Page 5 of Adrift

“He also increased your osteoporosis meds, which means that is getting worse, too.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling guilty for the thousandth time for asking my aging mother to take care of my one-year-old when she should be out touring the world with my dad like they always planned for their retirement.

Mom makes a shushing sound. “Don’t be so dramatic. So what if he increased the meds? I’ll take what he tells me to, and we can all move forward.”

“What about the strength training and physical therapy he told you to do? How can you focus on yourself when you’re with Arman all day? Plus, he’s trying to walk. He’s just going to get more active day by day. You can’t be chasing after him.”

“Tsavet tanem, Darian jan,” Mom pleads in Armenian. “Let me carry some of your burden. You already have a lot on your plate. If and when I can’t handle it, I will tell you.”

While my mother is of Armenian descent, she grew up in various parts of the world, including Iran, where she picked up the Persian language as well. Which is the reason she gave me a Persian name.

“You’ve already helped me so much over this year.” I look at my watch, noticing it’s time to join the new kayakers outside. Our regular safety patrol called in sick this morning, so I’m subbing for him today. Just the thought of pushing off the mountain of paperwork and payroll changes for even another few hours is giving me heartburn, but I’m short on staff this week. “Listen, Mom. Let’s talk about this tonight when I get home. I think we need to figure out long-term–”

“Darian–”

“Mom,” I cut her off, knowing she’s gearing up to argue with me again, but this isn’t a conversation we can have when I’m already running late. She’s just as protective of Arman as I am, so I know telling her I’m thinking about getting a full-time nanny for him won’t go over well. “I need to get out to the river for a class. Let’s talk tonight.”

I hang up the phone before glancing at our company website once more. Jesus. What a fucking mess. The pictures and blog are all so outdated, you’d think we haven’t had a thriving business in years. And hell if I have any time to do marketing or run ads on top of running the company. These were all things Sonia used to manage.

Leaving my office, I head toward the small group standing with Felix when Olivia calls me over. “Hey, King, got a sec? Just need you to sign off on the new ski gear before I place the order. Some of this stuff is priced well right now, so I figured I’d get us stocked up before winter.”

Turning toward the reception desk, I hold in my internal groan as I move to meet her. Olivia and her husband Greg have been instructors at my school since Sonia and I opened it six years ago. Whenever they’re not booked doing private lessons, they both help manage the reception desk and gear rentals.

And while I absolutely love Olivia–the woman would give her right lung to help me out in a pinch–she tends to be a bit of an overtalker. All joking aside, she can easily fill up hours upon hours with a damn-near-monologue. So, I always cringe whenever I get curtailed by her, especially when I’m already on a tight schedule.

“Hey, sure. What do you have?” I ask, giving her a curt smile before reviewing the order list she has printed out for me.

“Well, some of our snow goggles are scratched up, and some of the bibs really should be replaced since they have holes in them.” She takes a breath before shoving her index finger on a line item. “And if you look here, I added some new helmets, too. I mean, we can always use new helmets, so I figure–”

“Yeah, I’m fine with it,” I cut her off, turning the paper over to note the final price.

“There he is!” I hear Felix behind me. “Hey, King, do you mind raising your hand so these lovely folks know who you are?”

I give a quick wave to the group of six or seven students behind me before turning back to the list, examining it once more. “Hey, listen, I told my mom to call the front desk in case she can’t reach me while I’m out–”

“Oh, it’s no problem! I completely understand. I’ll be here if she calls. By the way, how is she doing? Greg told me she fell the other day. Is she alright? Will she be able to take care of Arman?”

Christ. I wonder if she even breathes when she’s talking. “Yeah, I’m trying to figure all of that out.”

“Well, you know . . ..” Olivia gets a glimmer in her eyes before her eyebrows rise. You’d almost think she was happy with my fucking plight of potentially not having childcare for my kid. “My sister, Violet, would be more than happy to help you out. She even has a degree in child development–”

“Uh–” I look behind me to see that the class has already left to go to the kayaks. I scratch the back of my neck, even though it isn’t itching, hoping for an escape hatch to open up below my feet.

“King . . .. Darian, hear me out real quick. I know things didn’t go as planned on the date I set you two up on last month. Maybe the timing was off, maybe it was too early for you.” She looks down at the desk, disconnecting eye contact with me. “But Violet is a real sweetheart. I think she might have just been nervous that day. She really likes you.”

Nervous? I would hardly call groping my dick uninvited as a sign of nerves. Most people would consider that shit sexual harassment or a sign of overconfidence or I don’t know . . . not reading the fucking room right!

After weeks of Olivia begging me to go on a date with her sister, I caved. Olivia and Greg had stepped up and had taken on way more than their share for me here at the school after Sonia died. I even took an extended paternity leave just to get Mom situated with the baby before we got into a regular schedule with Arman.

I’d been buried in work and diapers over the past year without a fucking day off, and the last thing on my mind was starting a relationship or even getting in a casual fuck. I had no room for it, no energy left. With lack of sleep mixed with the constant ache in the cavernous hole where my fucking heart used to be, I basically did things on autopilot. Wake up, work, relieve Mom of her duties with Arman in the evenings, take care of him through the night, then wake up in the morning to do it all over again.

Rinse and fucking repeat.

Olivia caught me on a particularly shitty day where I wasn’t sure which side was up or down. Somehow–probably with her talking a mile a minute and not giving me a chance to think–she convinced me to take an evening off to get out of my ‘rut.’ She took care of Arman that evening and set me up on a date with her sister.

The woman didn’t fucking speak. It was as if the disease of verbal diarrhea had only affected one sister–and it wasn’t Violet. Where Olivia couldn’t shut the fuck up if her life depended on it, Violet was practically mute. Maybe she was forced into silence early on in life because her sister never gave her a chance to speak? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway, because the date ended as soon as dinner finished.

Or so I thought . . ..

I’d just pulled into Violet’s driveway to drop her off when she unbuckled her seatbelt and practically leapt for my dick. I swear, I’ve never been so fucking scared in my whole life.

---