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 pay 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.
Hold on to Your Combs, Chickens, and Easy with Them Pins
“See you next week,” I smile at the last clients leaving the studio and haste to complete “closing rituals.” I blow out the candles, turn off the diffusers, close all the windows, get my things, and lock up. Hurrying home, I hoist my bag up my shoulder while holding a tote bag in the other, all while balancing a travel mug and a phone pressed to my ear mid-conversation with my mom. Yes, it’s the third time today. This time she tells me a little less politely that I’m driving her a tad crazy with my constant worrying. Well, rushing to the hospital thinking you lost your one functioning parent will do that to a girl.
“Yeah, okay, go back to your show,” I say. “If you need anything—”
“I know, Bean, I’ll call you or your sister. Now, go on. Enjoy your evening. Send my love to the girls,” she says and hangs up. Also, I think she’s still a bit embarrassed by it all. It’s been almost a week since the false heart attack ordeal, yet the panic attack alternative still worries me. We sorted out the money situation, and by that, I mean Vicky sorted out the money situation. Apparently, she got some loan from her place of work, one that both her, I, and my mom will return for the next few good months. When Vicky told me she had found a solution and that I would get to keep my studio I was too thrilled to pay extra attention to the fact that her eyes were anywhere but on mine when she delivered the news. Asking her about it is still on my to-do list, but we probably won’t be discussing it tonight, not with all the gang present. There’s a time and place to interrogate your sibling.