The 'Burg: Hold On Part 22

He just drove away.

I sat with my cell in my hand at my kitchen table.

I had a mug of coffee on the table in front of me.

Coffee Merry had made me. Coffee he'd made me, wanting me to sleep in on my day off and then get to take it easy.

My mind was at war.

All the ugly things I'd said to Merry that morning that he didn't deserve tormented me. I should have calmly explained how I felt about mornings with my kid. It should have leaked in that I was talking to Merry and he would cut off his own arm rather than give any impression to my son that I was less than Ethan thought me to be.

This and a lot of other things that had happened and had been said the last five days, not to mention the strong urging of my heart, made me want to engage my texts and send him the two short words that would tell him what I was feeling and give him what he deserved.

I'm sorry.

Another part of me-the dark, ugly part that kept me locked inside the cold, airless sh.e.l.l I'd created-thought this was good. It was over. It might all be over, everything Merry and I had, including our friends.h.i.+p, but that was okay.

I was safe from him and he was safe from me.

And I'd listened to my heart twice in my life.

I knew better.

Right then, it didn't feel that way.

Right then, it felt like if I didn't act immediately to fix the damage I'd inflicted on Merry and me that morning, I'd be making the biggest mistake of my life.

I lifted the coffee and sipped it.

It was very strong.

But it was good coffee.

Then I engaged my phone, my thumb moving over it.

I went to who I needed to go to and typed in a text to my mom.

Don't know if you heard. They got him. It's all good.

I hit send, took another sip of coffee, and stared out the window, my mind filled with Merry's low, deep, beautiful but hollow voice.

My phone sounded and I looked down at it.

That's good, sugar. And Garrett?

I pretended I didn't know what Mom was asking and sent, He's fine. Everyone's fine. Marty Fink tackled the guy behind Dairy Queen.

Within seconds, she returned, Good to hear, Cher. But what your mother wants to know is why he was holding your hand last night or just why he was with my baby girl.

I hated doing it, but I didn't want my mom to know just how incredibly stupid I was. She knew I could be stupid because I'd handed her a lot of stupid for twenty-five years before I started to get smart. She was now living in a world where her daughter was a little less stupid. She didn't need to think I was sliding back.

So I lied.

He was just tweaked, I sent. Then added, He happened to be at the bar when he got the call. Worried that the dude was at large in our neighborhood. You know he's a good guy, Mom.

I know that. I'm glad he's OK, she returned, and in her first three words, even through a text, I actually felt her disappointment that a good guy like Merry wasn't holding her daughter's hand in the way she hoped he would.

Then again, he was.

And I'd f.u.c.ked it up.

s.h.i.+t.

Two words. I knew Merry would accept them. Easy to type them out.

I'm sorry.

I turned my attention back to my phone, hit what I had to hit, and put it to my ear.

It rang three times before Vi answered, "Hey, babe."

"You got lunch plans today?" I asked.

"I do now," she answered. "Frank's? The Station? Feelin' like Chinese?"

"My pad," I told her.

"Cool," she replied. "What time?"

"Noon good for you?"

"Yeah. And hey," she went on, "Bobbie's got mums on sale for half off and I got my tradesman discount. You want some for your outside pots?"

"That'd be good. The usual. Purple and white."

"Hmm...not sure she has white. But she has cream."

"That'll work."

"Right. See you at noon."

"Yeah."

There was a pause before she asked, "Hey, you okay?"

"Not even close."

"Oh s.h.i.+t," she whispered, then asked tentatively, "Merry?"

"Just come at noon, Vi."

"I'll be there, honey."

"Later."

"'Bye."

I hit the screen to disconnect and tossed my phone on the table. I grabbed my cup of coffee, took a sip, put it to the table, and looked unseeing out the window.

I did this a long time, eyes dry.

When I finally snapped myself out of it, I realized I had just enough time to shower, slap on my makeup, do my hair, and get to the grocery store so I could make Vi a decent meal that didn't involve microwave popcorn, chocolate, or Funyuns.

But before I headed out of the kitchen, I turned off the oven, grabbed a potholder, and pulled out the plate of waffles.

They looked amazing.

I wanted to freeze them and keep them forever.

I threw them in the trash.

Violet Callahan sat across my kitchen table from me, silent. The sandwich of shredded, fake crabmeat, mayo, and avocado that sat next to a stack of Pringles on a plate in front of her was untouched.

Cal, her husband, had their kids, Angela and Sam.

Cal was a bona fide bada.s.s of the scary variety, regardless of how much he loved his woman, his kids, and her daughters from her first marriage to a man who, sadly, was murdered, or how easily he showed all that. He still was scary in a way that Ryker, who looked like the maniac he only partially was, couldn't be.

There was no way to explain it. If you met Cal, you knew that was just his way.

Which made it sweet as all get-out that he took their two very young children pretty much everywhere he went. They even had playpens and cribs at his office. It was crazy.

Then again, his first wife was a strung out junkie who didn't pay attention, and thus, his baby boy had drowned in a bathtub. So it wasn't that surprising he kept his kids close.

See? Life sucked. For everybody.

It was just that for some, they made their way to happy.

That just wasn't for me.

"Vi," I prompted when she didn't say anything. She'd barely moved, hadn't taken a bite, even though I'd been blathering for the last twenty minutes about all that had been going down with me.

Except for Ryker's warning about my neighbors, I didn't leave anything out.

"Vi," I snapped when she still didn't say anything.

"Quiet," she returned. "I'm trying to stop myself from slapping you upside your head."

Loved my girl.

Feb was my big sister and I loved her too. But Vi was my bestie, the best one I'd ever had, and I'd knock your teeth out if you said she wasn't the best friend there could be.

Even so, not real big on her telling me she wanted to slap me upside my head.

I narrowed my eyes. "Uh...what?"

"G.o.d, Cher!" she cried angrily, then leaned in to the table my way. "Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"It isn't your problem."

She leaned back, glaring and speaking. "Yeah. That's the part that makes me want to slap you upside your head."

"I'm tellin' you now," I pointed out.

"You know," she started conversationally, then hit me with her best shot, and it was a doozy. "It doesn't feel real good when I got a BFF who'd race to my side at the drop of a hat if she got even the inkling that I need her-and I know this because she's done that- and she doesn't let me do the same for her. Of anyone, Cher, in all the s.h.i.+t that's gone down in this 'burg with people who mean something to you, you know, bein' a mom, you freakin' know it's no hards.h.i.+p when you're called on to look after somebody. It's an honor. I cannot imagine why you'd take that privilege from me."

I sat back in my chair like she'd slapped me.

"And yeah," she went on, "everyone's talkin' about you and Merry. Everyone. But we're not all sittin' around gabbin' about how Cher's caught herself up with a man who's in love with another woman or how Merry picked the one woman in the 'burg who he's gotta handle with care and no one knows if he's got that in him. We're worried. About both of you."

Before I could race out and buy a cat o' nine tails which I could use during my five-hour-long session of self-flagellation, she kept going.

"But Merry was right. You should tell Ethan about that c.r.a.p his dad and stepmom are pulling. You should tell your mom. You should tell everybody. I can't believe you haven't done that already. He needs looked after and he's your kid. In anything, it's all hands on deck. This crazy lady thinks she can be a better mom and has got no problem taking your boy away from you all the way down to Missouri, that b.i.t.c.h needs to think again. Bottom line, Cher, any woman who thinks that way about another woman's kid is sketchy. I wouldn't let Ethan anywhere near her."

"Right," I whispered, though I'd come to that same conclusion myself already.

"And if her husband doesn't have the b.a.l.l.s to set her right, he shouldn't get anywhere near Ethan either."

I pressed my lips together.

"As for Merry, you f.u.c.ked up this morning, big time."

I looked out the window, my eyes so dry they hurt. "Yeah I did."

"And I hate to say this, because I want good things for you any way you can get them, but that might not be bad."

The change in her tone, her voice quieting, made me look back to her.

She put her hand on the table and slid it a couple of inches toward me.

"He never got over her," she said softly.

"I know," I replied.

"It's too soon after her getting engaged. Merry should have known better."