Crave

by Tessa Vidal

  My phone rang. Before answering, I knew it was her, had to be, as if I’d summoned Simona by ESP. One glance at the caller ID confirmed it.

  “Hi Simona, how’s it going?”

  “Amber, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

  My heartbeat quickened and a smile spread across my face. Neither of us spoke for a long moment, and then I remembered to focus on work, not her.

  “So, is there anything you need me to do? I’ve kept your schedule clean for the next month except for the restaurant opening since I didn’t know how long you would be in Chicago. Is everyone okay there?”

  “It’s hard, really hard right now to even speak about it, but here goes.” I heard her take a deep breath. Normally firm and precise, her voice shook. “Dad is coming home from the hospital today.”

  “Oh, but that’s good news, right?”

  “No, he’s in the last stages of cancer, so hospice is taking over his care. He’ll be gone in a matter of days.” The timbre of her voice gave away her exhaustion and grief. I didn’t know much about Simona’s family, but I knew this had to be hard.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like me to cancel the restaurant opening for now, maybe just do a soft opening until you are ready for the big party?”

  “No, no. If I can’t make it to the grand opening, it can still go on with you and the other managers in my place.” She inhaled audibly, and then her voice softened. “Amber, thank you so much for being here for me. It, it means a lot. Not just being a great employee, but you’ve turned into a true friend, and…”

  “Well, of course Simona, I’ll do anything you need.” I interrupted without thinking. My mouth went dry, wondering what she was trying to communicate. She wasn’t the type of woman who spoke about her feelings. Neither was I.

  “I need to talk to you about something, but I, well, never mind. When I get back to Raleigh.” She sighed.

  “Simona, you’ve become a good friend too. I’ll do anything you need while you’re away, I mean, I’ll even come there if you need me.” As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I realized I’d probably said too much. Could I sound more desperate?

  “Thanks Amber.” There was a catch in Simona’s voice I’d never heard before. “Seriously, thank you for being you. I need to get going, head back over to Mom’s and see to her and my father. Call me if you need to, or want to. I’ll call you tomorrow evening at the latest.”

  “Bye Simona, just let me know if you need any…” The phone went silent before I could finish the sentence. I lay back on the bed, my heart beating a million miles per hour.

  “You’ve turned into a true friend.” This simple phrase looped through my thoughts on repeat. If only she knew what I was feeling inside went so much deeper.

  I needed to take everything she said at face value. My boss was going through a tremendous amount of pain, and she wasn’t thinking straight. All I could do was be a good employee. Anything else would be way too inappropriate.

  Plus, there was no way she was into you the way you were into her.

  My phone vibrated next to me, and I nearly fell off the bed. I had just hung up with Simona; what did she want now? I picked it up - a text from Christy.

  Have you called Vickie?

  No Should I?

  Yes

  Endless text messages got on my nerves, and I could tell this would go on for a bit. I hit dial and called her.

  “You know I hate talking on the phone, right?” She did, but I hated texting more.

  “Yeah, so what? I hate texting entire conversations. It’s good for a one-off message, but I will not sit here texting you when a phone call is quicker and more efficient.”

  “Fine. So why not give Vickie a call? I’ve been thinking about it and going after Simona might not be such a good thing. I mean, she is your boss.”

  “Who says I need to go after anyone? I’m perfectly fine the way I am.” I crossed my fingers, my only superstition. I sucked at lying.

  “I think you need to do something with somebody. I still can’t believe you’ve only been with one person in your life. You’re thirty years old; that’s not normal.”

  “Fuck off, Christy.”

  I wandered to the kitchen, knowing there wasn’t any food, but opening and shutting cabinet doors, anyway. Damn it, I’d have to raid Simona’s kitchen for a snack before going to the grocery store.

  “You never told me what she did to you. You don’t have to, but you know, if you want to get it off your chest I’ll totally be there for you.” Her voice had that sing-song quality that betrayed her massive need for gossip.

  “You’re so subtle Christy.” I sighed. I rarely thought about that time of my life, much less spoke aloud about it.

  “To make a long story short, my parents threw me out of the house the day I graduated high school for being a lesbian. I packed my things and went to the park, expecting to sleep there until I could figure out how being homeless worked. I met Vickie, who turned out to be a druggie. We hooked up, and when I woke up the next morning she’d stolen money from me and in place of it, left a bus ticket bound for Raleigh. That’s how I ended up here.” I put the phone on speaker and placed it on the counter. Then I sat on a barstool so I could rub my temples. I never had headaches, but I could feel a doozy of one coming on.

  “Wow. That was a shitty thing to do.”

  “Yeah, but to be honest, I’ve got a lot to be grateful for. When Vickie left me that ticket it opened a lot of doors for me. Who knows, maybe I’d still be homeless if she hadn’t?”

  “What the fuck? I would have popped Vickie the first time I saw her again. You act like it was nothing.” The mild pounding behind my eyes intensified.

  “Well, if she hadn’t done it, I never would have met you. No job at Bartholomew’s Books, plus I’d never have met Simona, or gotten the job as her assistant. I’ve thought about it a lot over the years, and random events can have huge consequences. Often they’re out of our control, which begs the question; do you fight change, or welcome it?”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  “Plus, what happened between Vickie and me took place twelve years ago. Both of us are different people now. I’m going to call her, because I’m curious to hear her side of it. For years I thought she was dead. I always imagined her in an alleyway, needles hanging out of her arms. I don’t know much about drugs and stuff, so I always pictured the worst.”

  “Yuck, you’re morbid. Maybe you shouldn’t call her.” I heard a child making a fuss in the background, a signal that the conversation was about to end.

  “I’m calling. If it wasn’t for Vickie and that bus ticket, many things in my life would never have taken place. Who knows, maybe I had a similar impact on her life? Well, I’ll let you go, I hear your kids in the background begging for attention.”

  “Yes, the little boogers need their Mommy. Let me know how it goes with Vickie. She’s got a fascinating story, to say the least.”

  After three aspirins and a nap, the beast in my head was quieted. I sat up in bed, somewhat startled by my unfamiliar surroundings. I grabbed my wallet and found the card had Vickie given me. She’d scrawled a number on the blank side of her business card, with Simona’s corporate logo. My boss was everywhere it seemed.

  I closed my eyes, picturing Simona’s demure smile. It was jarring, because it happened so rarely. Her usual look was either intense concentration, or neutral observation. When a person was lucky enough to be rewarded by an actual ear to ear grin, they weren’t likely to forget it.

  In my mind’s eye, she leaned in for a kiss. I could feel her body on top of me taking possession. Her hands closed around my wrists, holding them against the mattress while her lips moved to my neck. My eyes snapped open and I could feel myself getting wet at the thought of her taut, smooth curves on top of mine.

  “Get over this Amber. She’s your boss.” I said to myself for what seemed to be the thousandth time. I didn’t have to do this
. The facts were, Simona was my boss, and I was her employee. In no way was it appropriate for me to take it further than that, especially when I was now living above her personal gym.

  I stared at the card in my hand, grabbed the phone off the nightstand and punched in Vickie’s number.

  “This is Vickie.” Her voice sounded distant and neutral. She was probably at work.

  “Hi, this is Amber. I called to see if you were still interested in getting together?” I could hear knives and forks clattering in the background, with the occasional yell. She said nothing for a few seconds, and my pulse quickened. Was Vickie going to say anything, or just hang up on me?

  “Amber?” More silence, then she surprised me. “Why didn’t you tell me you work for Simona?”

  Simona

  “I’m talking to HR about taking the next few days off. I want to be here, instead of at work wondering if he’s, you know, still with us.” Uncle Ricardo said. I nodded my head, took a sip of coffee. It had to have been my sixth or seventh cup, and I still couldn’t keep my eyes open.

  “I’ll be here all day, she won’t be alone. If anything happens, I’ll call.” My uncle hugged me, grabbed his lunch off the kitchen counter, and left.

  How did I really feel about my uncle? There was no doubt he loved Mom and Dad, but my old wounds hadn’t healed. I couldn’t help resenting him, the man who drove me away all those years ago. My parents were part of that too. I had to put old grievances to rest, otherwise we’d never know peace.

  Two sets of nurses stopped by this morning. I knew Dad was getting the attention needed for his passing to go smoothly. They were sweet, warm and professional, and I was grateful for the support of the hospice. Someone was always in attendance, making sure Dad was comfortable and that Mom wasn’t overwhelmed.

  I was growing impatient to spend time with him. Finally, I got my chance, and it was just the two of us, a moment I’d craved most of my life. I’d fantasized about this moment, my head filled with things I longed to say, but now my mind was blank.

  The bedroom door was shut. It scared me to be with him, not knowing how I would act. I mean, I knew what I wanted to say, but it was blended into a mad mix of emotions nobody on their deathbed deserved to hear. Maybe I could tell him the good parts, the stuff I felt in my heart from all the years I’d spent in exile. Exile was a strong word, but it was what it felt like. They had banished me from my family.

  Get a grip Simona. I had to keep the bad parts to myself, those thoughts that haunted my dreams and the rare, idle moments when I wasn’t working.

  I knocked softly on the bedroom door. No reply came, so I eased it open, hoping it wouldn’t squeak. The room was luxurious compared to the apartment we’d lived in when I was sent away. Dad was on one side of the king sized bed and Mom’s collection of stuffed animals took up space on the other. Uncle Ricardo told me she’d started her collection soon after I left. It was his belief that they were replacements for me.

  The only bit of medical equipment was an IV drip. I’d asked the nurses about this, who’d said there was no need for anything more since we weren’t trying to keep him alive, just comfortable. His white hair was thinning, and the lines on his face looked deeper today. Gaunt and bruised, he looked nothing like the man I remembered. I leaned against the wall in front of him and wondered if this was the only chance I’d ever have again of telling Dad how I really felt. The need to communicate with him was overwhelming. Years of virtual silence stood between us. Now I had to condense those feelings into a few short sentences.

  “Dad, I wish you hadn’t cut me off the way you did.”

  My father lay there, and I realized I’d been expecting a response. Hell, maybe I should let it all out, both the love and the resentment.

  “I love you, but sending me away only helped you in the long run, not me. I became a success, but only because I had no other choice but to be strong. I had no one from the day Jessica died until now, except for you, Mom and Uncle Ricardo. You cut me off from the only people in my life.” I pushed off from the wall and paced in front of the bed.

  “Why on earth did you set up your own daughter? I mean, I realize money was tight, and you were doing the best you could, but sending me to deliver drugs? That was bullshit Dad.” I pulled up a chair next to the bed.

  “Dad, I would do anything to make you better. I’m all alone, and once you are gone, I’ll be more alone. Even though you weren’t around, at least I had the thought of you here. I’m exhausted and tired of being alone. It feels like solitary confinement, a punishment for, I don’t know, a crime. Maybe that’s what it was after all. I mean, if it wasn’t for me, Jessica would be alive and I’d never have been forced to leave.” I tasted salt on my lips, realizing tears were streaming down my face. I swiped at them with the back of my hand, then felt Dad’s stare. I glanced up and saw his eyes open, with damp trails coursing down his cheeks.

  “Stop.” His thin voice rattled in his chest. I stared into his eyes, and I hated to admit it, but he terrified me. This person, who was supposed to be my father. Shit, this couldn’t really be him. From what I remembered, he was always energetic, running from place to place, and always with a smile on his face.

  “Life, it’s short Simona.” My heart beat faster with every syllable he whispered.

  “Yes, I know Dad.” I picked up his hand and held it. What was my father trying to tell me?

  “Do you hate me?” Dad whispered.

  Oh God, I couldn’t believe he was saying this. I closed my eyes, mustering my willpower to keep me from saying the wrong thing to this dying man. Fuck the anger and bitterness, my father looked so pathetic. There was no way I could ruin what might be our last minutes together.

  “No Dad, I don’t hate you.” The pressure was building behind my eyes, and I was afraid of falling apart. I took a deep breath and stared at the wall behind him.

  “You loved Jessica, didn’t you?” He rasped.

  “Dad, why are you asking? Let’s talk about something else.” I couldn’t understand why he wanted to... then it hit me. He wasn’t talking about her for my sake, he was doing it for reasons of his own.

  “Answer me.”

  “Yes Dad, I loved Jessica very much.” My voice broke, and tears threatened to burst through. I took another deep breath and then snatched a tissue from the nightstand and dabbed at my eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” Dad looked like he wanted to say more, but I didn’t want to press him. He closed his eyes for what seemed like minutes, but was probably only a few seconds. They popped open again, and he struggled to speak.

  “Dad, please, you don’t have to say anything.” I patted his hand, then placed it on the bed and got up from the chair. I knew I should stay seated next to him, but I had to move around.

  “Do you want something to drink Dad? Some juice? Let me go to the kitchen and get you…”

  “Sit.” He whispered. I obeyed him, and then he threw me for a loop.

  “My brother Ricardo says the men who were after you are gone now, that we’re safe. Is he telling me the truth?” His eyes darted back and forth between me, the door, and the windows. Dad knew this. Why was he babbling about... oh yeah, he was sick. Even if I wanted answers, he mentally might not have had it in him to give them.

  “Yes, he is. They’ve been gone for years Dad. They will not get me or you. We’re safe, I promise.” I felt a piece of my heart harden for a moment, that familiar resentment creeping back to life. I knew he couldn’t help it, and I wished I could reassure him we’d be all right, especially now. His hand reached for mine and I took it.

  “You are different now, not a little girl. Are you married, or have a special friend?”

  “No Dad, I’m not married or anything like that. There’s no one in my life, never has been.” I squeezed his hand without thinking and saw him wince in pain.

  “Stop.” He whispered.

  “What do you mean Dad? What do you want me to stop?”

  “I’m dying, and…”
r />   “Dad, please, we don’t have to talk about that.” I interrupted, not wanting to hear him say the words.

  “I’m dying.” His voice strengthened. “You paid for this apartment, this bed and take care of us all, and now I see you with your fancy clothes looking so sad. I raised you, and I know you work yourself hard, real hard. Stop it, it’s not worth it.” Dad pushed at the mattress to raise himself up. I reached behind him and adjusted the pillows until he was comfortable. His deep-set lined eyes locked with mine.

  “What are you going to do with all that money when it’s gone, your whole life gone? Be alone? Rely on people you screwed over, or kept at arm’s length? I hope not because…” He coughed, a deep rattle in his chest making me anxious. After a minute he settled back on to his pillows and closed his eyes. I took a deep breath and spoke.

  “Dad, I’m fine, it’s just, I’ve never met anyone, you know how life is.” Amber’s face lit up my mind as I spoke, and I felt my heart beating faster. Dad glared at me, then closed his eyes.

  “You’re lying. You have a huge heart.” He rasped. “I want you to be happy.” Dad closed his eyes and seconds later was sound asleep.

  The bartender with the magenta hair was off that night. A bland man who did little more than lean against the bar replaced her, watching people come and go. I was grateful, not sure of my ability to talk after spending the day by Dad’s side.

  Nurses showed up late in the afternoon, minutes after Uncle Ricardo arrived home from work. I hated to admit it, but I got the hell out of there as fast as I could. I was glad I was there and wouldn’t have passed up the chance to be with Dad during his final days. But it wasn’t easy.

  I sipped red wine and processed the events of the last few days. Dad’s ability to read my mind always baffled me, especially now after all these years apart. Maybe he was right. I needed to focus on other things besides business and money. But love? Could I allow something so unpredictable to intrude upon my secure and organized world? I’d worked my ass off building a safe space where nobody could interfere with my life. Yes, maybe I’d grown cold and distant from the rest of the human race, but I knew I was safe. I wasn’t in danger of being gunned down, by real bullets or the imaginary ones shot at you by people you’d let into your heart.