“Hey Anna, the regular?” Ronny, the sociable biophysics student/waitress with the wildest mane of bouncy curls asks. I nod at her with a smile.
“So—” Jesse thumps the top of the two neatly stacked and stapled piles of paper. “These are the final drafts as confirmed by your lawyer, after incorporating all mutually agreed on adjustments of course.” He produces a pen from his briefcase and offers it to me.
I look at the tilted pen for a silenced beat. “I’ve got my own,” I say in a leveled tone, concealing the tug on my heart. I reach for my bag and take out the pen Liam gave me.
“Good luck pen?” Jesse says with a grin.
“You can say that,” I murmur, not meeting his eyes, and turn to put down my initials and sign every page of the contract while Mrs. Rotfield does the same with the set. A few minutes later, we exchange contracts, trading a kind stare, and carry on.
“Okay,” Mrs. Rotfield says, signing the last page and dropping her pen. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you two now.” She takes my hand in both hers over the table. “I’m delighted the studio will be yours now, Anna. In a sense, it feels like it will stay in the family.”
I smile at her, moved by the sentiment. “Thank you for the opportunity, for waiting for me to come up with the money. I’m well-aware that you could have sold it months ago.” I smile at her. “You taught me so much, and I’m genuinely grateful for everything.”
“Come here, you sweet girl,” she says and stands up. With her arms open wide, she invites me into a motherly hug. “I’m so glad the studio is yours now. I’m sure you’ll do great things with it.”
“Everything okay?” Jesse asks as soon as his grandmother leaves, studying me as I gaze distractedly out the window.
I turn to him. “Sure.” My smile falls short of backing my answer.
He cocks his head, assessing me. “Well, I’m always here to talk, hang out, date you, be your friend, send an Indian food delivery, you name it.”
I nod with a thin smile, tracing my finger over my signature on the contract, thinking about how happy I should be right now, and how great of a guy he is. I send him another glance; he smiles warmly in return. Maybe if we met under different circumstances when I wasn’t so much into someone else . . .
I train my stare on his. “Thanks,” I say, smiling at him warmly, and add, “For everything.”
He gets the bill next and then walks me to the studio; we hug good-bye and I’m left alone. For a silent moment, I look at the key in my hand. I’ve stepped into this studio more times than I could count, but this time feels different. Monumental. I take a step in and walk to stand in the middle of the main room, looking around. A triumphant smile takes over my lips as I inwardly yell, “this place is mine now!”
I glance around, already putting together a list in my head of things I want to do. I don’t have much money left for any major renovations; I’ll start little by little. The first thing I want to do is bring mom over and together come up with a facelift plan. What I know for sure is I want a fresh coat of paint, something I’ll start working on this weekend. It gives me purpose, something special to look forward to. At least I have something to invest all my energy in, something to distract, keep me occupied. Even though I don’t want to give it too much weight, I know that how I feel right now won’t go away any time soon. The undercurrent sadness. Liam made me fall for him and left me with all these feelings, all these feelings trapped inside with no one to share them with.
The thing is, I don’t see Liam’s decision as a rejection. It sure stings like one, but I don’t. He’s a goal-oriented, driven person with a very promising future. He wouldn’t get to where he is now if he weren’t as dedicated to his goal. And, sadly so, he believes he can’t be in a relationship till . . . God knows when. What he doesn’t understand is that I’ll be there for him, to support him rather than impose. I don’t need someone to be with me all the time. I’m a very independent person with my own goals which I’ll have to work hard and continue growing to achieve. Our compatibility is not something one can often find, if at all. I’ve been swimming in the dating pool long enough to know what we have is something most people dream of; friendship, chemistry, attraction, and the deepest connection. But his mind is set and he just won’t listen. Nothing much I can do about it.
It was Bill Gates who once said, life is not fair; get used to it. Taking Bill’s advice, I mentally roll up my sleeves, ready to dive headfirst into this day. Melancholy be damned. My studio, my responsibility, it’s on me to make it fabulous! I thrash out a 10-90 agreement with myself which translates into a 10%-time allowance to lick my wounds as long as the other 90% is dedicated to focusing on my friends, work, and giving both my all.
Today’s lessons fly by and when seven rolls around the corner, I’m ready to call it a day with a quick dinner at Vicky’s and a long soak in a lavender-scented bubble bath. My sister has the most dreamy claw foot bathtub. I lock up the studio and check my phone, noticing a missed call from my sister.
I’m pulling the key out of the lock when Vicky answers. Anxiety registers in her voice when she says my name. “Hey, Vic, what’s wrong?” I ask concerned.
“Hey, listen, I’m . . . I’m taking mom to the hospital.”
I gasp. “What? Where are you?”
Vicky couldn’t sound more worried. “We’re heading to Virginia Mason.”
A shiver of sheer panic engulfs me. “What’s wrong with her? What happened?”
“I came to visit her, and she wasn’t feeling so well,” Vicky says agitatedly.
“What do you mean, Vic, what’s wrong?” Feels like my air pipes are thinning. “Is she . . . conscious?”
“She complained about arm and chest pain in her left side,” Vicky’s voice breaks. “And she was pale and broke out in a cold sweat and claimed her vision was blurry . . . Anna,” Vicky urges. “Please, just meet us there, okay?”
“Of course, of course,” I say through a numbing fear. “I’m getting an Uber right away.”
If you asked who drove me here, how long the drive was, or how many times I checked my phone on the way there I couldn’t answer. The drive to the hospital was a blur of panicked thoughts, the ones that are there but you really can’t make sense of, besides the fact that they scare you. It takes me a couple of moments to orient, figure out where I need to go, once I enter the emergency entrance.
“Anna,” I hear my sister’s voice calling as I approach the nurses’ station. I turn around to a blanched version of Vicky. I take her hand in mine. Vicky squeezes my hand in return. “We got here about ten minutes ago, they took her to—” Having a hard time expressing herself she gestures with her hand to the double, closed doors with the little round windows behind us. “They’re checking her now. She was . . . I don’t know. She didn’t look well, Anna.”
“Do we know anything?” I ask, worrying my lips.
Vicky shakes her head. “They’re checking her— I guess they will let us know soon.” And then my usually composed and under control sister breaks. I wrap my arms around her. “I’m no expert but all these symptoms—” her voice slightly shivers, muffled a little by my shoulder. “It sounds like a heart attack. And she wouldn’t let me call an ambulance. I just hope I did the right thing.”
I hug my sister tight, utterly terrified; fighting myself to brush away worst-case scenario looming thoughts. We break apart after a while, standing in silence, each with her own frightening thoughts.
“Anna?” Hearing his voice releases the emotions I managed to trap inside so far, and a rebel, solitary tear escapes my eye. I turn to Liam who’s walking toward us in scrubs and a white coat.
Everything about this version of him deems authority, possession of utter control, and respect. From the cadence of confidence in his gait to the gravity of his attention as he listens to the person walking beside him with his head slightly cocked, to the furrow between his brows above astute blue eyes as he studies me. The only thing that dares to renegade from the
sheer control are the hems of his white coat, flapping by his sides, but even they march to the rhythm of his stride. He says something to the person next to him, nods, and stops next to us. “Anna, what’s going on?” he asks, cocking his head, concern emitting from his severe expression.
I wipe my cheek and sniffle. “My mom is in there.” I point to where Vicky indicated a moment ago.
He nods, asking me for her full name and the reason we brought her in. He nods again, sending his hand to my cheek. Lightly holding it, he says, “Wait here, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Not long after he disappears behind the intimidating, hefty, doors.
I’m on my second tea and Vicky is nursing a coffee, both of us on edge. We hardly exchange any words, waiting anxiously for some news. “I’m going to walk around a little,” I say, standing up. “I can’t sit right now.”
Vicky nods in understanding.
I walk over to the large window and look outside, not really taking in the view. I just stare blankly, trying to catch up with the whirlwind of fears in my head.
I think about the last twenty-four hours; it feels like one minute I was standing on the shore looking at a perfect sunset and all of a sudden the tide comes in and my feet are stuck and there’s nothing I can do. I need someone to lean on because I can’t take much more. I stand there confused, gnawing my shivering lips just before being wrapped in a warm, sturdy embrace.
I don’t need to look back to know who’s holding me. I melt into him. He presses his mouth to the center of my hair and keeps it there. Silently giving me the strength I need not to fall apart. For some long, comforting moments Liam just holds me. “She’ll be okay,” he whispers next to my ear. I swallow a cry of relief. Still holding me, supporting me, Liam says in a leveled tone, “We ran some tests, EKG, chest X-ray, blood work. Medically, she’s fine.” He then adds, “She had a panic attack. We gave her something to help her relax.”
I turn around to look at him, a little relieved yet very confused. “Panic attack?”
He nods. “So it seems.” His brows pull in. “Has she experience anything like that before?”
I shake my head. “Not that I’m aware of.” Suddenly I remember that Vicky is here, and we need to let her know that mom is okay. “My sister,” I say.
“I saw her on the way and updated her,” Liam assures me.
“What do we do now? Can I see her –my mom?”
“She needs to talk to someone, her GP, a therapist. Obviously, find out the root cause of her distress.” His stare doesn’t leave mine, as though making sure I’m alright. “You can see her. I think your sister is with her now.”
“Thanks,” I say, not entirely sure what else to say, given how things were left between us the last time we were together.
“Room 205,” he says next. “I’ll be here all night. If you need anything ask the nurses to page me.” He then hugs me again, a hug that brings tightness in my throat.
When we break apart, I take a deep breath and walk away.
If possible, Vicky looks even tenser when I enter the room. My mom, on the other hand, looks sedated, her eyes land on me somewhat out of focus. Her lips soften into a woozy smile.
I lean down to where she lies on the bed and kiss her on the forehead. “You gave us a good scare tonight.”
“I’m sorry, Bean.” She sounds exhausted.
I shake my head and rest my hand on hers. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better, sweetheart,” she says a little slurred.
I sneak a peek at Vicky, finding her deep in thought, nothing but unsettled. She catches my eyes and frowns. Unspoken, Vicky tells me that we need to talk.
“Mom,” I chance a smile. “What happened tonight? What made you so stressed?”
Mom darts a warning glance at Vicky and turns to me, her tender smile intact. “Nothing you should worry about, I’m okay now.” She pats my hand and her eyes flutter. She yawns and it’s clear she’s struggling to stay awake.
I lean in again to press another kiss to her forehead. “Try to get some rest.” Not long after, she gives in and shuts her eyes.
As soon as mom falls asleep, Vicky tips her head at the door, signaling me to follow.
Behind the closed door, I ask, “What is it?” She obviously knows something.
Vicky closes her eyes and rubs her forefinger between her brows. She inhales deeply, slightly shaking her head. “From what I understand she made some bad investments and lost quite a lot of her savings and then some.” Leaning on the wall, she trains her eyes on me. “She had to take a second mortgage on the apartment. There are some debts that should be cleared . . . immediately.” Cursing under her breath, Vicky adds, “Terrible timing. Terrible! I just paid for my own place; I don’t have any extras to help with this.”
When Vicky tells me the sum, my eyes rip open. “Wow, how did she manage to—” I take a much-needed breath, my stomach twists as I say, “I have the money. I’ll just . . . there will be other studios.”
Vicky’s eyes are sharp on mine. She shakes her head. “Not happening. This is your future, and something you’ve wanted for such a long time.”
“Dad?” I say and we both dismiss it in unison. It’s not that my father wouldn’t help if needed, it’s just I don’t believe he has the means to help. My parents aren’t friends nor enemies, they just aren’t. My dad moved back to Denmark when I was ten. There are birthday phone calls and the occasional visit, but otherwise, he’s not really a part of our lives.
“I don’t see any other solution,” I say. “We both can’t take any more loans; the studio money is the only solution.”
“We’ll see about that,” Vicky says and adds, “Don’t do anything just yet, let me make some phone calls.”
“Sure,” I say, not optimistic at all.
Vicky walks off with her phone pressed to her ear and I wander back to the waiting area, halting in front of a vending machine. I know it’s the last thing that should be upsetting me right now, but the fact that the machine is packed with unhealthy food and the only thing that should actually be consumed by human beings is hidden in the lowest corner, irritates me to no end. It’s a hospital for God’s sake, the one place where they should offer healthy alternatives. I put some coins in, waiting for the machine to spew the water bottle. I contemplate starting a new movement to promote Make (real) Food Great Again. Some other time maybe, when my life is not in complete shambles. I bring the bottle to my lips and take a healthy gulp. I screw the cap on and when I raise my eyes, they land on Liam.
He scratches the hem of his brow with his thumb. “Did you talk to your mom?”
I nod a couple of times, then shake my head still baffled by the turn of events. “To make a long story short, she made some very bad investments and apparently owes quite a hefty amount of money which she can’t pay back.” I smile bitterly. “I’m going to help her cover her debts, and well, put the studio thing on hold till—” I shrug. “I don’t know when.”
“How much are we talking about?” Liam whistles as I tell him the sum. His expression sobers as if he just came up with the perfect solution. “I can help you, pay me back whenever you’re able to.”
I look at him with utter dismay. Didn’t you kick me out of your life less than 24 hours ago? sits on the tip of my tongue. I shake my head instead. “No, I can’t. We’ll sort it out.” Then my manners seem to return. “Thank you, though. That’s a truly kind offer.”
He sends his hand to my shoulder. “Anna, I have the money, I don’t need it right now, even after the down payment for the house. I don’t want you to lose the studio.”
I jerk back in surprise. “You bought the house?”
He nods.
“Which one?” My eyes search his.
“The one we both liked,” he says. I wish I could decipher the look in his eyes while saying that. I thought I could read this guy clearly, but it seems like I got it all wrong. “Back to the studio. Anna, I don’t want you to lose it. It’s just money, you’ll pa
y me back.”
I look at him. Really look at him, trying to figure him out once more. Last night comes back with a vengeance, prompting me to say what’s on my mind but in a subtle way, if you will. “You know how it is. We don’t always get what we want when we want it even if it’s the perfect match. I guess I’ll just find another studio when I can afford it. Even though I know in my heart that this one should be mine.” I hold his stare. “Thank you, but I’m not taking your money.”
I bite on my lip and hurt takes hold of me for the next few moments. I narrow my eyes with every intention to hurt him back a little. “I don’t want it. I don’t want to owe you. I don’t want this to connect us. You wanted time apart. I don’t believe this is within the not-being-in- touch realm.”
The thing is, sometimes you should allow yourself to say mean things just because they make you feel a little better even if you realize a moment later that you shouldn’t have said them.
He drops his head. Clever guy, letting me lay into him with no response. Letting me vent. The message, I believe, gets across. Loud and clear. After a moment when we’re both quiet, he lifts his eyes to mine. “The offer stands if you change your mind.”
I take a step forward and hug him, feeling a little sorry for my outburst. He wraps his arms around me. “Thanks for everything,” I say to his distinctively beating heart. “Safe travels, please take care.” Slowly, I lean out of our embrace and look up at him.
Silently, he looks at me for a stretched moment. He then sends his hands to frame my face and kisses me with enough sentiment and tenderness to resuscitate my bleeding heart. He draws back a few beats later, saying, “Bye, Anna.”
I turn and walk away.
He doesn’t call for me to tell me he made the hugest mistake of his life and that he wants us to be together like in the best tradition of romantic films. He doesn’t say a word. Real-life sucks.
I know he’s watching me as I walk back to my mom’s room, but I don’t look back. I don’t want him to see my watery eyes and the pain they carry. As I take a collecting breath, I hear my inner navigation system declare, “recalculating route.” It seems like the road I thought I was on merely one sleep ago is now under construction. No Liam. No studio. Mom in trouble. Recalculating route.
By Mistake Page 18
