LANA
I don’t consider myself to be snobby or stuck up in the slightest, but I can’t help feeling somewhat let down as I unlock the door to our new apartment, courtesy of my new client, Mrs. Maureen Heston. It’s clean and mostly well-equipped already, but it’s not nearly as big as the suite in the penthouse, and although I don’t want to admit it, it feels lonely here.
“I bet you’re excited to have your own room again,” I nudge Olivia, seeing the way she’s eyeing the place suspiciously. “No more having to share a room with your mom, right? Oh! And you’ll be closer to the library and school here. You can walk to the library, even.”
She plops her backpack down on the off-white couch. “It’s small, though. And I miss Joseph and Michael. And Rita, too.”
I think about how Rita’s eyes teared up before she left this morning after I’d already told her about us leaving. “I know, baby, and we’re still friends with them, but you know this is the way it has to be, right? They were my bosses, and now that Joseph’s better, my job is done and I need to work for someone else.”
She sinks into the couch, her arms folded. Clearly, she’s in rare form. “This is dumb. We were happy living with them. They let us use their car, and use the pool and stuff. And Michael was going to take us to Disneyland, and Joseph helps me with my hard math stuff. It’s not fair,” she says, deciding to jump up instead. “They would’ve been good dads,” she mumbles, slinging her backpack over her shoulder before saying something about going to unpack.
As the door quietly shuts to her room, my mouth is still hanging open. Just how much had Olivia picked up on, exactly? A tide of guilt breaks over me. Getting involved with Michael and Joseph the way I did… what was I thinking?
--
“Nomie’s here, Mom!” Olivia calls out, peeking through the blinds.
“Okay, okay,” I say, rushing to grab my cup of coffee. “Don’t forget to get your—”
Olivia holds up her lunch-bag. “Already got it.”
I give her a faint smile as someone, presumably Nomie, knocks on the door. “You know what? You forgot to brush your teeth, so why don’t you hop to it?”
I yank open the door in a rush, Nomie’s eyes wide as she takes in the frazzled look on my face. “Everything okay?”
I move aside, and can’t help but to laugh, even though there’s really nothing funny going on. “There’s just… a lot going on.”
She frowns. “You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping too good.”
I brush her off, not really wanting to get into it with her, much less right as Olivia and Katie are due at school. “It’s just some post-client malaise sort of thing. I’m actually getting ready to meet my new patient today, so everything will go back to normal soon enough. I’ll feel better in no time.”
With a wish of good luck, Nomie waves at me as I give Olivia a kiss on the forehead. “Have a good day, baby.”
I barely have much time to finish my cup of coffee before I have to leave, too. It’s a quick walk, only a few blocks to get to Mrs. Heston’s lovely townhouse, the shutters on either side of the windows freshly painted red. From what I know about her, she’s living on her own for the most part, but at eighty-eight, she needs more help than just her staff waiting on her.
I smooth over my scrubs and fix my hair back behind my ear, taking in a deep breath and ringing the doorbell. Almost immediately, the door is pulled open, and a middle-aged woman smiles politely at me. “Miss Romero?”
I’m led up to the second floor, where Mrs. Heston obviously, judging by the poof of short curly hair, is sitting at a parlor table, eyeing me curiously.
“Mrs. Heston, I’m Lana, we spoke over the phone?” I say, extending my hand to carefully shake hers.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear,” she replies, her voice wheezing. She looks like one of those women who astound you with their competence, despite their age and frailty. “Please leave us, Diane.”
The woman nods and bows out of the room, shutting the parlor door behind her, leaving us to it.
After getting to know Mrs. Heston, I’m glad I decided to take up the job, even if it means having to move on from the Wrights. Feeling somewhat better about the situation—at least working with Mrs. Heston will be a lot easier without all that sexual tension going on, anyway—I fumble for my keys to the front door of my new apartment. Behind me, I hear apartment A’s door open up, and I tense, waiting for them to pass by.
“Hi there,” a gravelly voice says to me.
I turn, silently wishing I could just go collapse on the couch instead of having to make nice with a new neighbor, but I smile at him anyway. “Hello.”
The older man adjusts his glasses before giving me a little wave. “I’m Rick Sutterfield. My wife and I live here. We caught a glimpse of you and your daughter here this morning, and I thought I’d introduce myself. Margie is taking a nap at the moment but I’m sure she’d love to meet you, too.”
“I’m Lana, and that was my daughter, Olivia, you saw me with earlier. It’s nice to meet you, Rick.”
He nods. “Listen, Miss Lana, I wanted to let you know there was some fella over here a little while ago, banging on your door. He didn’t sound too happy with all the yelling and carryin’ on he was doing. By the time I made it out here to see what all the fuss was about, he was gone. I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”
“I don’t know who would…” my stomach sinks like a stone in a river. “Oh.”
He shuffles toward me, patting my shoulder with concern in his face. “I don’t want to put my nose where it doesn’t belong now, but if you ever need anything, just remember I’m right next door. And I may be an old coot, but I’m retired from the National Guard after twenty-eight years, and I keep a side-arm on me at all times,” he says, nodding again.
I paste on the most pitiful excuse for a smile and thank him before unlocking the door, slumping against it as I shut it. Javier. Javier knows where I live now.
My phone slips out of my pocket and falls to the floor. I eye it for a moment and pick it up, my fingers hovering over the screen. All it would take is one little phone call to Michael, but no. Deep down, I know I have no choice but to deal with Javier on my own. I can’t keep running from him and expect him to be none the wiser.
I straighten myself up, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was even holding, and place the phone on the dining room table. The edge of the check from Michael and Joseph is poking out underneath the mail I grabbed, still uncashed. Grabbing the nearest book, I slip it between the pages to keep myself from its temptation.
I need to be able to stand on my own two feet because I know how hard it is to pick yourself up when someone lets you down.