She never judged me.
“I’m a terrible, terrible friend,” I said quietly.
“What? You’re not.”
“No,” I insisted. “I am. So Annie is going through a really hard time, and what do I do? Make her feel worse by judging her. Okay, so I don’t understand her way of coping. But as her best friend, I should just be there for her. Not try and change her or help. She doesn’t need my help, she needs to know I’m here. Always.”
I reached for my phone so I could shoot off a text to her, but Aidan’s hand stopped me. “Have that conversation in person. If you feel that way, say it face to face, and maybe there’s a chance she’ll really hear you.”
“I just wanted to tell her I love her, and that we’ll talk soon.”
He smiled. “Yeah, do that.”
After I went to the tree to send the text, I came back and finished lunch. “What should we do today?”
“Whatever we want,” he said with a charming grin. “I gotta question for you.”
“Uh oh. Will I like this question?”
He threw me a look. “How would you feel about buying a place upstate? So we could have a weekend place.”
“We’re not really in a position to buy,” I pointed out.
We had very little in savings. All of our money was tied up in Veritas, and it was still a new bar. It was turning a small profit, but it went right back into the business. I made a decent living, but book advances were not what they used to be. And I was still an unknown. A traditional publisher had only taken a chance on me because I’d had a decent social media following—and that was because I’d made an ass out of myself on YouTube. I’d hit The New York Times once, but that didn’t mean I was swimming in a pile of gold coins.
I was a millennial cliché.
“I—ah—my grandmother,” Aidan said. “Offered.”
“The one in Florida or the one in New Jersey?”
“The one in Florida,” he said. “She just sold her house and is moving to a retiree community on the beach.”
“Living the dream,” I mused.
He smiled. “Something like that. Anyway, she knows how expensive it all is up here. She wants to help.”
“Sweet of her.”
“Anyway. Think about it. It might be nice for us when…”
I knew what he was going to say: when we had kids.
There was no stopping this train, I realized. Aidan had boarded the baby express; his biological cock was ticking. I needed to hop on. And soon.
“A storm’s coming,” I announced.
Aidan looked up at the clear blue sky. “I’ve been checking the GPS weather app. Nothing is showing up.”
I blew my already red nose—I’d woken up with a stuffy head. “I’m telling you, a storm is coming. I never pay attention to weather apps. This”—I pointed to my nose—“is the only app I need. I’m a regular barometer.”
“Are you sure you’re not just sickly?”
“Shut up.”
Sure enough, three hours later, the temperature dropped, gray clouds rolled in, and snow flurries fell.
“How did you know?” Aidan asked in amazement.
“I told you. It’s a magical gift.”
It was too cold for me to enjoy a campfire, so we got into the tent. We drank mini bottles of scotch and played cards as the flurries turned into full-on snow.
“Your magical gift can’t tell us how many inches we’re expecting, can it?” Aidan asked.
We were lying down, snuggled up together, warm and cozy in our privacy. I couldn’t believe it had already been a week and half since Aidan had brought me here.
“Sorry, it doesn’t work like that.”
“How are you? Are you cold?”
“I’m wearing a thermal, a hoodie, and a jacket.”
“So you’re cold,” he teased. “What are my chances of getting you naked?”
“Pretty good. But I’m not taking off the wool socks.”
“Deal,” he said.
Aidan and I hadn’t been married a long time, but I already had a rule: never say no to sex unless you really didn’t feel well, and even then, the best cure for a headache was sex. I’d done my own study on the matter.
My mother’s first rule of marriage: never let your husband see you in a pair of sweatpants. She claimed this was why she and my father still had an active sex life—she’d also chosen to share this wisdom with me on my wedding day. Thankfully, I’d had enough champagne to douse the image of my parents being anything other than parents. I chose to believe I came from a cabbage patch. It was just easier.
“That was nice,” I said when Aidan rolled off me.
“Yeah, it was.”
We took a few moments to clean up—which was difficult in the tent, but we made it work. “There’s something really enjoyable about being out of the city,” I admitted when I climbed into the sleeping bag.
“So what you’re saying is you want to do this regularly,” Aidan said, fluffing up one pillow behind his head.
“Not even a little bit.” I grinned. “But once in a while, yeah. And maybe in the summertime. The weather’s been pretty good, but”—I gestured to the outside—“I could do without the random snow storms.”
“I hear ya. But if we camp in summer, you’re going to deal with mosquitoes. And gnats.”
I sighed. “Bugs love me.”
“It’s because you’re sweet meat. I’m gonna start calling you that.”
“Veto.” I smiled and leaned over to kiss him. “Good night, love.”
“Good night.”
The next morning, I woke up before Aidan. I peeked outside the tent and didn’t see any white. The snow hadn’t stuck which was nice. I quietly climbed out of the tent so not as to disturb him. I gingerly made my way toward the privacy tent, but my foot hit a patch of frost on a hidden tree root. Because I was me, I tripped and tumbled with all the grace of a drunken hippo. I hit the ground with an audible thump. In a hope to stop my fall, my hands reached out in front of me. My right wrist took the brunt of it, and I heard the snap of bone.
I cursed and screamed, and tears leaked down my cheeks. Aidan came running, his boots only halfway laced up. He crouched down next to me.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“Tripped,” I said between a gasp and a moan. I cradled my wrist, wondering if it was too early for Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey.
“You get whatever you want for however long you want,” Aidan said.
I looked up at him and gave him what was sure a dopey grin. “You’re pretty.”
Aidan looked at the nurse who was monitoring my pulse. “Whatever you gave her…thanks. She loves me again.”
“Love you always,” I gushed.
“Let me guess,” the middle-aged nurse remarked. “Newlyweds?”
“He wants a baby,” I blurted out.
The nurse leaned close to me and stage whispered, “Honey, if my husband looked like your husband, we’d have six children.”
I stared at Aidan and sighed. “He would make pretty puppies. That’s for sure.”
“Sibby,” Aidan said, trying to keep a straight face. “How are you feeling?”
Gesturing to my blue-casted wrist, I grinned. “I don’t hurt.”
“That’s good.”
“I want sweet potato fries,” I murmured. “With chipotle aioli.”
“You guys are from the city, aren’t you?” the nurse asked.
Aidan scratched his beard. “That obvious?”
I reached up and stroked his chin. “This is nice.”
“I’m just gonna leave you two alone,” the nurse said with a wink.
“I’m sorry I’m klutzy,” I said. “Now our camping trip is cut short.”
After I’d tripped and fallen, Aidan had rushed me to the nearest hospital. My right wrist was broken, and I’d have to wear a cast for six weeks. I had no idea how I was going to write, but at the moment, I didn’t care because Oxy.
“Will
you sign my cast?” I asked. “I’ve never had a cast, and I want this one signed.”
“You’ve never had a cast? As clumsy as you are?”
“Born under a lucky star.”
He touched my shoulder. “Let me go find a Sharpie at the nurses’ station. I’m sure they have one.”
“Did you know the French word for hospital is hôpital?”
“I did not know that.”
“I like French. Maybe you can write me a French poem on my cast.”
“Maybe,” he said with a soft grin. “Let me go find that Sharpie, okay?” Aidan left.
My cell phone rang on the hospital bedside table. I stared at it for a moment. “Oh!” I picked it up. “Uhm, hello?”
“Sibby?”
“Mom?”
“Yes, it’s me. Why are you answering your phone?”
“Because it’s my phone?”
“I thought you were out of service for a few more days.”
“Change of plans.”
“You sound funny. Are you smoking the reefer?”
“What? No—”
“It’s okay if you are. I’m not judging. In fact, studies have shown that marijuana opens the consciousness.”
“So does Oxy,” I murmured.
My mother paused. “Oxy? Are you on Oxy?”
“Uhm, maybe?”
“What have you done to yourself, Sibyl Ruth?”
My mother just middle-named me. This was my fault for answering the phone while under the influence of a narcotic.
“I might’ve broken my wrist.”
“Doing what?”
“Uh, walking.”
“Where’s Aidan?”
“Getting a Sharpie so he can sign my cast.”
At that moment, Aidan reappeared, Sharpie in hand. “Who are you talking to?”
Chapter 10
#backtocivilization #yayinternet
I held out the phone to him. “It’s Mrs. Goldstein.”
“Your mother? Why are you calling her Mrs. Goldstein?”
“She’s in a mood.”
“I heard that!” came my mother’s voice from the speaker.
“I gave her the setting of this dark comedy.”
Aidan rolled his eyes and took my phone. “Hi, Mom…. Yeah, she tripped…on a tree root. She’s fine.” He paused. “About six weeks. No, I promise. Okay. Love you too.” He hung up and set my phone aside.
“What did you promise her?”
“That I wouldn’t let you get hooked on Benzos.”
“I’m not even on Benzos,” I muttered. “Can we please get out here?”
“Yep. You’re all checked out. I’ve got your prescription for pain pills in my pocket. And”—he held up the Sharpie—“one of these bad boys. Let me sign it real fast. You still want a French poem? I could Google one real fast.”
“Nope. English is fine.”
“I’m really sorry, Sibby,” Aidan said as we walked to the elevator.
“For what? Dragging me to the woods,” I teased.
His face sobered. “Yeah. None of this would’ve happened if—”
“Aidan, I’m fine. I’m okay.”
“You walked into Cow Parsnip and wound up with a terrible rash.”
“Yeah.”
“And the raccoon—”
“Didn’t get the PayDay bar.”
“I took you from cell service and email! And now your wrist is broken!” Aidan stated, sounding desperate.
“My best friend got you punched in the nose,” I reminded him. The swelling on the bridge of his nose had gone down, and he hadn’t taken any Advil the last two days, so he was on the mend. “You know, despite all the crap, I had fun.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. But Aidan,” I said quietly.
“Yeah, Sib?”
“If you don’t take me back to the city so I can order Seamless, I might have to kill you.”
He laughed and wrapped an arm around me. The elevator doors dinged open. “I love how you didn’t demand a real shower first.”
I sighed and pushed the button for the lobby. “Would you believe me if I told you I was sick of beef products? I need some Indian in my diet.”
“God, I’d kill for a pizza.”
“Make you a deal,” I said. “We get back to the city and for the next few days that we were supposed to still be upstate, we’ll have a staycation and order food from all our favorite restaurants.”
“Deal.”
“Bed!” I yelled and flopped down onto my back. “Oh, God, Aidan. Come feel this mattress.”
Aidan climbed onto the bed next to me. “Glorious. Jesus. I’ve missed you.”
“I’m never leaving this bed ever again. This bed is perfect.”
We’d debated spending the night at his parents’ house, but we’d decided to take the train home, not caring how late we’d get back to Brooklyn. While I’d been in the hospital, Aidan’s dad and sister had gone to the campsite to pack it up. There had been nothing for us to do, and I, for one, was incredibly grateful.
“How’s your wrist? It’s almost time for another pain pill.”
“I’m okay,” I said truthfully. “And I’d like to find a way not to take the meds if I can help it.”
“Take one tonight so you can sleep. Trust me. You don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night in pain.”
I smiled. “You mean you don’t me to wake you up in the middle of the night because I’m in pain.”
“That too,” he agreed with a grin. “Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news.”
“Bad news first please.”
“Our favorite Indian place closed an hour ago.”
“Good news?”
“The Thai place is open.”
I pouted. “But it’s pick-up only.”
He leaned over and kissed my nose. “I’ll wrap your wrist, you’ll get into the shower, and I’ll go get the food when you get out.”
“Your guilt is really working for me, isn’t it?”
Aidan laughed. “You could probably ask for the moon, and I’d find a way to get it for you.”
“Just get me Thai food and a shower and I’m good.”
“You’re too easy.”
“Hey!” I laughed, smothering his face in kisses.
“You walked right into that one,” Aidan said, pulling me to him, mindful of my wrist. “You really had fun?”
“For the most part. Yeah, I did.”
“That shit with Annie is weighing on you.” His hand stroked up and down my arm, and it was so soothing I was in danger of falling asleep.
I sat up and rubbed my left hand down my face. “Have you talked to Caleb?”
He paused.
“How bad?” I asked.
“Bad. He’s moving out.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Did she even text you back?”
I shook my head.
“What are you going to do? Call her?”
“Right now?” I lifted my shoulders into a defeated shrug. “I’m going to shower.”
The next morning I awoke in my very own bed—with a throbbing wrist. Aidan was out of bed before I could even utter a moan. He brought me some toast and two pain killers.
“Can’t have you downing those on an empty stomach,” he warned.
I hardly chewed. And then I was popping pills like Judy Garland in her heyday. “Easy there, tiger.”
“This is worse than when I smashed my nose into the swinging door at Antonio’s.”
A slow smile crept across his face.
“You dirty perv. You’re remembering our secret affair.”
“Ah, the early days of our courtship.” He grinned, his eyes a little glazed.
“Hey. You love me for my mind, too, ya know.”
“I do, yeah.”
“And my humor.”
“Definitely.”
“But you really love me for my butt. Don’t lie.”
“It was a major selling poin
t in the early stages. Frankly, sometimes I thought you were a little more trouble than you were worth.”
“Liar!” I laughed.
“Okay, your turn.”
“My turn what?”
“Objectify me,” he clarified.
“Not without a cup of coffee.” I climbed out of bed. “You’re not going to believe this, but I’m totally used to that tent.”
“Yes!” He held out his fist for a bump. “My mission is complete.”
“Put that fist away, bro,” I teased.
He made the explosion noise accompanied by his fist opening.
“You’re keeping the lumberjack beard, right?”
He scratched his jaw. “If you like it.”
“I love it.”
“Great. I’m another hipster with a beard in Brooklyn.”
I rolled my eyes. “Who owns a bar. It’s totally gonna work for you and you know it.” I got the coffee going and only then realized that we didn’t have a carton of half and half.
“I’ll run to the corner bodega and grab some,” he said.
“You’re the best.”
“And you’re the invalid.” He threw on his clothes, pressed a kiss to my lips, and was out the door. I waited about five seconds before going for my phone. I checked Instagram, pleased with the number of likes and views on my camping videos. The video of me doped up in the hospital was by far the biggest success.
Was it wrong that I enjoyed it?
I debated a moment before calling Annie. She still hadn’t replied to my text. I wasn’t sure what to say to her, and now that Caleb had moved out, I knew she’d need me more than ever. Before I could talk myself out of calling, I dialed her number from my favorites list. It rang and rang and then went to voicemail. I left a stilted message, telling her I’d heard about the break-up and that I was here if she wanted to talk.
Tales of a Sibby Slicker Page 7
