by ReGi McClain
An unfamiliar male voice spoke in slurred tones. “I’ma g’home.”
“See?” Josh’s voice returned. “No problems here. Hang on.” To someone else he said, “I’m taking a break. Harsha’s on the phone. You got it for a few? Thanks.” A voice she recognized replied before Josh told her, “Chase says hi.”
“Tell him I say hi back.”
“I will. So, what’s up? You find out who’s responsible for what happened in L.A.?”
“Yes, but that’s not what I’m calling about.”
“You’re not going to tell me? Are you afraid I’ll kill them? ’Cuz you’re right.”
It occurred to Harsha, if the merfolk hunt resulted in a cure, she needed to develop friendships with men who possessed neither the ability nor desire to kill. Some nice, scrawny pacifists, perhaps. Between Josh and Zeeb, she detected a disturbing pattern.
“I’m not calling about Los Angeles. You know how I said the quadriplex is yours after I’m gone?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I need to ask a big favor.”
“Why do I get the idea I’m not going to like this?” The background noise changed from the ching-ching , drunken laughter, and cursing of the casino floor to the cavernous echo of the service stairs.
“You still get the quadriplex, but not as soon as I anticipated.”
“You found a treatment? Why do you sound all nervous then? That’s great news.”
“No. I’m still looking, but…”
Harsha heard a thud and pictured Josh hitting the wall with the side of his fist. “How long?”
“A couple months. Give or take.”
Josh let loose a stream of curse words.
“There’s more.”
“It gets worse than you being dead?”
Harsha took a deep breath and hurried to get her words out before she used it all, lest a pause give her time to overthink her circumstances and start crying. “A drunk driver killed Jason and Elaine and child services put Kel in foster care, but while I was dealing with a problem I found this teenage girl who needed a home and I kind of adopted her, so now I have a kid and I want you to send the money to her.” She gasped for air.
“Jason… you… what? Who’s gonna take care of the kid? Who’s gonna take care of you ?”
“I’m only watching her for a little while. In a few weeks, she’ll go live with friends of mine. You remember me telling you about the tour guides in Alaska?”
“Dude with the dog collar and chick with the red hair?”
“Yes. It’s them. Well, technically it’s him.”
He drawled, “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. Is that a problem?”
“No. I think it’s great you found yourself a man. Never figured you for the dreadlocks and dog collar type.”
“I did not find myself a man.”
“No? What’s the matter, baby?” His deep voice dropped even lower, into quiet, seductive tones. “Too busy missing me?”
“There’s nothing there.”
“Your breathing gets faster when you talk about him.”
Harsha slumped with her back to a wall. “Fine. I like him, okay? A lot. But it’s not happening. I’m out of time. Anyway, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind sending the quad profits to him for the next ten years, so he doesn’t need to worry about money until Maura’s grown. After that, it’s all yours.”
“I can do that.”
“Thanks, Josh.”
“You didn’t answer my other question.”
“What?”
“Who’s gonna take care of you? The same guy?”
“No. I don’t think he could even if I wanted him to, not with the kind of business he’s in. His mother offered, but I turned her down.”
“The mother of the guy you’re crazy about offers to take care of you while you’re dying and you turn her down ? I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
“You’re one to talk.” She dropped the pitch of her voice to mimic his. “Oh, no. I don’t need a doctor, Harsha. Never mind Malcolm stabbed me in the shoulder, knocked out two of my teeth, and sprained my wrist. I’ll just walk to my nonexistent home.”
“You saying you regret that night?”
“No.” Time to change the subject . “I wanted to ask you before I told him. There’s a possibility he won’t agree because, you know, Vegas.”
“I get it.”
“I’ll call back after I talk to him.”
“I’ll take care of you.”
“What?”
“I’ll take care of you. I’ll move in and make sure you’re not alone when it happens.”
“But Jefe ”
“Will understand. He’ll let me leave for you.”
For several heartbeats, she entertained the idea of Josh caring for her. He’d make her last days interesting for sure, and he knew how to make her laugh, but squeezing the big bouncer into the role of caregiver, while not impossible, brought to mind the image of a woman riding a saddled tiger. It seemed cruel to bend such a magnificent creature to the will of another, and the idea of him seeing her as sick as she knew she’d become…
“I’ve made my choice.”
“Keep it in mind, okay?” Someone in the background called his name. “Be there in a minute. Hey, listen, Harsha, all those might-have-beens…”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Good. Okay. Keep my offer in mind. Catch you next lifetime. Gotta go. On my way! Hey, you in the red shirt!”
Josh’s end of the line went dead. Harsha stared at the call ended signal blinking on her phone. The words flashed on the screen like a portent of her fate. With a heartsick sigh, she set her phone on the kitchen counter and left it there for the night, loathe to keep the reminder of her mortality near her while she slept.
For a time, life settled into a quiet routine. Harsha registered Maura as homeschooled and cut her hours to four half-days while she finished training Jamala. Maura came along with her to the office to help with little odd jobs like dusting or running on-site errands. After work, they visited local attractions or did simple chores, and in the evenings, they practiced Maura’s reading. Fridays, Harsha video-conferenced with Dr. Brown, Ralph, and Ylva, brainstorming ways to bolster her waning health. On Sunday afternoons, they went out to lunch with Kel.
Harsha grew more fragile despite her faithful adherence to the course of treatment recommended by her doctors. She had to hire a housekeeper to take care of the more physical household chores and paid the oldest Campbell boy to take care of her yards. Bruises dotted her forearms and shins constantly and appeared on parts of her she didn’t remember bumping. She wore makeup every time she went anywhere other than work to avoid concerned stares and brought along her walker, just in case, anytime she took Maura for an outing.
For Maura, though, the steady rhythm and Harsha’s practice of demand feeding seemed to work wonders. She put on weight, the purple bags under her eyes disappeared, and her skin, still pale as cream, took on a healthy, pinkish-gold undertone. As trust grew, Maura started calling for Harsha when nightmares woke her. At first, Harsha felt like she’d never get a good night’s sleep again, but the nightmares lessened in frequency and an enormous stuffed dragon helped Maura cope on her own. With adequate rest, food, and security in place, Maura made up for lost time in learning new skills and Harsha managed to convince the girl to shower every couple of days.
Each evening, Maura called Zeeb to wish him good night. Harsha made excuses for not talking to him. Shared teenager or not, she felt a need to distance herself from him. Ralph and Ylva were too professional to mention it during their video chats, save for the occasional, “we all love hearing from you.” Seraph called several times a week to gab about their days, the upcoming quest, or the latest stock market trends. She refrained from mentioning Zeeb, too, but Harsha knew her friend reported to him.
One typical, quiet evening, while Maura looked at a Beatrix Potter book, Harsha sipped a cup of tea as she went through her emails
. She found one from Seraph. Harsha sent an answering email accepting the proposal. Minutes after she hit ‘send’, Seraph texted to say she and Zeeb planned to be there by morning to help with packing.
Forgetting her tea, Harsha rushed to get herself and Maura to bed. She set her own alarm for a half hour before Seraph expected to arrive and tried to sleep. Her limbs quivered with excitement and kept her awake until the alarm rang. With nothing to do after getting dressed, she made herself a cup of tea and mixed ground turkey and spices to make meatballs. When she heard Seraph thud onto her lawn, she ran to greet her friends.
Zeeb, laughing, slid off Seraph and folded Harsha in a hug before she could take two steps out her door. “I still think this is a crazy idea, but I hope it works.”
Seraph misted and joined the hug. “So, what do you think?”
Harsha beamed at Seraph. “I think it’s perfect.”
Seraph grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Everything’s set. Our inquisitive pet scientist is so eager to be underway, he practically burst my eardrum when I told him his project is a go.”
“I can hardly wait, myself. These next two weeks are going to be agony.” She waved them inside. “Thanks for coming to help. I set up Jason’s room for you, Zeeb; and Seraph, you can sleep in Maura’s or my room. I’ll take the sofa while you’re here.”
“I’ll take the sofa,” Zeeb corrected. “Seraph can take Jason’s room. Have you been up all night?”
Harsha gave him a lopsided smile. “Yes, but I’m not tired. I’m too excited. Besides, I need to go to work in a few hours. I’m going to stay up and finish these meatballs, I think. I don’t mind if you guys want to go to bed. I imagine you’re exhausted after your flight.”
“Invigorated, actually.” Seraph took a seat at the dining table. “Can I have my meatballs raw?
Harsha shuddered. “No, but you can have coffee or tea with them.”
“I’d like coffee,” Seraph answered.
Harsha turned on the coffee maker and started tea for herself before plunging her hands into the raw meat to mix in the eggs. Through a convoluted trail of logic involving ground meat and one of Jason’s movies, Josh came to mind. “By the way, Zeeb, is it okay if my property manager in Vegas sends you the money from my quadriplex for a few years?”
Zeeb wrinkled his nose in his adorable confused expression. “Why?”
“To help take care of Maura. I promised him the property after I die, but he agreed to send you the profits for ten years. If you don’t want a connection to my life in Vegas, though, I understand.”
Zeeb shrugged. “Vegas is behind you, right? Except for the property?”
“Mostly. I think. Last time I checked, there weren’t any hits out on me.”
Seraph shook her head. “And you think we’re weird.”
“It’s fine.” Zeeb laced his fingers over his head and bent backwards over the chair until his spine popped. “As long as you know I’m not adopting Maura because you offered me money.”
“I know.” She washed her hands, served the coffee and tea, and fetched her cell phone. “I’ll call him right now.”
“He’s awake?”
She glanced at the time. “It’s likely. He probably just got off work. I’ll put him on speakerphone so you can ask questions if you want.” She set the phone on the counter, set it to speakerphone, and dialed Josh.
“Hey. Jefe was asking about you. What’s up?”
“Hey, Josh.” She scooped out a dollop of squashy meat mixture and rolled it into a ball. “Can you spare a few minutes? We need to talk business.”
A long pause on his end of the phone made her wonder if they lost the connection.
“Josh?”
“You’re out of time, aren’t you?”
Harsha glanced at her friends. They both wore sober expressions and looked engrossed in their mugs of coffee. “Probably.”
Josh sighed. “Yeah. Okay. So, does this guy want the money or not?”
“For the next ten years. After that, the quad is yours, as promised.”
Another pause. “You think about my offer?”
Harsha pressed her lips together and questioned the wisdom of letting Seraph and Zeeb listen in on the conversation. “I appreciate it, but everything’s arranged.”
“Let me visit for a couple weeks, at least. You know, make your last days a little sweeter. We’ll make out on the beach by day and give your neighbors something to complain about at night.”
Harsha dropped the wad of meat she held and started washing her hands. “You’re on speakerphone, Josh.”
“He’s there, isn’t he? Hey, buddy! Get it while you can. What she lacks in experience, she makes up for in enthusiasm.”
Sputtering and coughing noises came from the dining table. Cheeks burning, hands still wet, Harsha snatched the phone, turned off speaker, and pressed it to her ear. “You’re such a jerk.” Without daring to look at her friends, she ran for her room.
“Yeah, but you love me, right?”
She heard the smug smile. It practically reached through the phone to smooch her. She stayed silent until he asked, “You there?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, baby. Who do you love?”
“Not you.”
He chuckled. “You adore me. Send me his email address. I’ll make sure your girl is taken care of. And to make up for embarrassing you, I won’t tell Jefe what’s up. He’d show up at your door next week wearing a gallon of his special cologne.”
Harsha wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. You think so?”
“He considers you a missed opportunity.”
She slumped onto her bed and put her head in her free hand. “You’re forgiven, I guess, but I don’t know how I’m going to live this down.”
“You don’t have time to live anything down,” he reminded her in grim tones. “I want to talk to him.”
“Zeeb? Talk to him after I’m dead.”
“Put him on, or I will tell Jefe. I’ll even buy his ticket.”
“You’re not only a jerk, you’re an extortionist.”
“Put him on.”
Shaking her head at the unfairness of Josh’s tactics, Harsha took the phone to Zeeb. “He wants to talk to you.”
Zeeb furrowed his brow as he accepted the phone. He abandoned the table, went outside, and slid the door closed behind him before he put it up to his ear.
Harsha slipped into a chair and watched him pace as he talked. “I think Josh is trying to kill me with humiliation before I get worse. It’s his way of offering me a mercifully quick death.”
Seraph snorted. “You certainly turned red enough to give the impression of an impending heart attack.”
Harsha groaned, folded her arms on the table, and dropped her head between them. She kept her head down when she heard the porch door slide open and closed and footsteps in the room. It occurred to her she could have disappeared into her room before Zeeb reentered. Chagrined by this lapse of logic, she tightened her arms around her head.
She heard the phone tap onto the table beside her before one of his hands rubbed her back. “He seems like a nice guy.” He sounded sincere.
Harsha gave Zeeb an incredulous look. “Josh? No one calls Josh a nice guy . Narcissistic, licentious, jerk-faced gorilla, maybe, but not nice .”
Zeeb set a fresh cup of tea in front of her and chuckled. The laugh sounded forced.
“As flightless creatures,” Seraph asked, all cheerfulness and innocence, “which do you prefer? Dragon or jet?”
“Dragon,” Zeeb quickly replied. “Overall. But I have to say, it’s nice to be able to snooze if the flight is more than an hour long.”
Harsha looked back and forth between her friends as the conversation progressed, unsure whether to thank them for covering her embarrassment or demand they address the elephant in the room. After a while, she decided to leave it be and went back to making meatballs while she listened.
Chapter 28
Harsha left Zeeb and Seraph still debat
ing, went to work, gave the Vyacheslavs the formal resignation letter she’d prepared ahead of time, put in her half-day, and came home to a house full of smiles, laughter, and excited chatter. Someone mentioned the Hana Highway. Someone else said, “not as bad as the Glenn.” Her sluggish brain, exhausted by the all-nighter and work, attempted to sort it all out. The phrase fried calamari got thrown around several times. That was probably Maura. Three untouched cups of tea sat on the kitchen counter. She wondered who had left those there.
“Or, since you’re obviously tired, how about we take Maura to the movies while you take a nap?”
Nap . She understood nap . “Would you?”
“There’s one I want to see. Besides, it’ll be a nice, long, tiring walk.” Seraph winked.
“Thank you!” Harsha stumbled to her room and into bed. Nap. Nap good.
The coffee she was using in lieu of blood refused to let her sleep for long and she woke up within an hour, feeling disoriented. “Maura?”
No answer came. A trickle of anxiety chilled her neck. She hadn’t lost Maura, too, had she? She wasn’t alone yet. Right? She sat up and stretched out all her senses, hoping to feel the girl’s presence.
The house lay quiet, stagnating like a tomb. With a gasp, Harsha threw off the blanket and rushed from her room. Her circulation unequal to the fast movements, she staggered, and her vision blackened. She caught herself against the wall and stumbled toward her living room by touch. When her vision cleared, she saw Zeeb’s backpack on the floor by her couch and remembered Seraph’s offer to take Maura out for a while.
She lurched to the couch and collapsed onto it. Her heart pounded from the adrenalin rush. Relief at finding herself not alone clashed with the anxiety of knowing that day approached. The opposing forces tore down the wall behind which she had been hiding the anguish and stress of the last several months and loosed torrential mourning. Her whole body shook with heartache, forcing up vomit.
The first wave, made up of every loss she had ever experienced or anticipated experiencing, a tsunami that threatened to drag her into its depths, gave way simply because she lacked the physical strength to feel that much at once for more than a few minutes. Smaller waves replaced it, forcing her to address her grief one loved one at a time.
