to keep my pain from being visible to her.
Her hair is blocking her face. I reach over to pick out a leaf from it as she brushes her coat off.
“Am I okay?” she says. “I’m the one who tripped over my own feet going down the stairs and then straight into you. Are you okay?”
As I remove the foliage from her honey-colored hair, she reacts to my touch and looks up at me. Only then do I realize who just pummeled me to the ground.
Kerry.
I show her the crunchy yellow leaf. “You had a leaf in your hair,” is all I manage to say.
Not “Hey, Kerry, how are you?” or “Hey, Kerry, great bumping into you.”
“Luca! Oh my God, I am so sorry! Holy shit.”
I place my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s all right. I’m fine. Are you?”
She sweeps her hair behind her ear, her face showing her embarrassment from the blush of her cheeks. I scramble to my feet and extend my hand to help her up. She grabs it and I pull her up. She looks at me, and I can see tears welling in her eyes.
“Hey, are you hurt? Where?” I try to visually assess what damage has been done to her beautiful body.
She looks down at her buttoned coat. She brushes it off again and then brushes her backside. “I’m fine.” She sniffles. “I just . . . I don’t know how this day could get any worse.”
I begin to reach out to lift her chin, when I hear my phone chime in the distance. I look past her shoulder to see it still lying there on the sidewalk. The chime catches her attention as well, and she looks back at my phone on the ground.
“Is that your phone?”
I walk over to pick up the phone, praying it’s not cracked. I have the good protective case. Hopefully, it’s done its job. I survey the damage, and it still seems to be in the same condition as before my crash with Kerry.
“Oh no, is it destroyed?” she asks with worry thick in her voice. “Because that would really make this shitty day perfect. Please tell me it’s okay.”
I hold up my phone to her and show her no damage was done.
“It’s fine.” I smile at her. She sighs and returns a smile as a tear falls down her cheek. I approach her and cup the side of her face with my hand, knowing that touching her may not be appropriate given that this is only the second time I’ve actually talked to her. And let’s not forget about the asinine way I acted in Clay & Soul.
But seeing the distress on her face makes me want to comfort her. Instead of flinching away, she leans her head into my hand and begins to cry. I pull her into me and hug her. She cries on my shoulder for a moment, and I stroke her hair.
“Having a bad day?” I finally whisper.
She pulls back and swipes the back of her hand under each eye. “You have no idea. The heinous bitch I work for is trying to make my life miserable on purpose.”
“Who? Stella?” I ask. Padraig and I are going to have to have a little chat if Stella is being a bitch to Kerry.
“What? No! Oh my God, no! Stella isn’t my boss. Well, I guess she kind of is since I’m her assistant. But no, I’m talking about Rachel. She’s the owner of the company.”
She points up to the brownstone; a placard on the door reads As You Wish Events.
“I hate her. I’d quit, but I don’t want to leave Stella hanging and I kind of need the money.” She shakes her head. “Stella is so much better at handling Rachel’s bullshit. I wish I could just shake it off like she does. Instead, I run out the front door all frantic and trip down the stairs, right into you.”
I chuckle. “First of all, it’s a good thing I was right there, or you might have landed face-first onto the pavement. So, you’re welcome.”
She lets out a breathy laugh and tilts her face up a little. “Well, thank you, I guess.”
She laughs again.
“Second of all, you shouldn’t have to shake off anything. It does not sound like a fun job at all.”
Kerry shakes her head. “That’s just the thing. I love my job. I love working with Stella. She is the best event coordinator. She was born to do it. I just wish we didn’t have to take direction and seek approval from Rachel. She ends up screwing things up more than helping. She acts like she wants us to fail. But I don’t get it. Why would she want us to fail when it’s her business and her reputation on the line?”
Kerry’s voice begins to climb in pitch. She’s rambling and getting spun up. I wrap my arm around her and pull her into a side hug, still aware that I’m making physical contact with a near stranger. Yet, she doesn’t feel like a stranger to me. She feels very comfortable. Familiar.
I look into her eyes. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay? You aren’t hurt?”
She looks down at herself. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m okay. Thanks to you.” She places her head on my shoulder for a moment. She appears in no way uncomfortable with my arm being draped over her shoulders. She seems to welcome it, in fact. I don’t know what to make of this. What to make of her. I have trust issues. Intimacy phobias. At least, that’s what my therapist tells me. The therapist I’m not sure why I still see.
I shake the thoughts of therapy out of my head and refocus on Kerry. “Where were you headed?”
“Bull Street. I have to meet with a printer. There was a mix-up with the trim of some place cards . . .” She trails off and rolls her eyes.
“I have no idea what that means,” I say.
She sighs. “Trust me. You don’t want to know. I swear, people who throw these parties baffle me. If my biggest worry was trim on a place card, I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”
“I don’t have much interaction with people who worry about place cards. Or throw parties. I wouldn’t know. Although, if I take anything from Padraig’s opinion on the matter, those types of people sound awful.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve heard all about Padraig’s opinion.”
A bit of awkward silence falls between us. I think about our first encounter, which ended in a screaming match between Padraig and Stella. I’m positive she’s thinking about it too.
“So, I should get going,” she says abruptly.
“Do you have to meet with the printer right away?”
She hesitates before she answers. “Not right away. They don’t close for a few hours. As long as I take care of it today, everything should be fine.”
I’m not thinking through my actions. I’m acting completely on impulse. I feel a little like I’m in one of those angel-devil scenarios: one side saying, “Stop,” and the other side saying, “Go.” I shouldn’t do what I’m about to do, but I really want to. I don’t know why I’m so worried, though. After Clay & Soul, I’m certain she’ll shoot me down.
“Do you like coffee?” I ask.
“I’d take it intravenously if I could.”
“Ever been to Swirl? Over on State Street?”
“I try to make it by there every Sunday for the brunch special.”
“The Sunday brunch is nice. I’ve done it a few times.”
We begin walking in the direction of Swirl. So, she didn’t shoot me down. I’m relieved. Elated. Nervous as fuck.
“I can’t believe I’ve never seen you there before,” Kerry says.
Her statement reminds me of something my mother told me once after Mallory left me, and before I think—because of my nervousness, I suppose—I say it out loud.
“You can’t see people when your heart is closed for business.”
I look forward as I continue to walk. Why can’t my brain filter properly? In my peripheral vision, I see her glance my way.
“Well, that’s . . . profound,” she says. Her voice is a little unsteady, like she wasn’t sure how to respond.
Great.
“Sorry,” I say, looking over at her with a half-smile.
“It’s something my mom said once. I don’t know why I just thought of that now. Or why the hell I said it out loud.”
“Hmm,” she says. “It makes sense, I guess.”
I don’t respond. I kind of feel like an idiot for not only blurting out my mother’s Confucius-like advice but also for telling Kerry that my mom was the one who said it. I sigh in slight frustration at myself.
Kerry lightly bumps my shoulder. Then she hooks her arms around mine. “So, I was serious when I told you I wanted a tattoo.” She kindly changes the subject, saving a little of my dignity. I like that about her. We walk the few blocks to Swirl and discuss ink possibilities.