Page 17 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
“Well, you did almost die in my office.”
I point to a cup of water beside her, and she holds it up to my lips. She smells like lilacs. I’ve never especially cared for floral scents—they typically make me sneeze, and I find them to be incredibly overpowering—but I like this on her.
After a long sip through a straw, I pull away, and she sets the cup down.
“Why would I sue you? That pushy old woman is the one who shoved poison into my mouth.”
Lottie’s expression shifts to one I haven’t learned yet, and its annoying as fuck. I’ve managed fourteen years of adulthood just fine hiring other people to figure this shit out, but because I want the best for my little sister, now I’m going through hell.
It doesn’t seem fair. My father should be the only one experiencing discomfort.
“You can’t sue Mrs. Perez, Thane. She’s seventy-seven years old and practically a town treasure.” There she goes with another tone I don’t understand. This was so much easier when I didn’t have to focus on this shit—when all words sounded the same, and as long as they weren’t too loud, I could simply pick out the useful information.
Rafe calls it my unfortunate party trick learned from childhood trauma, but what the hell does he know? He plays with toys all day.
“I won’t sue her.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Why are you using an app to read faces and understand tones?”
“I don’t understand your question.” I loathe unnecessary questions, even from her, and this is self-explanatory.
“I assumed that’s the type of stuff you learn before you’re even old enough to understand that you’re learning from the world around you.”
“Does it appear to you that I have those skills?”
She shrugs. “Honestly, I just thought you were rude when I first met you.”
That doesn’t sit right with me, which is unusual. I don’t generally care what anyone thinks of me.
“I’m not rude.”
“Then what are you?”
“According to Rafe, he believes I experience the worlddifferentlythan others—whatever that means. Another doctor said I have a sensory disorder, and yet another said I was just fucking lazy—his words, not mine. But luckily for me, they all agree that having a traumatic childhood and growing up with computers for companions didn’t help my situation. I haven’t needed any of these skills until Kara.”
Or you.
The volcano in my chest burns. Where are my antacids, Siri?
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Kara doesn’t end up like my father.” Or me.
“So…you don’t experience the world in the same way that I do? How is it different?”
Where is my damn phone? The urgency with which I want to understand this woman is making my heart rate monitor beep excessively.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been you.”
“Right. Not rude. But…”
I want to know how she planned to finish that sentence, but we’re interrupted by Rafe and Kara.
My chest burns again. Maybe they tore up my entire chest cavity when they pumped my stomach.
“You’re awake.” Why does Rafe always have to state the obvious?
“We were just talking…about…” Lottie doesn’t finish this sentence either.
“How you’ve all decided that I’m different.” I scan Rafe’s hands, then Kara’s, hoping one of them is carrying an Amazon package full of antacids, but they’re both empty-handed.
