by Harper Bliss
Peeved, Eileen had to marvel at how her mom had seamlessly worked this into the conversation this evening in record time.
“Where’s Maggie? I’m ready for the next course.” Her father patted his belly, eyeing the door.
Never too far away, Maggie appeared. She quietly cleared the salad plates and returned with the main course.
“Another favorite of yours, Eileen,” her mom said. “Garlic parmesan chicken with brussels sprouts.”
Julia’s thinning lips indicated to Eileen her sister had requested the meal.
Unlike the other plates, Maggie had cut Eileen’s chicken breast into bite-size pieces, much to Eileen’s relief. Julia nodded her appreciation, leading Eileen again to believe her sister had made a great effort to arrange everything this evening for Eileen’s homecoming. The wine kerfuffle had probably ruffled Julia’s mother-hen ways.
“And in case anyone wants more brussels sprouts, there are more in this dish.” Maggie placed it at Julia’s side.
After Maggie had left via the service door, her mom asked, “What are your plans while you’re home, Eileen?”
“Can you pass the brussels sprouts?” Her father asked.
Julia handed the dish to Eileen, her face paling when she realized her mistake at the last second.
Eileen had reached across her chest to grasp the dish with her left hand, but juggled it when Julia released her hand, spilling three sprouts, one rolling to the center of the table, leaving a grease stained path.
“Look at what you’ve done to my tablecloth. You’ve ruined it!” Her mom’s lips drew back into a snarl.
“I’m sure Maggie can get the grease out.” Her father dabbed the mark with his blood-red linen napkin.
“Stop that, Bruce! You’ll make it worse.” Turning her attention to Eileen, she said, “You did that on purpose.”
“W—what?” Eileen spluttered.
“It was my fault, mom. I let go of the dish too soon.” Julia plucked the sprouts from the tablecloth, putting them onto her own plate. “I’ll have it professionally cleaned.”
“Stop covering for Eileen. She’s had it in for me since the day she was born.”
“Jesus, Mom! You know Eileen isn’t home on vacation. She had a stroke and can’t use her right arm and you want her to crochet and berate her for fumbling a dish!” Julia’s chest heaved up and down indignant at her mother’s words.
Eileen, tight-lipped, looked over to her dad, then to Julia, and finally rested her gaze on her mom. Fighting back tears, she rose from the table, her napkin slipping onto the floor, and walked out of the dining room toward the exit.
Chapter Two
Naomi held the hospital door open for Kelly, then closed it behind them. The cold November air whipped her in the face. Naomi reveled in its iciness. She was used to it. Whereas most people loathed the heavy gray clouds hanging in the air this time of year, she loved them, because it meant that the holidays were soon approaching.
She grabbed her friend’s arm. “Let’s do something special for the kids this Thanksgiving. For just one day, let’s try to make them forget where they are and why they’re in hospital.”
“There’s time,” Kelly said.
“Not that much,” Naomi insisted.
Kelly stopped in her tracks. “You do know you say the exact same thing every year.” She grinned at Naomi.
“Because I want it to be special for them every year,” Naomi replied.
“Are you sure that this year in particular you’re not overcompensating?” Kelly turned toward her.
“Oh, please.” Naomi rolled her eyes.
“I just want you to know that I’m here for you if you want to talk. Whenever you need to. Okay?” Kelly put a hand on Naomi’s upper arm.
“How many times do I need to repeat myself?” Naomi said. “I’m fine.”
“Jane cheated on you.” Kelly squeezed Naomi’s arm now. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fine when you’re with me.”
Naomi shook her head. “How did we go from Thanksgiving plans to this?” She pretended to shiver and dug her hands deep into her coat pockets.
“I’m just trying to be a good friend.” Kelly’s gaze found Naomi’s.
“I appreciate that, but you bringing it up all the time isn’t really helping. I’m just getting on with my life. Spending time with the kids in there.” She nodded her head in the direction of the hospital. “Trying to replace all the negative vibes of a break-up with some positive ones.”
“Maybe I’m the one who’s still angry at Jane,” Kelly said. “For the way she treated you.” She shook her head. “And I must admit I’m a little baffled at your lack of utter rage.”
“Whereas I wish you’d have started this conversation while we were still inside,” Naomi said, even though it wasn’t the cold bothering her. “Obviously things weren’t meant to be between Jane and me. She wasn’t the one for me. That’s how I’m choosing to look at it.” She took a deep breath. “No one, not even my ex who cheated on me, is going to mess with my holiday cheer.” She shot Kelly a wide grin, hoping to lay this conversation to rest. Not that Naomi had anywhere pressing to be, or anyone waiting for her at home. She just didn’t want to talk about Jane any longer.
“Don’t I know it.” Kelly injected some lightness into her voice. “Naomi Weaver will have an outstanding Thanksgiving and the merriest of Christmases no matter what.”
“Thank you. Now am I allowed to get into my car?”
“Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kelly didn’t move. “And call me if you need anything.”
“Will do.” Naomi gave her friend a quick wave and hurried to her car, a hand-me-down from her brother. Every time she got in and it started from the first turn of the key, she considered it a small miracle.
On the way home, Naomi wondered if she hadn’t been too hard on Kelly who was, after all, only trying to help—even though she could be a bit subtler about it.
It was only a ten-minute drive from the hospital to her apartment and, instead of ruminating more about what Kelly had said, Naomi turned to Spotify, found the song she was looking for and put it on repeat. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” she sang along loudly, tapping the steering wheel with her gloved fingers, all the way home.
Naomi was still humming the Kelly Clarkson tune when she turned the key in the lock of her front door. It snapped open after one turn. Had she forgotten to double lock the door again? It surely wouldn’t be the first time. In fact, most days, Naomi simply let the door fall shut behind her, much to Jane’s chagrin when they were still living together.
“You don’t have to make it easy for burglars to get in,” Jane would repeat endlessly. These days, Naomi could leave her front door unlocked guilt-free, without having to deal with some harsh words from her partner. Because she didn’t have a partner anymore.
When she swung the door open, Naomi noticed she must have left the lights on as well—oh, the things Jane would have to say about that. She quickly closed the door only to find, when she turned around, that Jane was standing right in front of her.
“What the—” Naomi tried to regroup quickly. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you,” Jane said. “I miss you.” She painted a soft smile on her lips.
“You can’t just be here when I come home.” Naomi held out her hand. “I’d like your key, please.”
“Will you sit with me for a minute?” Jane pleaded. “So we can talk?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s over.” Naomi took a step back. She had no intention of sitting as long as her ex was in her apartment.
“Come on, babe,” Jane pleaded. “This doesn’t have to be the end of us.”
“It very much does.” Naomi brought her hands to her hips. “Now, I’d like you to leave and give me your key.”
“I’m so incredibly sorry for what happened,” Jane said. “You must know that. I’ve told you about a million times now.”
“It’s n
ot about how sorry you are.” While it was distressing to find Jane in her home unannounced, Naomi had no trouble at all playing this cool. “In fact, you cheating on me was the best thing that could have happened. For both of us. If anything, it showed us that we’re not right for each other.”
Jane scoffed. “You’re such an annoying glass half-full person.” She inched closer toward Naomi. “I know I hurt you and you have every right to be upset. But we were together for almost three years. Don’t you think because of that alone we deserve another chance?”
“I clearly don’t,” Naomi said coldly.
“I came clean to you. I explained why I did what I did. You know I never meant to hurt you. The whole thing didn’t even have that much to do with you.”
“You didn’t hurt me as much as you made me see that you’re not the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. Something I’m really glad I found out.”
“Christ, Naomi. Can you be any harsher?”
“Can you be any more delusional?” Naomi took a step closer to her ex. “I made it very clear what I wanted from this relationship. I distinctly remember using the words monogamy and marriage. Quite often, actually. And what was your response? Falling into bed with the first woman you came across, and for what? To simply prove that you could?”
“I’m not the marrying kind, Naomi. I never, ever made a secret of that.” Jane shrugged. “What’s marriage, other than a silly piece of paper, anyway?”
“Which is exactly why you and I shouldn’t be together anymore.” Naomi stepped to the side. She spotted Jane’s coat hanging over a chair. She reached for it and handed it to her. “Please, give me the key and find someone else to string along. I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who don’t want to be married. Maybe… what’s her name? Petra, was it? Maybe she’ll be up for that sort of thing.”
“What I don’t understand,” Jane pulled her coat from Naomi’s hands, “is how, when we were together, you could even bring up marrying me when us breaking up doesn’t seem to bother you all that much?”
“That’s easy.” Naomi finally shrugged off her own jacket. She was beginning to sweat in the heat of the apartment. “I’m glad for what it has taught me. I know exactly what I want and, for a minute, I was fooled into thinking I wanted it with you. But now I know you’re not the one for me. You made that very clear.”
“You know Petra meant nothing to me. It was one night. We can’t throw away three years because of one night. We’d be so foolish to do so.”
“I see things very differently.” Naomi tossed her coat onto an antique armchair. “From my point of view, it was the best thing that could have happened to us. We weren’t happy anymore. Not like we used to be.” Naomi scanned Jane’s deflated face. She was starting to feel sorry for her. “We were just going through the motions. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have cheated. People in happy, fulfilled relationships don’t do things like that behind each other’s back, Jane. I think we both know that.”
“I disagree.” Jane’s bottom lip started trembling.
“We’ve been over this so many times now. You can’t keep rehashing what happened. As I said, and as we both know very well, it’s over.” It was hard to get the next words past the growing lump in her throat. “You need to understand that. We’re not getting back together. Not only because of what you did, but because we don’t belong together. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can move on.” Naomi scooted closer to Jane again. They’d only broken up a few weeks ago. Jane admitting to sleeping with someone else hadn’t instantly dissolved all the feelings Naomi had for her. She fought the urge to take her ex into her arms and tell her everything would be all right—because, for them, it never would be.
“We can still be friends, though?” Jane mumbled.
“Of course we can.” Naomi tried to find Jane’s gaze, but it kept skittering away.
“And you’ll come to my photo exhibition?”
Naomi did put a hand on Jane’s arm now. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Jane dug her hand into her jeans pocket. “Here’s the key. You won’t find me in your place unannounced anymore.”
“Thank you.” Naomi took the key from Jane and held her hand for a few seconds, just one last time.
“I am sorry,” Jane said.
“I know.” Naomi watched as Jane fumbled with her coat.
“I’m going now.” Jane finally looked her in the eye. It felt like a kind of very last resort. One last glance to see if all possibilities were truly exhausted.
“Bye,” Naomi said. She let Jane walk out on her own, then stood watching the door for a while after Jane had left. Break-ups were always painful because of the shared history and all the memories of better days resurfacing at the most inconvenient times. Yet a wave of relief washed over Naomi after Jane had closed the door of the apartment they used to share behind her, hopefully for the very last time.
In her heart of hearts, Naomi knew it was the best thing for them both.
Chapter Three
Eileen fumbled her iPhone with her left hand while attempting to press her right index finger to unlock the screen. It wasn’t a difficult maneuver by any means, but the name on the screen had rattled her. Wedging the iPhone under her right hand, she navigated her finger to the exact spot, and then hoisted the phone to her ear. “Eileen Makenna.”
Since leaving Derby when she was in her early twenties, she’d only used her first and middle name professionally, preferring the way it rolled off the tongue.
“Ellie Bean!”
Eileen stifled a groan. Her seventy-six-year-old boss had been calling her by that nickname for decades. She was almost fifty, for Christ’s sake. But asking Ray Steffens to desist from using the moniker would be tantamount to career suicide. Besides, he had pet names for everyone, men and women. As far as she knew, no one appreciated them, but they all put up with them.
“Mr. Steffens. To what do I owe this honor?”
He chuckled, “The honor is all mine. How’s my favorite photographer? The shoulder feeling better?”
“Getting stronger every day.” She glanced at her shoulder, her gaze traveling downward to the arm pressed against her, cringing over the blatant lie to the man who’d given her a job before she’d even had a chance to prove herself. While Eileen had told her boss she needed time off, she hadn’t been entirely forthcoming about the true reason, leading the higher-ups to believe it was a rotator cuff injury she’d had surgery on and that it now needed nothing more than TLC.
“Good, good. Any idea of when we can get you back in the field? Not to put any pressure on you, but another Pulitzer would be a boon for the company.” He laughed, although Eileen suspected he wasn’t kidding. Everyone in the company felt the pressure of going above and beyond one hundred and ten percent of the time. “Seriously though, we miss your work.”
“I miss working. More than you know.” She sucked her lips into her mouth, ruing the last sentence.
“I’m sure you do. I still remember when I met you fresh out of college. How eager you were to prove yourself. You’ve never let me or the company down. Please take all the time you need. We don’t want to put you in harm’s way—or more than we usually do considering the assignments you take on. I still remember the time we had to helicopter you and your team out of—which country was it?”
Eileen could picture the white-haired gentleman tapping his chin with the side of his index finger, as he usually did when he’d lost track of a thought or when he inserted a dramatic pause to grab his audience. Eileen suspected he longed for the good old days of yellow journalism. He probably dreamed sledgehammer headlines.
She didn’t want him to focus on the dangers of her job. That would make it even harder for her to fight for it if need be. If her arm refused to cooperate ever again—a thought she kicked to the curb immediately—what would become of her?
Eileen steered the course of the conversation back on track. “I should be back in a month or so. No later than
the first of the year.” Eileen closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer for this to come true. The London doctors had said to be patient. Recovery takes time. But they hadn’t met the likes of Eileen. She’d been in war zones on three different continents. Documenting human barbarities. Capturing with her lens the suffering of the innocent caught up in geo-political tug of wars. When others turned down a dangerous assignment, she’d stepped up. Nothing scared her.
This was simply another arduous assignment that required true grit to persevere.
“Yes, I’ll be back the first day of the new year,” she repeated in a much more confident tone. She almost believed it.
“Glad to hear it. I hope you and your family have a happy Thanksgiving.”
“Thank you, sir. Have a pint at the pub for me.”
“Just for you, Ellie Bean, I’ll have two.”
The phone went silent.
At exactly 12:01, the church bells started to toll, alerting Eileen it was time to walk the fifty yards to the hospital for her appointment. Using her jacket as a cape, since she didn’t have the patience for the struggle of jamming her right arm through the sleeve, she wondered why even after all this time the bells pealed at one minute past noon every single day of the year.
At the reception desk, Eileen did her best to stand tall. “I’m here for a twelve-fifteen appointment.”
The woman smiled and said in a sing-song voice, “Okey dokey. Can I get your name?”
Eileen supplied it.
“Mack will be with you momentarily.”
No, it couldn’t be. Eileen swallowed. “Mack?”
“Yes. Mack Ashwell has been assigned as your physical therapist. Take a seat and he’ll be here in a jiffy.”
Eileen nodded, selecting a seat in the corner, next to an impressive peace lily on a plant stand. She couldn’t help wondering if the plant was someone’s sick joke because the last emotion surging through her at that precise moment was peacefulness. Picking up the latest edition of Time, she leafed through the magazine, her eyes not registering any words or photos within the pages.
