Lie, Lie Again(19)
“Brussels sprouts,” he’d replied.
“Wow, those are a great source of vitamins and nutrients. Good choice.”
“I’ve never tried them, but my mom said if anyone asks me what I eat again, I should say brussels sprouts.” His eyes shifted to Darcy before they darted back to Riki.
“Here’s the thing, guys,” Riki said, sinking into her read-aloud chair. “There are all kinds of healthy food choices. You know that fruits and veggies are always good, right?”
There was a murmuring of agreement.
“And beyond that, try to pick foods with ingredients you can read, or at least, foods without a really long list of ingredients. Easy peasy?”
“Easy peasy,” they repeated.
“Look, I try to eat healthful foods. I like carrots and grilled chicken and salads. I eat eggs and yogurt and granola. But sometimes I want a Pop-Tart. And guess what? I’ll have one, and I’ll enjoy every chocolaty bite. And more important, don’t let what someone else says make you feel bad.” She looked at Jeremy, but he was busy twirling a pencil in his hand. “Okay, then. Questions?”
Brianne raised her hand. “What’s your favorite kind of Pop-Tart?”
“The chocolate ones. And that’s all we’re going to say about Pop-Tarts.” She’d smiled and stood. “Now, take out your math workbook and turn to page seventy-five.”
If she hadn’t made a quick transition, the kids would’ve turned it into a discussion of their favorite Pop-Tart flavors.
The sound of shattering glass rang through the steady fall of rain, followed by a sharp cry. She ran to the door and yanked it open. Sylvia was on her knees, holding her wrist, as curses tumbled from her mouth. A paper grocery bag lay next to her like a gutted fish with its entrails sprawled in a bloody pool. Riki held back the urge to scream. It isn’t blood, she reassured herself, taking in a fractured jar of pasta sauce, its sharp pieces gleaming in the misty dusk.
Ignoring the rain and remembering too late that she wasn’t wearing shoes, she rushed toward Sylvia. “Are you okay? What hurts?” she called, pushing her hair from her face.
Sylvia groaned and looked upward, the rain mixing with her tears. “My wrist.” She held it to her body like she was cradling a baby. “I think I broke it.”
“Oh no! Can you stand up? We need to get you inside.”
“Yes. It’s my wrist, not my foot,” she said in a biting tone.
Sylvia wasn’t mad at her—she knew that—but nonetheless, her tone stung. “Right.” She led her into her apartment and pulled out a chair. “Sit. I’ll get you some Tylenol. You shouldn’t take Advil if you have a broken bone,” she said, selecting a water glass from the cupboard.
“I thought you were a teacher, not a doctor.”
“I’ve broken my ankle, my wrist, and my elbow. Clumsy kid. Or weak bones. Anyway,” she said, returning from the kitchen with water and two pills, “take these. I’ll pick up the groceries and clean up the glass. The urgent care should still be open. It might be a better option than the ER—less wait time. It’s probably packed tonight with the rain.” Without listening for a response, Riki pulled off her socks and stepped into her Ugg boots before grabbing a broom and dustpan from the tiny hall closet. Her clothes were already wet, so she didn’t bother taking her umbrella, which she was surprised to see was propped in the corner of the closet.
As she swept up the mess, Embry appeared, huddled beneath a kid-size umbrella. She was wearing old Levi’s and a Duke University sweatshirt. The sweatshirt must’ve been a gift from her older brother. Riki had heard all about him—the Duke University graduate and doctor. “Is everything okay over there? I heard some shouting a minute ago.”
“Sylvia slipped. She thinks she broke her wrist. I’m going to run her to the urgent care once I get this cleaned up.”
“Oh no! Do you need some help?” She turned back to grab a look at her apartment. “I can sweep that real quick. Carson’s in the playpen, and Kylie’s watching a show we just started.”
“Thanks, but it’s okay. Go back in with the kids. We’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure. Send me a text if you need anything at all. We’re here.”
Riki swept up the mess, careful to avoid stepping on the broken glass. If Brandon had been home, would he have rushed over to help? He was probably already out bartending by now. Riki had often wondered where he worked, but she’d refrained from asking. It was better to not know. The way her slippery mind worked, she’d end up an alcoholic, ordering drink after drink just so she had an excuse to sit at his bar. With a final sweep, she collected the last shards into the dustpan and walked them carefully over to the trash area.
She returned to find Sylvia with her cheek pressed to the table. The rest of her face was drained of color, just like the diluted marinara sauce. Riki’s gut reaction was to leave her undisturbed, but her sense of duty kicked in, as it always did. “Are you ready to go?”
“I’ll drive myself. You don’t have to babysit me. I’m fine.”
“Not a chance. I’ll get my keys.” She rushed to her room and tore off her wet clothing for a second time today before swiping a towel across her damp skin and wriggling back into a pair of jeans and slipping on a hoodie.