Page 14 of I Knew You
It was true. As far apart as we were, he always sent me expensive things, like all-expense-paid vacations and one of those huge bookcases with the rolling ladder that took up my whole living room.
“He’s not even returned my last fifty calls.”
“I have a hard time believing you’ve called fifty times, and he’s never answered once.”
I grumbled. “Okay, fine, I called maybe twice. But I’m just saying he probably wouldn’t answer if I called right now.”
“Okay…then text him.”
I bit my lip as my back spasmed a little. “He has nothing to do with this. I won’t drag him into my issues.”
Kallie sighed.
“You two used to be super close?—”
“We were. But that relationship doesn’t exist without Grams. It doesn’t feel right to ask him for money. I wish I could explain it better, but it feels wrong.”
“He would give money to a stranger. He would help his sister. Hell, he might even rent you a private hospital. And a private doctor educated at whatever the best medical school is.You know he would, and it probably wouldn’t even dent his accounts.”
I bit my lip, wanting so badly to bite through it so I could focus on anything except the solution Kallie wouldn’t let go of. She continued, “Plus, if he pays for all this, you won’t have to worry about money for a bit, and there won’t be so much pressure to find a job. You can focus on your writing for a while, take a breather.”
I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see it. “I don’t want Whit to think he has to rescue me, much less have me not working and mooching off his success.”
She completely ignored my insistence. “That’s rather presumptuous of you. He may not think that way at all. Sounds like you might be assigning people feelings when you don’t know what they are thinking…”
“I don’t need a psychology lecture. ‘No’ is my final answer.”
I heard the distinct click of her nails on a keyboard. “Fine. I have to go. The kitchen is yelling at me.” Her voice softened. “I am here for you. We will figure this out together. Go home, take a hot shower, eat some leftover Chinese?—”
“Bold of you to assume there are leftovers,” I muttered. “But okay. I’m gonna go home and get in an Epsom salt bath.” I didn’t know if it was a placebo effect because of the news I’d just gotten, but my back spasm wasn’t letting up.
“Perfect. I’ll come over as soon as we close, and we will talk about everything. We’ll get through this together, Jules,” she replied, her voice full of concern.
The nickname Kallie used for me was the nickname Whit always used, and it made my chest ache.
“I’ll see you later. Love you.” I quickly ended the call before she could respond and before I lost control and cried.
I didn’t go straight home. Instead,I indulged in retail therapy. I didn’t have a job, but I had a credit card with a decent limit.
I walked through the nearest shopping complex and entered every store, whether I was interested or not. I bought makeup and clothes—for what, I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t been on a date in months and rarely went out for fun. But the complexities behind why I was doing what I was doing were too much to unpack. I didn’t think about facts. I let myself be numb. I didn’t want to believe or ruminate about Whit or my job loss, so I threw all of it out of my mind.
Except for my back. It was definitely not numb.
I was limping by the end of my shopping, but I rounded out my spree with a large cinnamon sugar pretzel and a healthy dose of regret, which I chased with an iced espresso. As I hauled all of my wares across the townhouse complex’s parking lot, the thoughts I’d pushed aside began to catch up with me, and the tears fell. I curled myself onto my couch with a blanket and fell asleep to get rid of the trouble that hung off me like lead weights.
That evening, Kallie found me clinging to my last shred of dignity, surrounded by new cartons of Chinese food on my living room coffee table.
“Oh, love,” she cooed as she waltzed into the house, still in her baking garb, her long blonde hair piled on her head again. She let her purse fall to the ground, and she walked toward me like a specter. I didn’t move to greet her.
I looked up at my best friend’s slim face full of worry and concern. A few tears welled up in my eyes, but I cut them off.
“I’m fine,” I countered, clearing my throat. “I’m braless and in sweats on my couch with Chinese food and wine coolers. How can life get any more comfortable than this?”
She chuckled and sat down beside me. She reached out and rubbed my back in loving strokes.
“I know it’s a shit thing to say to all this, but I’m so sorry.” Genuine sympathy reflected in her brown eyes.
I bit my lip and nodded. She grabbed some chopsticks and a carton of lo mein. I couldn’t think of anything worth saying, and I could tell she didn’t know what to say either. Neither of us could change my situation. Finally, she put down the noodles and fork rather forcefully. I looked over at her with a furrowed brow.
