by Jo Michaels
“I figured. Never seen you sporting braids before. How’s she doing?” Lilian stuck a sandwich in the microwave and hit start before sitting on the edge of a nearby chair.
“She’s good. Great, actually.”
With wide eyes, Lilian said, “That’s amazing. Bet you’re happy to have her home, huh?”
Simone nodded. “You have no idea.”
“I probably don’t, but I couldn’t ima—” A ding interrupted, and Lilian retrieved her lunch, unwrapping the steaming package and waving a hand over it. “Like I was saying, I couldn’t imagine my mom getting that sick or coming so close to losing her.” She picked up the sandwich and took a huge bite.
“How do you eat that stuff?” Simone asked.
Lilian swallowed. “Same way you drink that stuff.” She grinned.
“Touché.” Chugging the rest of the coffee, Simone tucked the book back in her bag, stood, and slung it over her shoulder. “Break time’s up. Sorry I missed our usual chat today. Back to the grind.”
“Be safe! It’s a jungle out there.” Lilian chuckled and waved a hand.
“Don’t I know it.”
By the end of the shift, Simone was worn out and eager to get home and into bed. Fate, it seemed, had other ideas. As soon as she walked through the door, her mother started talking. She yammered and gushed about her day and how she’d found a job as a waitress already. Trying to be the good daughter, Simone made an attempt at listening and being excited. Her head lolled to one side, and her eyes slid closed while she was still sitting upright at the table.
“Honey? Get up and go to bed.”
Groggy, she lurched to her feet and stumbled down the hallway to her room where she collapsed in a heap.
Simone’s eyes snapped open in the middle of the night, and panic filled her. She was sure she’d left the book in her messenger bag—hanging off the back of the kitchen chair. Frantically, she shoved a hand under the pillow to feel around, hoping she’d brought it in with her through the haze of exhaustion.
It wasn’t there.
Heart racing, she bolted from the bed and shot down the hall, feet sending vibrations through the subfloor.
No bag on the back of the chair.
Positive she was about to have a heart attack, her hands vibrated as she spun in circles, eyes darting around the room.
Where could it be? Where did I leave it? I’m sure it was right here!
“What’s all the banging about?”
“Mom! Did you see my bag?” Simone whisper-yelled.
With wide eyes, Yvette shook her head. “This is out of control. I’m really worried about you. Being attached to something is one thing, but this is an obsession. Don’t you see what that book is doing to you? What it’s done?”
Tears formed, and Simone snaked her arms around her body, trying to hold herself together. Her mother didn’t understand. How could she? A single, fat drop rolled down Simone’s face. She whispered, “Please? Did you see it?”
Wrapping her in a firm hug, her mother finally answered, “I put your bag in your room. I didn’t touch the book. It’s there, and it’s safe.”
Simone wiggled away and raced down the hall.
“Simone!”
“I’ll be right back!”
Wrenching the doorknob, she still had her hand on the metal as her eyes scanned the room.
There.
Yes.
She darted across the room and snatched her bag up, plucking the book out and cradling it to her chest. Calm enveloped her.
A throat clearing behind her made her jump, and she spun around to find her mother leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes hooded. “We need to talk.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.” Yvette spun away toward the living room.
Simone followed, a new kind of fear rising inside. They sat on the couch, and she put the book in her lap with one hand on top. “Mom, I know what you’re gonna say—”
“No, you don’t.” Yvette dipped her head so she could look her daughter in the eye. “I know what that book means to you. I know what you think it’s done, but, honey, it’s just not possible.”
Anger flared. “It is. You were there. It happened to you!” Simone huffed and pressed her lips together. “Even the doctors couldn’t explain it.”
“I’m in remission. The drugs worked.”
“Seriously?”
“That’s all that makes sense.”
She ground her teeth together. “Oh yeah? What about your hair, huh? Did the drugs magically make it grow back? Out of thousands of people, you’re the only one that happened to? Really?”
“But, sweetheart, a magic book?” Yvette put a hand on her daughter’s. “There’s no such thing.”
Simone’s frustration grew, and she stabbed the cover of the book with one finger. “Yes, there is. It’s right here.”
“That’s not a magic book.”
“Then explain why there are no words on the pages anymore.”
“Maybe they faded.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. It saved your life.”
“Simone, that’s not a magic book. There’s no such thing. This is out of control, and you have to stop.” Yvette’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “The stress is killing you. You look like you’ve aged a few years in the last couple of months.”
“That happened when I read to you.”
“Honey—”
Holding up a hand, Simone said, “Look, I don’t expect you to believe me. How could you? You were on the verge of death and probably don’t remember much of anything. But I know what happened. I saw it, and this book is the only thing I have that’ll guarantee I won’t lose you.” She choked on the last sentence, and her eyes got hot, but she pushed on. “You’re… Well, you’re all I have. Dad doesn’t know me like you do. I can’t talk to him. If you leave me, too…” Sobs escaped, and the tears flowed like rivulets from a downpour.
She was in Yvette’s arms a moment later, drenching her shoulder.
“Shh. Shh, baby, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
There was no way to explain that it was guaranteed she wouldn’t be going anywhere if Simone had the book, but the girl couldn’t bring herself to argue a moment more. She decided then and there, if she was going to keep the book—which was a foregone conclusion—and the peace around the house, she’d have to be more careful or find a way to lock it up. Pulling away, she grabbed some tissues, blew her nose, and tried to smile. “I promise to work on letting go, okay?”
“That’s all I ask.”
The women hugged again.
“It’s late. Are you still tired, or did you want to have dinner?” Yvette asked.
“Are you kidding? I’m starving!” Simone slid the book under a cushion and got up. “Did you cook?”
“I did! Let me heat your plate up.”
Dinner was a pile of sad-looking potatoes and two slices of dry meatloaf. She choked it down as best as she could, but not once did she complain. Drowning it in copious amounts of ketchup helped. When she was done, she washed her plate and fork, putting them in the dish drainer next to the other set they owned, remembering a time when they’d had a dishwasher and a whole set of matching dinnerware. Their old dishes were one other thing that had been sacrificed to the pawn gods along the way.
Yvette seemed to sense her daughter’s sadness and put a hand on her shoulder.
As badly as she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to smile. There were too many hurts over the previous couple of years, and her heart was still closed. Instead, she pressed her lips together and patted her mother’s fingers.
“It’s been hard without me around, hasn’t it?”
“Not as bad as it could’ve been. At least I was only six months away from turning sixteen when you got sick the first time, and Dad was courteous enough to wait until after my birthday to leave. No foster care required, and they didn’t make me go live with him.” She shudde
red.
“Well, things will be different now!” Yvette planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “I have a job, you have a job, we have steady child support—finally—and we’ll work with those for the time being.”
A tiny roach ran out from under the stove and skittered across the warped linoleum as though it knew its life depended on being lightning fast.
She yelped and stomped the insect. “Starting with the bugs in this shithole.” With a paper towel, she wiped up the smear and threw the mess in the trash. “I can’t wait to move. But let’s get some real sleep now.”
Nodding, Simone moved to the couch and retrieved the book, allowing it to dangle from her fingers as though it were just another raunchy romance novel she’d snagged from the library, not wanting to incite further questions or looks.
But there was no need for the charade; Yvette didn’t look back once as she walked to her room.
After the door was closed and locked, Simone threw herself on the bed and wrapped the book in an embrace, sure she heard it whispering in her ear, dragging her into fantastical dreams of beasts and creatures that only lived in fairy tales.
When Simone woke, a grin bloomed on her face. Payday had arrived, and she was eager to get some grocery shopping done. She rolled out of bed, used the bathroom, brushed her teeth and hair, and threw on some yoga pants and an old t-shirt before grabbing the book and heading down the hall for a cup of coffee.
A note from Mom was taped to the front of the cupboard.
Simone,
Left for work. If you need me, I’m at Tuck’s, the diner on the corner of Main and 5th. Breakfast shift. Coffee in pot.
I love you,
Mom
Simone smiled and took out her usual cup, the one with the red Chevy logo on it, and poured the dark liquid, sticking it in the microwave and hitting the one-minute button. While it did its thing, she grabbed her messenger bag, put the book inside, and put on her sneakers. A ding sounded, and she added the usual sugar and milk before heading out the door.
Her first stop was Buy-Right, and her second was the bank. Knowing she’d need most of the money, she only deposited a fourth in her account before heading for Tuck’s Diner to find out what her mom wanted grocery wise.
Simone strode in, the little bell over the door giving a happy jingle, and settled on a stool at the counter. She was perusing the menu when a masculine voice had her lifting her head.
A pair of baby blue eyes sucked her in and left her breathless. Positive the lips below were forming words but unable to hear them because of the roaring sound in her ears, she stared.
And stared.
And stared.
Finally, a hand on hers startled her out of the daze.
“Are you okay, miss?” His perfect lips twitched.
With a shake of the head, she pulled away, dropped the laminated menu, and felt her face get hotter than it had ever been. She managed a half-drunken-sounding mumble as she leaned down to pick up the menu. When she straightened, the back of her head collided with the bar, and she fell backward with a yelp, smashing her skull again on the floor.
Shooting pain flashed through her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, bringing both hands up to cover her face. She was sure she was going to cry. Being a grade-A klutz was one thing, doing it in front of the hottest guy on the planet was something else altogether. Worse, she had no idea where it came from. Never in her life had she been one to trip over her own feet. It was one of those epic fail moments where she wished she could vanish or melt into the floor. Usually, she was the quiet, graceful one, minding her own business, not drawing attention to herself.
Hands, warm and rough with calluses, cradled her face. “Ma’am?”
Oh, God! He’s touching me! Sucking back tears, she nodded.
“Simone?”
Thank you, Mom!
Yvette’s footsteps grew close, and in a moment, she was pulling her daughter’s head into an embrace. “What did you do to her, Tristan?”
He let go, and it sounded like he stood because his words weren’t as loud. “I didn’t do anything! I only asked her if she wanted to order, and she went all cavewoman on me.”
Simone groaned. Cavewoman! Great.
Her mother’s fingers explored like they were feeling for injuries. “Well, she seems fine. Simone? Honey? Are you okay?”
Finally, Simone lowered her hands and cracked one eye open, and then the other one followed. “Hey, Mom.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just embarrassed as hell,” she whispered. When she sat up, her head swam, and she put a palm over the top of her skull. “Ugh.”
“Can you stand?”
She nodded, got her feet under her, checked to be sure she was clear of the bar, and straightened. After wobbling a moment, she managed to dust herself off and straighten her clothes and hair, letting the locks fall forward to cover her face until it cooled.
“Well, I wish you would’ve told me you were coming. I didn’t expect to see you today.” Yvette planted her hands on her hips and ticked her head to one side. “What are you doing here?”
“I came by to see if you wanted anything special from the grocery store. Today’s payday and my usual shopping day. I figured I’d eat something while I waited.” Face still blazing five-thousand degrees, Simone hazarded a glance at the young man.
He had a lopsided grin on his face, and his arms were crossed over his chest.
“Then what happened? How’d you end up on the floor?” Yvette asked.
“Well, I was looking at the menu, and then I… Ahhh… Well, I dropped it, and when I bent over to pick it up, wham!”
Mom’s shoulders shook as she clearly tried to hold in laughter; it made Simone blush harder, her eyes threatening to spill forth the liquid they’d been so carefully guarding. Her mom went to the other side of the counter and straightened her face.
Once it was clear there would be no further embarrassment by her chuckling, the girl carefully sat on the stool once again and gripped the menu like a lifeline.
“Can I get you anything then?” her mom asked.
“Yeah. I think I’ll have the eggs and grits. Eggs over medium, please.” Simone didn’t dare look anywhere but at her mother or the menu. Suddenly, she pulled it away, and Simone was left sitting with nothing to pretend to read.
Tristan sat on the next stool over and slumped sideways, leaning on the counter. “Hey, I’m sorry if I scared you before. I shouldn’t have just touched you like that.”
“Uh, it’s okay.”
“I’m Tristan, by the way.” He stuck out his hand. “And you must be Simone, Yvette’s daughter. She’s been talking about how she has this amazing young lady in her life.”
She took his hand in hers, not daring to let her eyes wander to his face again. “I am. It’s nice to meet you. Glad it was only good things.”
“Same here. It was.” Letting go, he rubbed his palms on the front of his jeans and stood. “I need to get back to work now, but if you need anything, I’m around. Just holler.”
“Kay. Thanks.” While she stared at the smooth wood of the vintage countertop, she allowed herself to breathe. He’s only a boy, and I’m only a girl.
“Here ya go!” Yvette said, sliding a plate across the varnish. She leaned over and clasped her hands together, forearms resting on the bar.
When Simone finally looked up, she found Tristan had disappeared, and she let out a long sigh.
Her mother grinned. “He’s something, huh?”
Rather than answer—because, really, what could be said about a man with such perfect eyes—Simone grabbed the pepper and doused her eggs liberally.
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”
Mouth full, she banged one hand on the counter and held up the other with her forefinger lifted. After she swallowed, she said, “Wait! I still need to know what you want from the store. And can I snag a cup of coffee?”
“How about I get you that coffee, and t
hen I’ll take a little break so we can chat?”
She looked around the place and shrugged. There were no other patrons. Her mom sauntered toward the kitchen. To Simone’s chagrin, Tristan walked out with a blue bag in his hand.
“Thought you might want something for that bump. Seemed pretty bad, the way your head smacked the ground and bounced like it did.” He put the ice pack on the counter and winked.
If a human could float away on a breeze, she was positive it would’ve happened to her right then and there. It wasn’t that Tristan was only good looking. No, in her eyes, he was perfection, and she drank him in. His trim body, his height—not too tall and not too short, his hair that was longish and brown—but not so long it got in the way of gorgeous eyes that would make a clear, midsummer sky jealous, and his tan—just the right amount to make you wonder where he found a constant stream of gentle sunlight.
And he’d winked. At her.
Once she found her voice again, she squeaked out a thank you and focused back on the food, wishing he’d say something else, but also wishing he’d go away and leave her with her shame.
At the sound of the kitchen doors flapping against one another, she finally lifted her head and let out a breath.
He was gone.
A second later, her mom reappeared, two steaming cups of coffee in hand. She came around the front of the counter and sat in the spot Tristan had vacated shortly before. After stirring sugar and creamer into both coffees, she pushed one toward her daughter and grinned.
Warm and creamy, the liquid heated her insides to match the temperature of her skin. It took her a few sips to calm down, but she was finally able to put the ice pack on her head and turn toward her mother.
“Do you have a pen?” Yvette asked.
“For?”
“Um, to write a list for the store?”
“Oh!” Holy shit. I’m batting a thousand today. “Yeah!” A piece of paper and pen were produced, and Simone put them on the bar, pushing them over. “There ya go.”
“Simone, there’s nothing on this list.”
“I know. I haven’t started it yet. I was gonna get your input then fill in the blanks.” She smiled, showing teeth.
Mom chuckled and wrote a couple of things down before passing the list back.
