What did Mr. Bobby say last night?
Big picture. I must look at the big picture.
CHAPTER FIVE
RIVER
Both Polly and Mr. Bobby have really made me think about my life choices. I mean, my brother’s a big boy now, all grown up and married. Apart from some student loans and a small mortgage—that I pay—he has his own home, a growing business, everything he could possibly need to live a successful and happy life.
So why am I still using him as an excuse to live the way I am?
If I’m honest with myself, I’ve been miserable for a while, telling myself I’m doing this for Ev, for his happiness because he’s my responsibility. But he’s not—not anymore—and I’m sure if he knew what has been going on, he wouldn’t want this for me either.
I love him with all my heart and soul, and I don’t think he relies on me as heavily as I’ve convinced myself he does.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed of what I do, I’m just… tired. Tired of pretending, tired of the lies, tired of never getting my own happily ever after.
“Hey there, sweet girl. You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Come and have some tea and tell me about your meeting.” He grabs his thermos and a spare cup that he always keeps on hand and pours me a drink. I swear he keeps that extra cup close by for moments like this.
It’s only midday, but after spending the morning at Polly’s place, a little afternoon drink isn’t the worst idea. I don’t exactly have plans for the rest of the afternoon thanks to Marco’s guy interfering with my appointments. Fucker.
“Thank you, Mr. Bobby.” Smiling, I approach the stoop and bend down for a much-needed hug. He gives the best hugs. They’re always short and sweet, but the aura around this man is calming and powerful all at once. He gives a tight squeeze and lets go before handing me my cup.
I sit just as a car horn and less-than-polite language wafts through the chilly December air.
“Aren’t you cold?” I know I said Mr. Bobby was invincible but it was just a figure of speech. I’d hate for him to get sick out here.
“I’ve got my coat, what little is left on my head is covered.” Glancing at his Giants knit beanie, I scoff.
“I was hoping you’d be a Jets fan. I guess nobody's perfect, huh? Not even you, Mr. Bobby.” He chuckles at that and takes a sip of his heavily dosed tea à la whisky. I suppose that’s keeping him warm, too. Good thing it’s sunny out today.
“Ah, looky there. Little Serena Lopez had her baby.” Just as he finishes his phrase, aforementioned Serena waves in his direction shouting that she’ll come by in a minute to introduce him to the newborn.
For the first time in my life, I allow myself to wonder if I could be like Serena one day. Walking along the streets of New York City with a baby tucked into his stroller and growing up with the sounds of life all around.
The honking, the yelling, the music drifting from the open window in the Spring. The chatter on the sidewalks as neighbors run into each other. The tourists asking for directions when their phone GPS leads them astray. Sure, we’ll answer like we’re too busy for their afternoon strolls, but deep inside, we’re proud to know The City inside and out.
“That young woman has come a long way, you know. Her mother raised all four kids with love and strict rules. I told her that deadbeat husband of hers was gonna be a handful.” I have no idea who these people are, but listening to Mr. Bobby is like having a grandpa who relays stories from generation to generation.
“You know, if I ever have kids, I’m going to need you to dole out some good wisdom so I don’t screw them up.” With a sigh, I swallow what’s left of my tea—mostly whisky—and place the cup on the tray.
“Well, I have to go upstairs. I haven’t talked to my brother in a while and he gets worried. Then he calls a bazillion times and annoys me.”
Laughing, he nods his head like it all makes perfect sense.
Before I reach the door, I turn back around and wrap my arms around Mr. Bobby, whispering a heartfelt thank you for always making me feel better.
“See you tom—”
“River! Move!”
“Wha—”
Before I can even get my words out, Mr. Bobby seems to find the strength of ten men and pushes me roughly away from him, his hot drink scalding my hand. It’s so out of character, I barely have time to think. The force of his push is so strong, I can’t stay on my feet, and I fall to the ground, hard. My head hits the step and pain shoots through my brain just before everything goes black.
* * *
The sound of screeching tires and people shouting brings me back and I open my eyes, still with the throbbing pain in my head. As my focus comes back, I see Mr. Bobby staring at me. His head level with mine, on the floor. His eyes are full of so much worry, and I don’t question why he pushed me, instead I sit up slowly and put a hand to where the pain is coming from. Luckily, my hand comes away with no blood anywhere.