Sweet Forty-Two(67)

“That’s me,” I chirped. I was done trying not to seem anxious. I needed to let it all out before I saw my mom.

“Everything went well. She’s still coming out of anesthesia, so we can’t let you back yet. Did you and your mother discuss you going home before she was released?”

My ears got hot. “No ... why would I go home?”

The nurse tilted her head. “It might be a few hours before she’s ready to go home, and we won’t be able to let you back to see her for quite some time. You might want to go get food or something?”

I looked around, not having an answer. Not having a place to go, really. “I’ll stay here.”

I put enough conviction behind it that she didn’t try to encourage me again to leave. “Okay. Well there’s a deli two buildings down if you get hungry. Other than that, just make yourself comfortable, and we’ll be out to get you as soon as we can.”

“K...” I trailed off with a slight shrug. I’d hoped to be there when my mom came out of anesthesia.

Who am I kidding? I’d hoped not to be here at all. Once those expectations were blown, I didn’t bother forming new ones.

I shuffled back to my seat and took out my cell phone as a matter of procedure. There was no one I had to notify about how it went or how long we’d be. I did a double-take as I was about to slide my phone back into my bag. I had a text message. Tapping on the envelope icon, I noted a message from a number I didn’t recognize. Because I didn’t keep any numbers in my phone besides my mother’s. It was too risky, putting someone’s number in your contacts like you were going to let them stick around enough to be “tapped” for a phone call one lazy Sunday.

Hey, the message started, the food was a hit! All gone within the first half of our session.

Regan? I typed back.

Are you handing out baked goods anywhere else? Any black market I should be aware of? Bo would raid it.

I smiled. The little girl smile I mocked with an eye roll. It seemed Regan really did make me smile like I used to. And he made me smile even when I was doing that slow lazy fall like Alice did through the rabbit hole. The one my mother trained me to parachute through. People refer to it as a fast, velocity-hungry descent. It’s not. It’s slow, and you get drunk on too much time to think while you beg for the bottom. Still, I smiled.

No, no black market. I forgot I gave you my number.

I didn’t think I had.

You didn’t. Lissa did.

Fucking Lissa.

Fucking Lissa. She can’t keep a secret to save her life.

She really couldn’t. Which is why she didn’t know any of mine.

She put up a good fight, but I wore her down. I told her there was a leak in the apartment and your bakery was starting to flood.

I smiled again. Crafty, Kane.

Thank you. So. Can we have more of your goodies? Like tomorrow. Or ... every day?

No. You can’t possibly appreciate it every day.

I appreciate everything every day.

Damn him. I knew he did, too.

Come on, he cut in front of me, please? They’re so good. The hippies are in love. Do you use organic ingredients?

I rolled my eyes. Tell them yes.

It wasn’t them who asked. It was me. ;)

I chuckled out loud, my bitter exterior fading, peeling like old paint.

Still yes.

You’re lying.

What do you care?

I don’t want to die from pesticide-laden food.

Regan, I think the three cigarettes a day you think I don’t know you smoke will kill you faster than processed tapioca flour will.

My smile took over my full face. Once I knew his recording schedule, I’d watch him leave sometimes. You can tell a lot about a person by how they leave a place in the morning. He was someone who wasn’t at all convinced that mornings should exist.

Now you’re the crafty one, Hall. Won’t you be sorry when you’re wrong. My tombstone will read “For the love of Tapioca.”

I laughed out loud. An elderly man with his hand on a cane as he sat across from me looked up and smiled, too. I bit my lip and formed my response.

With a capital “T”?

Well, if it was the death of me, I’d say it’s important.

I’ll allow it.

Are you working at the bar tonight?

Yes.

Hmm. I’m coming. Let me play, too. Also, I’ll stay till close and then we can go back to your bakery and make more muffins. And cupcakes. I swear Bo has to shut up about the cupcakes. It’s like he grew up in an Amish household the way he’s carrying on about them.

You won’t get any sleep if you do that.

Trust me, I don’t need sleep. Baking that stuff keeps Ember and Willow from an MMA fight.

The power of food.

“Georgia?” The real-life voice sounded out of place in my ears. I’d spent the last half hour with Regan’s muddled Bostonian-Irish mashup flowing through my brain.

Brain.

Shit.

I looked up to find the same pleasant nurse with the rehearsed smile and precision head tilt standing in the doorway.

“You can come back with me, now.”

I stood. Smiled. Walked forward. Rehearsed.

We were all actors here.





Regan

I walked into E’s promptly at 9:00 PM. That wasn’t a time Georgia had told me to come. In fact, she never texted me back with confirmation of my request to come and play, and then to bake with her. No response at all even after a series of cheeky texts designed to make her smile. I know I couldn’t actually see if she smiled or not. But the thought of her smiling was reason enough.