by Lexy Timms
“We love you, Hailey. I know it hasn’t seemed like it over the years, but we love you dearly. You’re our daughter, and all we ever wanted was for you to be your best.” “And I have become my best,” I said, smiling. “Opened my own art gallery and everything.” “You did?” my father asked. “I did, and it’s actually doing really well. That’s the next thing on my list, actually, figuring out what to do with it and who to give it over to.” “You know I’ll take it over if you want me to,” Anna said. “Not if you’re going to be doing all that low-cost legal aid work. There’s a lot of it needed in San Diego alone. You’ll be busy,” I said, grinning. “Well, we’ll help you with whatever you need,” my father said. “Just tell us what you want us to do, and we’ll do it,” my mother said. “Right now, all I need from the two of you is to support Anna, so she’s not sucked back into a world she hates,” I said. “I’ve already got ideas running through my head if you want to talk about them later?” my mother asked Anna. “I’d really like that,” Anna said, smiling. The rest of the dinner was spent listening to my family talk amongst themselves. Anna and my mother were going back and forth on ways to arrange her new life, so she could help the most people she could. My father was giving his own input where he could, and even went so far as to suggest that he could travel in a couple days a week to provide low-cost healthcare to those she takes on as clients. I smiled and shook my head, watching my family that had been at odds for years pool their knowledge and resources together to help and reconcile instead of to debase and cut out. But in the back of my mind, I was still worried about Bryan and what I would tell him if anything. Was I making the right decision to break off with him? I worried about whether I should at all. I had no idea what my next move was, and it hurt. It hurt to watch Anna plan her future with my parents while dwelling on the fact that I didn’t have a future anymore.
I realized then that I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Breaking up with Bryan seemed to be the most logical thing to do, but it was in moments like this, when my head hurt and my side was throbbing and my stomach was rolling with nausea, that the only thing I wanted to do was curl up in his arms and cry.
But doing that meant I had to tell him I was dying, and I couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him that after everything else I’d put him through.
Chapter 15
Bryan
I
’d decided, after some serious thinking, to give Ellen a call. The mere
fact that I couldn’t shake the offer from my mind meant I needed more information about it. I took the liberty of calling her and telling her I was interested in more information, and I could tell she was thrilled. She suggested a restaurant on the other side of town that immediately reminded me of my parents, but I agreed to meet with her anyway.
This restaurant was the type of restaurant my parents frequented on a regular basis. The silken cloths that draped along the tables were held in place by lit candles. There was no menu, only the eight courses the chef would be serving that evening. There was a small wine pairing for each course as well as a small glass of ice water to sip from so someone didn’t get too drunk during the evening. But, if drunk was the intention, there was an open bar with a cocktail menu that housed absolutely no prices.
“Bryan,” Elle said, smiling. “So glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said.
She stood and wrapped her arms around me, placing a small kiss on the side of my cheek. Her hands lingered a bit longer around my shoulders than a friendly hug would’ve entailed, and I could tell she was wearing expensive perfume. The pearls around her neck glittered while diamonds dangled from her ears, and the dress she had on suited her body perfectly. It was black and sultry, with a slit up the side that stopped halfway up her thigh.
It looked like she was dressed for a date rather than abusiness meeting. “So,” she said as we sat, “you’ve given more thought to my offer.” “Well, I’ve been turning it around in my head the past few days, and I figured that alone would warrant a bit more information.” “Can’t get me out of your head, can you?” she asked with a sly grin on her face. Oh, she was going to be a doozy to work with. “What exactly does an operations director do?” I asked. “Oh, pish posh. We’ll get to that in a second,” she said. “Let’s at least get you your first glass of wine.” She snapped, and a waiter suddenly appeared at our sides. I drew a deep breath through my nose and snickered while she chatted with the man. This was exactly how my mother would act in a place like this. Like she owned it. Like she had free reign of the people in it. I had no idea why money made people act this way, but if it continued like this the entire night, I’d have to reject her offer. The last person I was going to work alongside was someone who reminded me of my mother. A glass of red wine was set in front of both of us before the first course. It looked delightful as I spread my napkin in my lap, and I could tell Ellen was watching my every move. How I cut my food. How I held my posture up. How I quietly sipped my wine and waited for her to redirect the conversation back to why I was here in the first place. And when she was done eating her fill of me, she smiled. “The operations director has the biggest impact on the homeless community. You would be fielding all the projects and making sure we had enough volunteers to help. You would be taking care of the budgets for the projects. If you wanted free and total reign, I could even give you the power to callyour own meetings to get your own project ideas voted on and passed. You would be in the homeless community, coordinating your own projects and traveling around to help as many as you could.”
“Where does all this funding come from?” I asked.
“Wealthy donors, but the schmoozing is my part. You won’t have to attend any of those parties or charity balls. That’s my side of things. You’ll know when the money hits, and you can divvy it up as necessary,” she said.
“What are the project limits?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Are there any specific projects you won’t take on?” I asked.
“Well, let’s just say there hasn’t been a project yet that has been turned down. The only thing we ask is that when a project is presented, we need to know how much it costs, how many volunteers are necessary, what the main goals are, and how long it will last.”
“Fair enough.”
“The work you’re doing on your own is good, but helping a few people here and there won’t work in the long run. It helps those individuals, sure, but not the issue as a whole. The homeless need more housing, more medical treatment, more access to places to clean themselves up, an area where they can track down jobs and secure interviews. We need to set up connections with local places who are willing to interview and hire the homeless. We don’t have any of this infrastructure
yet.” There was a switch that occurred in her at that moment. This vixen
of a woman who was obviously hitting on me had gone from a wealthy woman who felt she owned the room to a caring woman who really wanted to do something about this issue. I could see her eyes glistening like she had a personal stake in this matter, and I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask her why she felt so strongly about this cause. But I was distracted the moment she leaned back in the chair. Ellen was wearing a striking black dress. The slit enough would drive a man wild, but her bosom was prominent and untamed. The pearl necklace she had on drew the eye to that very place before her body dipped into a very stark, slim waist. The mixed signals I was getting from her over dinner were mounting, and a sly smirk appeared on her face again as the conversation took a drastic turn. “Are you enjoying everything thus far?” she asked. I cleared my throat and nodded before our plates were taken away. “Good. Because my foundation could use a good man like you.” Just then, I felt something slide against my leg. My eyes connected with Ellen’s, her stare intense and her lips curled up slightly. I could feel it moving against my foot before something started slipping underneath the cuff of my pants, and I pulled my leg back harshly before I gripped
my wine glass. “At the risk of reading too much into things,” I said. “I am in a relationship with a woman I love very much.” “I like a man who’s dedicated,” she said, grinning. Her offer sounded wonderful. The work her foundation did sounded incredible. I knew just by talking to her that it was something I wanted to do, something I wanted to throw my whole heart into. But I couldn’t work with a woman like this, a woman who seemed practically unfazed by the fact that I was in a relationship. A little mindless flirting from a rich woman who was used to getting what she wanted I could tolerate, but now her gestures had become physical in nature. I saw her reach her hand over toward mine and wrap her fingers around it, and that’s when I stood up and set my napkin down on my plate. “Where in the world are you going?” she asked. “Home,” I said. “Why in the world would you do something like that? We haven’t even enjoyed our second course.” “I figured since I’d just told you I was in a relationship that you were no longer willing to fire me for the position. That, and you’re pretty brazen with your actions,” I said.
“Oh, Bryan, sit down and simply listen.” “Depends. Are you talking with your mouth or your body?” I asked. “Why can’t Italk with both?” she asked. “See, and there it is again, that brazen flirtation even though I’ve already stated I’m in a relationship,” I said. “Look, Mr. McBride, you’re incredibly attractive. Wildly, in fact. You have this bad boy aura about you while still being a decent man. And those tattoos, I’d have no issues tracing them with my tongue. Having sex with you would probably be the highlight of my month, but that is not why I approached you.” “Uh-huh,” I said. “I approached you and inquired about a career change for you because I believe in the work you do. You do it well, the stuff with your business and the homeless community. You have a practical head on your shoulders and a real, true passion to help these people. Do you know how hard that is to find nowadays?” she asked. “Yes, actually. I do,” I said. “Then you know how invaluable you are to me. If the flirtation makes you uncomfortable, then I’m more than happy to lay off. Honestly, I’m used to having to do it to get men to sway in my direction. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, even though you are very attractive,” she said. “You’re a woman of many talents, I’m sure. You don’t need to use your body to get what you want,” I said. “Oh, you’d be surprised. Money doesn’t gain me the type of power it gains for men. But that’s a different conversation for a different day. Just know that should things ever happen between you and this lucky woman of yours, I’m more than willing to be your delectable rebound.” This woman was relentless. I had no idea if I should’ve been flattered or annoyed by the entire thing. She was attractive, sure, but she was no Hailey. Her pompous attitude alone could propel me out the door before I’d even gotten my hands on her. But if she was willing to lay off the flirting and keep this strictly business, there was nothing standing in the way of me taking this job. Not anymore. So, I sat down just before the second course was placed in front of us. “So, does this mean you’re interested in the position?” she asked. “This means I’m willing to talk it over more, yes.” The food was some of the best I’d ever tasted. The steak was delicious, and the flavor combinations were unlike anything I’d ever indulged in. I thought myself to be cultured because of the way my parents raised my brother and me, but all of this was completely new to me. I hummed and groaned over the food, earning giggles from Ellen every now and again. But she stuck to her promise of not crossing any boundaries. “You would be paid a salary, of course. With benefits. But there isn’t a lot of room for raises and such. Because it’s a non-profit foundation, all the excess revenue outside of the salaries and what it takes to keep our main building up and running gets redistributed back into the projects. The good thing about that is your travel expenses and the like can be wrapped into the overall price of a project, so your salary can be stretched a bit further.” “That’s fine with me. The more money I’ve got for these projects, the better I can make them,” I said. “Sounds like you’ve accepted the job,” she said, grinning. “I’m speaking hypothetically, of course.” “Oh, of course,” she said. “Hypothetically.” But something in the tone of her voice told me she was simply mocking what I was saying. “What will you do with your own business?” she asked. “Will you leave that to someone?” “That’s one of the things I wanted to talk with you about,” I said. “Since I already have some of that community service wrapped up in my projects, what you would think about making my business one of your first projects?” “Assuming you take the job?” “Assuming so, yes.” “What did you have in mind?” she asked. “Present your idea like you would to the board to approve.” “It would go something like this. Many people have been asking me to expand outside of the San Diego area and to come in and develop housing like the type of subsidized housing I’m doing now. The only problem is cash flow. I’d have to dip back into debt to branch out, hire the hands I needed, and pay for the travel time to get to these sites.” “Either that or take the time to travel yourself and hire locals,” she said. “Exactly. I figured we could swing it one of two ways. The foundation could give a donation to the company to get the projects going, and then as we got trucking and sold off the housing, I could pay you back the money.” “Why would you do that if it’s a donation?” she asked. “Because the company will stand on its own with that area eventually, at least that’s the theory. It’s the initial branch-off that takes the most time and money. Once we get established, however, the foundation could take it upon itself to subsidize the housing for the homeless community. Pay for four or five months’ worth of bills for however many houses, and it would give them places to live so they could clean up and try to piece their lives back together.” “But they need more than a place to live,” she said. “Yes, which is why I would only work part-time starting out. I’d have to go between my company and the foundation for a spell. I’m not going to liquidate my company to come work for you. That’s not an option.” “I never expected you to,” she said. “What would you be doing part-time?”
“Establishing all those connections in the places we’re looking to go. I’d start here and branch out. I’d find places that would hire the homeless community and network, find barbers and hairdressers that would help the homeless community look their best, find thrift shops and retail stores that would be willing to donate clothes they could borrow. We could start an entire store where the only system needed is bartering. The homeless community works there helping other homeless people like themselves find clothes for interviews. They borrow them and bring them back when they’re done, and not only do they get to the interviews, but they have volunteer work already set up for their resume.” “See, it’s ideas like that, Bryan, that brought me to you. It’s got kinks to work out, but it’s an ingenious idea,” Ellen said. “And I’ve got plenty more of them,” I said. “Does this mean you’ll take the job?” she asked. “I don’t know. Would you be willing to settle for a part-time operations director until things could fall into place?” We sat in silence for a little while, and I could see her mulling over everything I’d thrown at her. She was nodding to herself like she was debating how people would react when she went back to tell them the news. I sat in my seat with my hands interlocked, gripping them tightly while I sat there and waited for her answer. The nerves coursing through my body was yet another signal I was on the brink of what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. “Let me talk with some people,” she said, “but I don’t see why not.”
Chapter 16
Hailey
I got up that morning and felt my body weighing down heavier than ever. It’d been about a week since the dinner with my parents, and every single night since, they’d called me. They wanted to know how I was doing and how I was feeling, but really it was becoming a nuisance. My evenings were the moments I had to settle down and rest my body or soak in a hot shower. My evenings were when my nausea got the best of me, and I was tired of listening to my cell phone constantly ringing off the hook. I finally had to tell t
hem that they didn’t have to call every evening, and I was hoping it would stick. I rolled out of bed and got a shower, not bothering to wash my hair before I stepped out. I needed it to be a little dirty since I was going to dye it a different color. The cyan didn’t seem to suit me anymore. I wanted something a bit darker. Maybe a crimson or a mauve sort of flair, but the cyan was getting on my nerves. I took out all the things I had to dye my hair with, the hair dye brush, the towel I wrapped around my neck, the gloves I used over and over again to massage the dye to my scalp, and the hair cap I stuck it all in so it could sit and develop. I turned on the fan and opened up the small bathroom window, trying to get as much ventilation in my bathroom as possible. Then, I pulled out my brush and began brushing my hair. I slowly worked out the knots of my hair that was not shoulder length. I debated on whether to cut it. I sort of missed my short hair. It had suited my long neck better. But as it grew out and started framing my face, I couldn’t help noticing that it brought a bit of life back into my eyes. And that’s what I needed now. More life. I brushed and brushed while the wind blew through my window. The cool air felt good on my heated skin, still red from the hot shower I’d taken earlier. I smiled for the first time in days as I set my brush down, but the moment I looked down at the bristles, shock coursed through my veins. There were chunks of hair sitting in my brush, and I could feel my exposed scalp shivering in the wind. I felt my jaw quivering as the light faded from my eyes. Now, I no longer cared about what color my hair was. Now, I no longer cared about how long my hair was. I looked up at myself and saw this massive bald spot on the side of my head, screaming at me as it taunted my reflection and reminding me of the disgusting things growing in my body, reminding me of the withered skeleton I’d be when they finally laid me into the ground. I dropped to my knees and sobbed into my hands. How the hell was I going to keep hiding this from Bryan? How in the world was I going to explain bald spots to him? My shoulders were getting thinner, and my ribcage was beginning to show. My appetite was getting worse, and my energy levels were becoming depleted. My joints ached, and I slept longer hours and even our lovemaking had become lazy. And now I was losing my hair, and I didn’t know how to hide this from him. I didn’t know how to explain it away. I needed to push him away, to break up and run in the opposite direction. I’d had so many chances to end it and so many chances to tell him I didn’t love him anymore, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look him in the face and tell him that big of a lie. I could tell him I was okay. I could tell him I was just tired. I could tell him the gallery was getting to me, but I couldn’t tell him I didn’t love him. I’d never be able to tell him that. I lay down on the floor of my pathetic little bathroom and drenched the floor with my tears. I wrapped my arms around my body and cried, shivering. I was suddenly painfully aware of how much hair I’d probably already lost, feeling the wind wrap around me and flutter over the bare spots of my scalp. I would have to come up with a way to get around it, but right now I couldn’t. I pulled myself up off the floor and shook my head when a clump of hair was sitting where my head had been. I picked it up in my hands as I looked at my reflection in the mirror again. I had to open the gallery in thirty minutes, which wasn’t enough time to try and figure out what the hell I was going to do with my hair. So, I gathered up the hair I’d lost with my shaking hands, flushed it down the toilet, and started rummaging around in my closet. I had a few scarfs I’d purchased for a project I tried many years back. I’d bought them in all different sizes and patterns and different colors and motifs. I’d cut them all up and glued them onto a canvas before I left it out in the sun. The colors bled onto the canvas when it rained while the scarves themselves faded and dried with the sun, and to the day it was my most popular project. I’d sold it almost immediately for three hundred dollars, and at the time, I’d thought I was simply rich. I smiled at the memory before I pulled out the box from the corner of my closet. I dug through and found a scarf I hadn’t used for the project. It was black and silver, with little dots of green and turquoise. I remembered purchasing it but never using it because the colors were too dark, too bleak, and too opaque for what I was trying to do. But now, the scarf seemed appropriate, even welcomed, in fact.
