Page 87 of Smoke and Fire
She smiled with warmth. “I think she’s w-wonderful. I think you like her and you’re scared out of your m-m-mind about it. You’ve always t-t-tried to d-do things all on your own. D-don’t push her away.”
“I like her.”
“I can tell.”
I spread my hands. “What do I do? I don’t know how to approach this. I get all up in my head.” I threw my hands in the air, then leaned back and closed my eyes. “My life is too crazy to bring someone else into it. I’m taking care of too many people. I’m . . .”
“D-desperate for help but unwilling to t-take it?”
“Maybe,” I mumbled.
“Lonely and sad b-but don’t trust any w-woman with your heart?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
The quick admission pained me, but her honesty finally hit a truth that neededto be thumped a bit. Dad had always been proud of my self-sufficiency, but maybe I’d taken it a bit too far.
She smiled warmly at me. “Time for ch-change, Bash.”
“Thanks, Dagny.”
She reached across the table again, and squeezed my hand. “You’ll f-f-figure this out, B-bash. We’re always here f-for you when you need us.”
“Thanks.”
A clanking sound followed a muttered curse. Hernandez appeared through the back door a minute later with a foul expression that almost made me laugh. His gaze dropped to Dagny’s hand on mine.
“You cutting in on my girl, amigo?” he drawled.
I leaned back. “If you’re not home, might as well.”
He laughed, smacked a fat kiss on Dagny’s lips. I stretched, shocked to find we’d been talking for hours. I felt bleary-eyed tired. My body needed more sleep than this on my day off, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel too upset about it.
“Thanks again for dinner, Dagny.” I stacked my bowl, spoon, and cup in the sink after rinsing them. “Delicious, as always.”
I could feel Hernandez studying me. Through the reflection in the window over the sink, I saw him give Dagny a questioning look. She shook it off.
“Ab-b-buelahas been t-teaching me her ways.” She winked at Hernandez. “One day, I’ll get that t-t-tamale recipe.”
THE NEXT DAYpassed in a blur.
I visited Inessa, her doctor, and the hospice team that would start to check in on her. Her skin appeared a bit more gray and she seemed tired after a restless night’s sleep. She laid with her head on her pillow, a favorite fairytale movie playing in the background. The sight gave me a throwback to my childhood, when she’d calm with the cartoons that we’d watch together for hours while eating popcorn.
“Could be months,” the hospice nurse said with kindness and warmth. He was a middle-aged man named Gregor with a salt-and-pepper goatee and a slightly slavic accent in his voice. “Her body will decide when to go. We’ll keep watching. She’ll be comfortable when she passes, whenever that is.”
The uncertainty didn’t sit well with me, but Inessa had always kept me guessing. I’d had years to grapple with her shortened lifespan, but as it approached, I felt even more at a loss for what to do with it.
What sort of world would I have without Inessa in it?
A bleak one.
One with noone.
Dahlia rose to my mind then, but I pushed her back. No, I didn’t have that claim on her. My world was so . . . sad. Dagny’s conversation hovered in my mind for half the day while I battled myself.
Let Dahlia in?
Spare her the pain and keep her out?
