Page 16 of Nothing Less than Magic
I prop my laptop on my knees and fire off another message to Ronnie. It isn’t like her to forget or ignore me. She’s usually on top of everything. In fact, she’s so good at her job that she often knows what I’m going to say before I even think it. I hope she’s not sick or having personal problems. A few weeks ago, she was complaining about her roommate, who was always late paying her share of the bills, which, unfortunately, are all in Ronnie’s name.
I can hear Knox on the roof. And here I am, still in bed. There’s coffee. I can smell it wafting under my bedroom door from the kitchen.
My phone lights up, and a second later, it rings. Austin. I let it go to voicemail. He’s called a couple of times. I presume he found out about my incident with the cable car and is checking to see if I’m okay. It’s kind of him, but I wish he would go away and leave me alone.
I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. Those Fool’s Golds last night did a number on my head. It was probably the mezcal.
There’s still a half pot of coffee left when I make it into the kitchen, and I don’t waste any time mainlining a cup. It’s good stuff. Any trace of yesterday’s rain is gone, only blue skies. The leaves on the trees keep changing color. From here to the lake, it’s a sea of orange and yellow.
Knox comes in, nods his head at me in greeting, and refills his thermos. The man seems to live on coffee.
“I saw your sister last night.”
“Yeah, she told me.”
“She thinks you’re procrastinating and won’t make your book deadline.”
“Katie talks too much. She should spend more time worrying about her own life, which is a trainwreck, if you ask me.”
“How’s that?” You can never really know a person after only talking with them for a few hours—or in Austin’s case, a multitude of years—but Katie seems to have her head on straighter than most.
“She spent six years getting an advanced degree in urban planning and works tending bar.”
“Oh, you mean like a biophysicist who fixes roofs?”
He shoots me a look. “Did I mention I’m on the faculty at UC Davis? Roofing is just something I do in my spare time.”
I don’t bother to point out that he doesn’t have spare time, that what he has is a book deadline.
“And why is it, in your opinion, that Katie doesn’t want to work in her chosen field?” As soon as the question leaves my mouth, I regret it. First, it’s none of my business. And second, I sound like a douchie therapist.
And why is it, in your opinion, that Katie doesn’t want to work in her chosen field? Who talks like that?
“Because she likes wasting her life serving people drinks.”
“That sounds like a judgment call on your part. Perhaps Katie doesn’t think bartending is a waste.” I can’t seem to help myself.
“Yeah? Then she should stop asking me to float her so she can make her rent.”
“Have you had that conversation with her?” Here I go again.
“About a million times. Look, if she doesn’t want to be an urban planner, that’s fine. But she needs to find a vocation and stop pretending she’s still in college.”
He has a point there. “Then you have to set boundaries. No bailing her out when she can’t make her rent.”
He warms his hands on the thermos and holds my gaze. “I’m working on it. But it’s hard. I don’t want my baby sister living on the street.”
My heart melts, even though I try to stay neutral with patients. But Knox is not my patient, and I’m supposedly off duty, so to speak. I’m allowed to just feel. And today, all the feels are swishing together. Regret over the fission between Lolly and me. And the sweetness of Knox’s love for his sister.
I must be wearing my heart in my eyes, because Knox looks away right before his cheeks turn pink.
“Break’s over,” he says on his way to the door.
A few minutes later, I hear him up on the roof again. I make myself a couple of eggs and some toast and wash it down with the rest of the coffee. As I’m sitting at the breakfast table, my phone pings with a text. Hoping it’s Ronnie, I reach for it, only to see that it’s from Austin.
“I’ve desperately been trying to reach you. Please call me.”
I debate whether to respond or ignore his message. There’s no time like the present to cut the cord with him, I tell myself. It’s not like we have children that require us to stay in communication with each other. The only thing we still share is this cabin and all its expenses. For that, I can easily send him a bill without having to talk to him. It’s healthier that way.
