Page 7 of His Reward
Mom: The next time you see that woman, tell her I don’t need her hellos, I need her to pay me back the three hundred dollars she owes me.
Daphne’s reply is a skull and laugh emoji.The most recent text is from Mom, received ten minutes ago.
Mom: Baby, I can’t make it to your party.There’s been a serious accident.It’s all hands on deck.I’m sorry.
I lift my gaze to my sister’s face.The corners of her mouth are turned down and her eyes sparkle with unshed tears.I rub her arm.
“Oh, Daph.That sucks she can’t come.”
“She promised she would be here.”Hurt laces her voice.She folds her arms tight and looks down, blinking rapidly.
I pull her into a hug and rub her back.“I’m sure she really wanted to keep her promise, but Mom has always said schedules are only suggestions at a hospital.It’s usually unpredictable.”
“Don’t make excuses for her!”Daphne pulls away from the hug, wiping carefully at her eyes so she doesn’t ruin her makeup.“She’s always doing this!Missing out on important stuff, putting her job before us.Youknow that firsthand.”
I hate it whenever my family mentions the fire, even in casual ways.Therapy has helped soothe the intense guilt and shame, but those feelings never went away.It’s unfair of me to stop them from talking about it, though.The incident affected them too.
“I’m not making excuses for her, Daph.I’m trying to help you not take her decision personally.Her absence will only hurt more if you do.”I rub her arm.“She’s not choosing her job over you.She loves you.It’s just… lots of people are depending on her right now, OK?The ones who were in that accident and their loved ones who are afraid of losing them.I’m sure she’d much rather be here, having fun, than carrying that responsibility on her shoulders.”
Daphne’s unhappy expression persists, in contrast to the upbeat song blasting through the room and laughter from the other party guests.Eventually, the tension in her body eases.Her hurt dissolves into a sullen pout.
“Thanks.I feel like an asshole now.”
I smile.“At least you don’t smell like one.Does that make you feel better?”
She lets out a snort.“It does.”
We share a laugh, then she pulls me into a hug.She squeezes me tight and thanks me for being a good big sister.That’s funny because she’smybig sister, but I’ve played that role for her all our lives.
“Why does Auntie Erica owe Mom three hundred dollars?”I ask.
Daphne chuckles as she recounts the story.Auntie Erica wanted to start yet another new business by making artisanal soaps.She asked Mom for some seed money to buy supplies, but Mom discovered the money went toward a trip to the beauty salon.
We laugh as we reminisce over Auntie Erica’s other shady schemes over the years.A song with layered beats underscored by a guitar comes on.Jeremy saunters over, his dimpled smile directed at Daphne, and holds out his hand.
“Come, baby.Let’s dance.”
Daphne smiles, her eyes shining with love for her fiancé.She takes Jeremy’s hand and lets him guide her onto the dance floor among the other party guests.
I stare at the two of them, happy for them despite the ache in my chest.Will I ever experience that kind of love?Afraid of the grim answer and that someone might catch me with envy in my eyes, I look away from my sister and her husband-to-be.I accidentally meet Malcolm’s gaze.
My stomach makes a funny little rise and fall.Warmth courses up my neck to my face, and my spine straightens.
He’s standing by a wall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a bottled malt drink at his side.He’s delicious in his light grey suit.The jacket highlights his broad shoulders and frames his strong build.Wisps of chest hair are visible at the neck of his white shirt.
Deliciousisn’t the kind of word I should use to describe my dad’s best friend.Ever since I showed up yesterday, I’ve been unable to stop a primitive part of my brain from liking how Malcolm exudes masculinity.
It’s messing with my perception too.For instance, just before we left the house, there was—or Ithoughtthere was—this look in his eyes as he slid his gaze over me.My heart started to race.I felt like prey standing before a hunter, and that I shouldn’t be alone with him.
Obviously, I misunderstood that moment.There weren’t any weird vibes between us, and we chatted like normal on the drive to the party.Malcolm is the last person I should be afraid of.He’s the reason I’m still alive.
As if on cue, the song’s chorus hits, and the male singer croons about walking through fire for someone he adores.
Yes.
That’s what Malcolm did.
He walked through fire for me.
