Bundled Up by Annabeth Albert

Author:Annabeth Albert [Albert, Annabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Published: 2015-11-17T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

I didn’t really expect Robin to text back, but I kept my phone next to me all Tuesday evening. Came in, set my phone on the counter with the ringer turned all the way up, got my mail. Stack of junk, but the top piece grabbed my attention.

Buy One, Get One Pizza! Call Happy Slice today!

I held that shiny flyer in my hand for a long time. Carried it and my phone to the couch. I thought about how badly my stomach would ache, how I’d most likely puke if I ate as much as I wanted right then. Thought about beer, and how I had puked the last time I’d tried one. I could go straight for hard liquor and a fast drunk, but that felt . . . disrespectful to Robin and everything he stood for. If I was wrestling with my demons that night, he must surely have been wrestling ones twenty times larger. And I wanted to believe with every fiber of my soul that he would win. That he would be safe that night, and the next night after that.

I pushed up from the couch, let the flyer flutter to the ground. I marched to my entryway. Surveyed it. Tried to see what Robin saw—the foot-thick crown molding details, the vintage light fixture missing two bulbs, the dusty hardwood floor. I pushed all thoughts of pizza from my head and put all my focus into cleaning that entryway.

I removed all the half-empty paint cans and the trash. Swept it clean. Put new lightbulbs in the fixture. Washed the trim. Next night, I went to Home Depot after work. Rented a steamer and spent the next four hours stripping my entryway of the peeling wallpaper. The next night I primed the walls. I ignored Cliff and Trish when they remarked on the bags under my eyes and my groans when I hefted flour sacks. The labor at home felt good. Right, even. Necessary.

I was piping a wedding cake when my phone rang. I dropped my icing bag and leaped across the room to answer the call.

“What happened to ‘all phones should be on vibrate,’ Vic?” Trish asked, trying to imitate my deeper voice and failing. Yeah, I’d cracked down on a couple of the assistants last year. Ordinarily mine never left vibrate. I hate loud ringers. But this wasn’t an ordinary week.

I made a shut-it gesture and picked up the phone. “Hey?”

“Hay is for horses, Victor Degrassi. I raised you better than that.”

“Hello, Ma.” I drew out my syllables.

“You coming for dinner Sunday right?”

Hell. I’d forgotten that Sunday would have been my dad’s sixtieth birthday. Ma wanted to have a family dinner. Seemed kind of morbid to me, but even if he and I had had more than our share of words, I’d still loved him. More to the point, I loved my mom. Wasn’t about to disappoint her, no matter how shitty my week was working out.

“Yes, Ma. I’ll be there. What kind of bread you want?”

“A nice sourdough.

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