Page 26 of Passion

We loaded my car up and had everything ready, but instead of calling one of the guys to drive for me, I opted to drive her there myself. It felt like I was cheating her by using my hired driver to “help” her move. It had been a long time since I drove a car, but she was worth it. I headed across town to the address she punched into my GPS unit.

The farther we got from my place, the rougher the neighborhoods got until we were smack dab in the middle of one of the toughest places in South Beach. She was right. There was a metro entrance right next to her building, a parking garage to boot, but the entrance was covered in graffiti and the garage was abandoned.

I didn’t make a peep as I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Bars covered every window, which made me very uneasy. I saw what she meant by “extra security” because nothing about this place looked secure. “You’re sure this is the place?” I asked her, craning my neck out the window of my parked car to see the high-rise.

“Yep,” she bubbled, “home sweet home.” She was out of the car, snatching up items to carry before I could protest. My body protested, though. Just the sight of the building made me want to run, but I had to give her the benefit of the doubt. I followed her, two boxes in hand, past the elevator to the stairwell where we had to climb two flights by foot rather than the invention created to help alleviate this issue.

“Elevator?”

“Out. Just means more exercise.” She winked at me as she led me upward. She walked right past the seemingly homeless man lying on the first landing with a syringe on the floor next to him. I wondered whether he was sleeping or dead.

“Vera, I?—”

“Here’s my floor!” She burst through the door and held it for me with her foot. I walked through and followed her farther down the hall. She unlocked a door and walked in, and the instant I saw the interior of this place, I cringed. “Isn’t it great?” she asked with enthusiasm.

“Uh…” I set the boxes on the floor and noticed the wires dangling in the center of the room. “Studio?” I looked around for a bedroom door, but there was only one door, which I assumed was the toilet.

“Yes, I have to buy a Murphy bed or a pull-out sofa. No big deal. I can find one.” She set her things down on the ground and dusted her hands. “We should get the rest.” She was out the door before I could say a word, and I had to follow her.

We carried the rest of the things we’d brought up to the apartment, and when the last item was in place, I finally had the chance to share my concerns. “Vera, this place is… interesting.”

She met my gaze and her smile faded a bit. “It’s mine, though, and I am on my own. I don’t have to use up your money or eat your food. You know?” She turned away from me, though I saw her disappointment with my reaction.

“I never thought you were using my money or eating my food. You were a most welcome guest in my home. I didn’t even want you to leave. I liked you there.”

Vera opened a box and stood staring into it. Her posture revealed that she felt hurt or sad. I hated myself for letting her feel that way, but my concern now was less about her leaving me and more about her safety.

“Okay, look. I really care about you, and I think there is a way I can feel better about all of this.”

She turned to look at me as I continued.

“First of all, promise me that you will still come for dinner, go out with me, try to see what this thing is that we have going?”

She nodded. “Of course. I never thought of telling you I didn’t want to see you anymore.”

I felt relief when she said that, but I had to give her my second condition. “And second, you have to let me lean on the landlord.” I pointed up at the exposed wires. “This isn’t safe. And that plaster could have asbestos in it. It needs to be checked. This isn’t okay.”

She sighed but nodded her agreement. “Fine.”

I took her by the arms and made her look at me. “Then promise me you’ll come for dinner tomorrow night.”

“I will.”

I kissed her forehead and we said our goodbyes, but my first stop would be the management office. They had some work to do or I was going to call the city to have this place condemned.

21

VERA

Itried. I really tried, but the overwhelming nausea had me back at that toilet seven times in less than an hour. I’d hidden just how ill I felt from Lucas because I knew if he knew I felt this way, he’d never have left me alone. I didn’t want him to worry, but even more than that, I wanted my privacy. This, however, was miserable and I no longer wanted to be alone. Mom was too far away, and Lucas would just demand I return to his house, so Midge was my only option.

I had no furniture yet, the movers having been delayed. So, I took a blanket out of one of my boxes that Lucas had brought for me and spread it out on the ground, using the duffel bag as a pillow so I could lie down. I dialed Midge’s number and it rang through to voicemail. I left a message for her to call me, but the urge to vomit again hit, so I raced to the porcelain goddess and prayed this sickness—whatever it was—would pass so I could just unpack and settle in.

While I was dry heaving, my phone—lying on the blanket where I’d just been—rang. Of course, I missed the call because my body hated that damn lemonade. I no more than finished dry heaving and stood than it came back. I had nothing left to throw up buy the stomach cramps continued for several minutes. When I finally felt better and I lay back down, I called Midge again, this time getting an answer immediately.

“Girl, what’s going on?” It sounded like she was chewing, which threatened my gag reflex given my current state, so I snapped at her.

“Please, stop eating.” I gagged, pulling the phone away from my mouth and trying to calm myself. When I regained my composure, I was pleased to hear no more chewing sounds through the receiver. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sick. I don’t want to be alone. Can you come over and help me unpack?”

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