Page 19 of Silver Linings
I shoot off the text, put my phone away, and get back to work, vowing to put Hendrix out of my mind for the rest of the day, just like I would with anyone else.
“Yes, Nan, I know what pickleball is.”
I’ve just left the shop, walking towards the East Village to meet Kena and Julien for a drink at this bar they walked past last weekend. They like to find random and obscure places to visit, and I like to join them because Julien usually foots the bill. That might make me a mooch, but I just bought a fucking store, so I feel like it’s at least a bit more acceptable now.
“Not a single pickle involved. It’s absolute bullshit,” she huffs dramatically.
“Nan, it’s followed by the wordball. What did you think you were getting into?”
“Hell if I know. I thought there would be food involved, or that maybe it was a double entendre, if you know what I mean.” I absolutely know what she means. “But no, I show up, and everyone’s batting aroundholeyballs with ping pong paddles, nary a pickle in sight! Absolutely absurd. Just play tennis, for fuck’s sake!” She shouts so loudly, I have to pull my phone away from my ear.
“Quite the passionate reaction, Nan,” I battle a laugh.
“I’m sorry, I’m hangry. I didn’t eat lunch because I thought there would be food, and I’m on my way to meet Babs for dinner at Chilis. Did you call for something specific, or just to chat?”
“I’m calling to share some news with you.” Despite us being close, I still haven’t told her about the store. I’ve been telling myself it was because I wanted to wait until everything was finalized, but really, I was nervous she would tell me it was a bad idea, that I shouldn’t put all my eggs in one basket. Spending my entire savings on one endeavor definitely falls under that category.
“Spill it, Bear.”Bear. Nan gave me that nickname when I first started living with her. She said I kept everything warm because I always wanted to cuddle like I was hibernating. But eventually, that stopped. The incident was a lot for an eight year old to take in, but after some time, I was able to understand what happened, the reason why I was living with her now. That’s when the cuddles stopped. The nickname stayed, though, and so did Nan.
“Shit. I’m just going to rip the Band-Aid off. Pat was gonna sell Brownstone Books, so she and I worked out a deal, and I bought it with Dad’s life insurance money.” All the breath whooshes out of me.
“Oh, thank fuck!” That’s not the reaction I was expecting. “I thought you were going to tell me you were pregnant or dying.”
“I see we’re back to being dramatic.”
“It’s calledPICKLEBALL. I think the dramatics are warranted.”
“That’s all you have to say, though? No foreboding warnings? No sage words of wisdom?”
“Yes, actually,” she says, taking on a solemn tone. “I don’t care if you shake your ass on OnlyFans to make money. So long as you keep up the apartment’s annual fees, I’m happy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind as a backup,” I chuckle. “I guess I worried about telling you for nothing.”
“Silver, I trust your judgment to decide what’s right for your life unequivocally. If buying the store is what’s right for you and your needs, then I’m proud of you.”
Shit. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I settle for a simple, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Bear. We’ll work out who’s going where for the holidays soon, but I just got to Chilis, and the triple dipper is calling my name. I love you.”
“I love you too.” There was a time I wouldn’t say those words. I still find it impossible to say to anyone besides Nan and Kena.
We hang up, and I round the corner onto the block the bar is on. The call with Nan distracted me enough on my walk that I hardly even noticed I had already gotten to the East Village, very nearly at my destination.
I double check that I’m on the right side of the street and walk just a little further until I see the iron and wood blade sign sitting above the door, reading The Blackbird.
I pull open the door and immediately have to squint in the dim lighting. I look around for a nano second before I see Kena and Julien sitting at a corner table towards the front of the bar. I walk over and give them both a hug before setting my bag on the empty seat.
“I’m gonna go grab a drink. Do either of you need a refill while I’m over there?”
“I’ll take another Cab Sav,” Julien says. I look to Kena to see if he wants anything, but he just shakes his head no. I reach in my bag to grab my wallet, but Julien stops me with his hand, “Don’t be silly. I already have a tab open.”
I smile sweetly. “If you insist, Daddy Warbucks.”
Kena nearly spits out his drink. “Only I call him Daddy,” he says, giving Julien a heated look.
I leave them to their glances and head over to the bar, where a taller man with a husky build is chatting up a girl sitting on a barstool. When he notices me waiting, he walks over with a massive, infectious smile on his face.
