Knitted Hearts - Amber Kelly Page 0,27
around here? News flash: it doesn’t. Especially when I had a twelve-hundred-dollar garage bill dropped in my lap yesterday,” she snaps.
“Then, get a better job. I’ll keep paying the mortgage until the divorce is final, and then I’ll sign the house over to you, free and clear. You can sell it or whatever, but that’s it. Then, I’m done. You’re going to have to learn how to stand on your own two feet,” I tell her.
“Yeah, well, thank you, but that’s not enough. What am I supposed to do, Foster? Starve?” she asks.
“Stop being dramatic. You’re not going to starve. Your car is paid for, and you’re still on my insurance till the end of the year. All you have to cover are utilities and food.”
She huffs. “Sure, bread and water—that’s all a girl needs, right?”
“How long are you going to punish me for not being who you wanted me to be?” I ask.
“Until I feel like you’ve paid for tricking me. I wasted the best years of my life on this marriage, and this is where I end up? Starting over now was not a part of the plan, Foster.”
I sigh.
“What do you want from me? Huh? You want me to move back in—again—just for one of us to leave in six months? We aren’t in love anymore. I don’t know if we ever were. Aren’t you as done with this as I am?” I ask.
“Yes,” she admits.
“Look, starting over wasn’t part of my plan either. But this is where we are. We can either make it hard on each other or we can get along. The choice is yours,” I insist.
Tears start streaming down her face. I haven’t got a clue if they are sad or angry tears. She can do both.
She swipes at her eyes and looks down at the steps. Embarrassed.
Sad tears.
“Give me the bill from Jackie’s,” I say.
She looks up at me. “What?”
“I’ll take care of that for you, but it’s the last time I’m doing it. You’ve got to start taking care of yourself,” I tell her.
“I’m trying,” she insists. “It’s like I’m constantly fighting some demons.”
“You’re not fighting demons. You’re fighting accountability,” I tell her. “And stop being so fucking spiteful,” I add.
She looks away. “Fine. I’m sorry.”
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love a cup of coffee while you find that paperwork,” I say as I walk past her and into the house.
“You know where it is,” she calls after me.
Sonia
“Edith, are you ready?” I bellow as I enter the door to Walker’s mom’s home.
“Yes, dear. I’ll be out in a minute,” she calls from the back bedroom.
I make my way in and check the cabinet beside the refrigerator. All of her medications are stored there, and I set to filling her weekly pill dispenser so that she doesn’t have to try to read each bottle and figure out her dosage.
When she joins me, she is as pretty as a picture in a light-blue dress and navy shawl.
“Well, don’t you look stunning this morning!” I praise as she sits at the table.
She offers me her hand to prick her finger and check her blood sugar level before I load a syringe and administer her daily insulin dose.
“Your sugar level is so good. I’m very proud of you,” I tell her as I remove my gloves and dispose of the needle.
“I feel good. I’ve had an extra spring in my step all week,” she informs me.
“Do you need a ride to church?” I ask.
I’m never sure if she wants to go or not. Each week is different, depending on how she feels, but judging by her state of dress, I assume today is a church day.
“No, thank you, dear. Mr. Reynolds asked to escort me to services today, and then we are going to have a picnic in the park. I made potato salad,” she says.
Mr. Reynolds is one of her neighbors, and the two have been spending more and more time together. I have a suspicion that he is responsible for that spring in her step.
“That sounds nice,” I encourage.
“Doesn’t it?” She beams.
“I’ll just come back and check on you in the morning, then. You can tell me all about your hot date over coffee.”
I pat her hand and give her a wink, and a slight blush tinges her cheeks.
“And you’ll tell me all about your hot date last night,” she replies.
Edith is the one and only person I told that I was having dinner with Foster last night. I was bursting