Life's Too Short

by Abby Jimenez

  I wanted to be proud of Dad. And there was nobody in the world that I wanted to feel that way in front of more than Adrian.

  He was so normal and grounded and had all his shit together, and I was like one five-alarm fire after another. Debris in a cyclone of chaos. I knew he liked to hang out with me because I was fun—and I really tried to stay fun in front of him. But the more time he spent with me, the more he saw. And most of what he saw was just sad. To share and celebrate some normality felt like a gift.

  After dinner Adrian stood shoulder to shoulder with me, helping with dishes. Dad and Sonja had cooked, so we cleaned. They were in the living room with Joel and Brent—who didn’t do anything to earn the right to relax, but that was typical.

  Adrian looked over at me. “You should be really proud of what he’s done here,” he said quietly.

  I nodded. “I am.”

  It wasn’t the whole house. My old room was still home to half a dozen bikes that Dad had insisted he keep and sell. And the upstairs hadn’t been touched yet. But the progress was beyond encouraging.

  Sonja had explained to us that the process of cleaning the house was bigger than just getting rid of things. It was helping Dad understand why he felt like he had to acquire them in the first place. Her plan of attack wasn’t just to clean up. It was for him to relearn behaviors and find other ways to cope with the stresses that caused the compulsion to begin with. And one of the core aspects of that was him finding a different job. One that didn’t require him to collect things for a living. She didn’t have to tell me that was a slippery slope, I’d seen it with my own eyes. Dad was looking for accounting work again. He had an interview on Monday.

  I dried a plate and set it on the counter. “You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t recommended Sonja.”

  She had clearly been the catalyst for this life-altering change in Dad. But Adrian was the reason Sonja was here.

  He made me feel like I had a partner. Like I didn’t have to be the one to always figure things out and know what to do—and I always had to be the one to figure things out and know what to do. Even with Grace he’d picked up the load. It was like she belonged to both of us now. We coparented her, and it all just happened so naturally and effortlessly.

  I’d meant what I said yesterday at his office: I had lots of friends. But they didn’t know me like Adrian did. Nobody did. Drake knew the stories I told him. I was always honest with him and we talked about everything. But it was different from living them alongside me like Adrian did. Telling someone about Dad’s house was different from going there with me to rescue him from under an armoire.

  There was something eternally endearing about a person who could see what Adrian had seen and not run or judge you. It made me feel safe and stable. Like I’d been drifting in the wind and I’d found a strong, deep-rooted tree to perch on and take sanctuary in. I felt like I could be any level of fucked up or crazy and he’d still be there, holding me.

  We finished the dishes and headed into the living room. Adrian excused himself and went to the bathroom. The second we were alone, Dad started in on me. “So, how’s it going with the lawyer?” He bounced his bushy eyebrows.

  Of course. It was only a matter of time.

  I shook my head. “We’re just friends, Dad,” I said quietly.

  He barked out a laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “The man is besotted. Look at him,” he whispered.

  Sonja smiled into her coffee cup and Joel nodded.

  “He can’t keep his eyes off you,” Brent whispered. “It’s been like watching a tennis match all night—his head going this way, that way, watching you walk around.”

  I scoffed. “He is not watching me.”

  Dad shook his head. “You’d have to be blind to not see it. Please tell me that I didn’t raise a daughter this obtuse.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, but I didn’t have a chance to reply because Adrian came back down the hall.

  Dad smiled theatrically. “We should probably wrap up tonight’s activities. I’m sure this strapping young gentleman has a romantic evening planned.”

  I rolled my eyes and shared a look with Adrian. He just smiled.

  “We probably should get going. I don’t want to leave Grace longer than we need to,” I said, pulling my vibrating cell phone out of my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was local so I swiped up to answer the call. “Hello?”

  I sat there listening to what I was being told on the other end of the line.

  My heart sank.

  It was a police officer calling from a hospital.

  My sister was in surgery.

  She’d been shot.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE DOCTOR COMES OUT

  AND EVERYONE

  IS STUNNED!

  ADRIAN

  We were in the waiting room at Royaume Northwestern Hospital. It was 10:00 and we’d been here two hours.

  The information had been choppy. Apparently, Annabel had been trespassing, climbing into a window, and the resident of the property shot her. The bullet had gone into her shoulder and the injury wasn’t life-threatening. She was in surgery to close the wound and then Vanessa, Brent, and Gerald could see her.

  Besides the quick info dump that Vanessa had gotten from the officer who called her, no one had been out to talk to us. As far as I knew, no charges had been brought—yet. In addition to the B and E, they’d found Annabel with several bottles of narcotics in her possession. None was in her name. Where she’d gotten them was anyone’s guess, but if she was breaking into this house, she might have broken into others.

  Gerald and Sonja were talking quietly. Brent and Joel were on their phones. Vanessa was curled up next to me, sitting in a chair with her head on my shoulder. I had an arm around her and my jacket draped over her. I had to fight the urge to kiss the top of her head.

  I had to fight the urge to do a lot of things.

  I’d like to say that I’d rather be home in my bed, but if Vanessa wasn’t going to be there with me, I was perfectly happy to sit in this chair and hold her here instead.

  She’d come to me and not her dad.

  She’d retreated into my arms like I was the only safe haven in the world—and I wanted to be that. I realized today that I always wanted to be there to receive her. I wanted every opportunity to be useful to her. I craved it. Waited for it. Watched her to see when she might need me to catch her. See her beautiful eyes search a room and zero in on me, a sign to pluck her from her whirling tornado and keep her still.

  I was glad to see Gerald was getting his shit together. I was glad for Vanessa’s sake. But the thing I realized tonight was that even if he didn’t, there was no amount of crazy that she or her family could throw at me to make me change my mind about her.

  The doors opened and the doctor came out. As soon as she saw him, Vanessa bolted to her feet and the family crowded him.

  The doctor made it brief. “I’m Dr. Rasmussen. She’s in recovery. She’s stable,” he said, his tone flat. “I don’t think we’ll need to keep her more than a day.”

  Vanessa looked relieved. “Can we see her?”

  He looked down at Vanessa like the question irritated him. “No, you cannot. She’s under arrest.”

  Vanessa’s face fell. “What?” she breathed.

  Gerald blanched next to me. “Arrested? On what grounds?”

  The doctor ignored him. “No visitors, and she’ll be released into the Hennepin County jail system,” he said, not even trying to hide his disapproval.

  My jaw flexed. I didn’t like his tone—and I knew exactly why he had it.

  To him, Annabel was a criminal and a drug addict. And neither thing was his damn business. She was Vanessa’s sister and Grace’s mother, and he’d better pray to God his prejudices didn’t translate into poor care because I’d drag his ass through a malpractice suit the likes of which he’d never seen.

  “I’m her attorney,” I said, my vo
ice clipped. “She has a Sixth Amendment right to counsel. I’ll need to speak with her.” I looked at him levelly. “And I sincerely hope when I do, I find she’s receiving nothing but exemplary medical care.”

  I watched his eyes narrow.

  I’d seen it all. Every sort of subtle cruelty subjected on criminal patients. Making them wait on pain meds, using the largest needle possible for blood draws so they hurt more, treating and streeting them—discharging them early and to the patient’s detriment just to get them off their floor. I knew all the shit they pulled.

  And now he knew I knew.

  “Fine,” the doctor said stiffly. “Show your ID at the nurses’ station. Give her another twenty minutes to come out of anesthesia or she won’t be much of a conversationalist,” he added. And then he left.

  Vanessa looked up at me. She was starting to cry.

  I put my hands on her shoulders. “Hey, don’t do that.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “This is my fault. I turned off her phone. She was probably cold and hungry. She went back to her old house to climb into a window because it was negative five outside and she couldn’t even call me for help, and now she’s going to prison with a bullet wound.”

  Brent cleared his throat. “Actually, this is my fault.” He sucked air through his teeth. “She was sorta staying with me and Joel after you said she couldn’t be at Dad’s. I kicked her out this morning after my Tiffany bracelet went missing.”

  Vanessa blinked at him. “She’s been with you this whole time?”

  “She called me after she crashed the car.” He made a face.

  Vanessa’s jaw dropped open. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

  “You know how you get! And anyway, I gave her very firm boundaries and enforced them when she fucked up—and you know what? No.” He crossed his arms. “This isn’t my fault. It’s not your fault or Dad’s fault. She’s a hot fucking mess and that’s on her. Maybe her dumb ass needs to go to prison.”

  “Brent!” Vanessa blanched. “She needs help! Not to be incarcerated!”

  I put my hand up. “And she’ll get help. She’s not going to prison. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Vanessa looked back at me with a sniffle. “How?”

  “The house she was breaking into—you said she lived there once? It was her old house?”

  She nodded.

  “Did they evict her? Or did she just leave?”

  Vanessa shook her head. “I think she just left.”

  “How long ago?”

  She wiped under her eyes. “Three? Maybe four weeks?”

  “Okay. Then she’s still a resident of the property and she had a legal right to be on the premises. She wasn’t trespassing—in fact, I’d venture to say the shooter has more to worry about than she does. She’ll be the one dropping charges.”

  “But what about the pills? She had all those stolen pills on her. Won’t they say she was selling or something? Say she was a dealer?”

  “If anything else sticks, I have a favor I can call in. I’ll get the prosecution to agree on a treatment program in lieu of time. I’ll have her arraigned bedside. She’ll never step foot in a police station, I promise you. She’s in the best place for her right now. She’s safe, and she’s going to get help. I’ll take care of this. You don’t have to worry about it.”

  I saw the stress drain away from her beautiful expression. The relief.

  She trusted me. She believed me when I said I’d make things okay—and I would.

  I was good at my job. But seeing that she knew I was capable of what I said I would do made me prouder of my law degree than any court case I’d ever won, or any article ever written about it. Her opinion of me meant more to me than anything. And her advice did too.

  I’d never in a million years have agreed to Christmas at Mom and Richard’s if it weren’t because Vanessa said I should. I trusted her implicitly. Especially when it came to things that would make me happy. I was beginning to realize that I couldn’t even think outside of my own limited world views to know what those things were.

  I was unmovable. I didn’t like change. I didn’t like to adapt. It was easier to decide to hate something or someone and stick with it, because the other option would be to expose myself to the unknown or open myself up to be hurt. And she was right. Why hate Richard? What was the point? It was making everyone unhappy. Including me. And I don’t think I ever would have landed on this realization if she hadn’t taken me there.

  She peered up at me with wet eyes, and I put a hand on her smooth cheek and brushed a tear off her face with my thumb. “I’ll go speak with Annabel, wrap this up so we can get you home.”

  Gerald looked pleased with himself. “I told you it was nice to have a lawyer in the family—”

  “Dad!” Vanessa glared at him.

  “It’s ridiculous,” he said, going on unfazed. “Trying to lock up an innocent nineteen-year-old girl, shot for climbing into a window in her own house. This government has nothing better to do than mess with tax-paying citizens simply living their lives. I’m going to write the governor a strongly worded letter and tell him where he can shove it.”

  Brent sighed dramatically. “Of course. Great idea. Right up there with cutting your own bangs. Well, I’ll be in the parking lot smoking stray cigarette butts if anyone needs me.” He hoisted his backpack, grabbed Joel by the hand, and left.

  Vanessa looked back at me, exasperated, and I smiled at her.

  I liked Brent. And his flaws and eccentricities aside, Gerald was starting to grow on me too.

  He loved his family. He loved his daughters and he loved Grace, and I found it very hard to dislike him, no matter how off the wall his opinions were—at dinner he had announced that the moon landing was a hoax.

  I gave Vanessa’s arm a squeeze and headed to the nurses’ station.

  This was the second time I’d met Annabel, and even after half an hour of getting her groggy side of the story, I still hadn’t met her. She was coming out of anesthesia and she was drugged up—either by her own hand, or by the hospital. Either way, I think she barely registered the encounter. I was glad Vanessa didn’t get to see her. It would have upset her. Her sister was handcuffed to the bed.

  I spoke with the head nurse and informed her that the patient had a high tolerance to narcotics, which should be taken into account when managing her pain. I also made it very clear that I expected her to be made comfortable and that I would be closely monitoring her care.

  After I was done, I drove Vanessa home. Gerald and Sonja had their own car and left with Joel and Brent when we did. Vanessa looked spent. We got Grace from Yoga Lady and I carried her to Vanessa’s place and came inside on the premise that I’d help put the baby down for the night, but the truth was I didn’t want to leave her.

  I hated the walls between us. The physical ones and ones you couldn’t see.

  I wanted to ask Vanessa to stay the night at my place—which was ridiculous because I didn’t have a guest bedroom. But I wanted to ask her. And I knew if I did, she would. She was always about distraction and fun. She’d probably squeal about sleepovers and accept my invitation and make me paint my nails and do mud masks—and I didn’t even care. I’d do it. I’d put her in my bedroom with Grace and I’d take the couch…

  But it was a bad idea for me.

  This wasn’t a woman I was just friends with—even if she was just friends with me. Everything with Vanessa meant something. And every time she gave me more of herself, I found it difficult to give it back. If I got to wake up tomorrow morning and see her there, every day that I couldn’t would be that much emptier than before.

  That’s why I couldn’t ask her to stay over. It would just make this harder on me, blur lines. Lines that she’d placed there for a reason. Lines she’d made clear she didn’t want moved.

  Vanessa went to the bathroom to get into her pajamas while I changed Grace’s diaper. When she came out, she’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and washed her face. She had on a maroon
Vance Refrigeration shirt and some polka-dot pajama pants, and she smelled like toothpaste and some sort of flowery soap or lotion.

  It felt like I should be getting changed too. Getting ready to go to bed with her. The feeling was so casual and natural I almost had to remind myself that I didn’t live here—even if it felt like I did.

  I wondered what it would be like to be with her in the middle of the night. To sleep next to her, even if we never touched. Waking up with Grace to let Vanessa sleep, hearing Vanessa softly breathing and being able to see her as I opened my eyes, tuck a blanket around her. Know that she and Grace were safe and protected because I would never let anything happen to them…

  Those late hours were forbidden to me. They were as forbidden to me as kissing her. And I wanted them. I wanted the privilege of them.

  I was starting to feel a building desperation. Like I knew in my soul we were supposed to be more than this and I didn’t know how to make her know it too.

  The longing was beginning to feel all consuming. And it was only going to get worse, because every day I spent with her it already did.

  I laid Grace down in her crib and Vanessa came up beside me and sighed quietly. “You know, most people who see a train wreck a mile ahead have the sense to get off the train,” she said tiredly. “Not you. Now you have a Price for a client.”

  “I don’t mind helping,” I said, straightening and turning to her.

  She peered up at me. “I wish there was something I could do to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “I like doing things for you.”

  Her face went a little soft. “Because you’re a fixer. It’s your way of being in control. But you know, not everything can be fixed. You can’t always make everything better, Adrian.”