“You’re my emergency contact for a reason,” I blurted. “If I wanted either of them, I would have put them as my emergency contact, but I put you because you’ve had my back since my first day at the bookstore. You’ve taken care of me in ways I’ve never had before.”
He turned his head to me for a moment, the headlights of the passing cars highlighting the warmth in his eyes. “Darling,” he whispered.
“All I need is for you to get me home, put on a pot of tea, and leave me on the couch. I don’t need Sarah or Carrie fussing over me. Love them, but that will just make me more anxious,” I explained, leaving out the part about me being utterly embarrassed. “I just need to be in my safe space.”
“Very well, darling,” he murmured, his eyes on the road. “We’ll do just that, but I’ll be back first thing in the morning to take you to your bank. We’re going to get this figured out. I promise.”
Though his words were comforting, I let his promise fade into the evening as I turned back to watch the coastline, memorizing the colors of the sunset. I didn’t have the energy to lie to myself anymore. Instead, I drifted off to sleep and, in my dream, just like in reality, I drowned.
“Margo.”
A light shake of my shoulder.
“Margo, wake up. We’re home.”
My head snapped up, pain shooting down the side of my neck. I grunted, bringing my hand to the sore spot as I blinked, adjusting to the light. The neon red sign of the Buoy was particularly bright tonight, theyblinking rapidly. I hated that damn thing. For the last month, I’d been hassling Joey to fix it because one day someone was going to have a seizure in the parking lot. Then he would get slapped with a lawsuit, thus leading to fines he couldn’t pay for. Then the bar of fifty years would go under, and my secondary income would be lost. And after all that was said and done, I would have to beat Joey’s ass with the bat I kept behind my bedroom door in said parking lot for being so incompetent.
“Margo?”
“Yeah, sorry,” I muttered, shaking my head. As Rossy got out and rounded the front of his car, I focused on the nail polish chip on my right index finger. I’d just painted my nails the day before yesterday, so excited to try out this deep, rich purple for Halloween.
My door was opened, and I mustered up the strength to look my boss in the eye. “Why does everything I do go wrong?” I whispered.
Rossy looked across the parking lot for a moment, the gentle sound of the waves in the distance. “Do you truly believe that? That everything you do goes wrong?”
I didn’t give him an answer. Instead, I got out of the car, the brisk autumn air surrounding me, and I shivered.
“Where is your coat?” Rossy asked on a sigh.
“Hanging on the hook in my entryway,” I deadpanned, keeping my eyes to the ground as I headed to my apartment.
Rossy stayed close as we crossed the parking lot, regulars from the bar lingering outside, hooting and hollering. By all the laughter and hardy smiles, I knew it was a good catch day for most of the fishing crews. By midnight, the parking lot would be in full swing because there wouldn’t be enough room for everyone in the bar. Another problem Joey needed to address but failed to. He was friends with the fire marshal, and because of that, he assumed his father’s bar was safe.
When we got to the staircase at the back of the building that led to my apartment, I heard Rossy mutter something about finding me a new place to live.
“Can’t let you do that, boss man,” I told him over my shoulder as we climbed up. “There’s a sweet window in my bedroom that gives me a killer view of the water. Plus, rent is cheap.”
“Yes, but you’re living above a bar. Doesn’t it get noisy?” he asked as I fished for my keys.
Found them.
“Not really. Joey’s dad knew what he was doing when he built this place” I slid the key into the lock, turned the knob, and pushed. The front door swung open, and I led him inside. He’d only been here once or twice in the few years I’d been working for him. Once to bring me soup when I was sick and the second time to help me move my green couch, something he detested with his entire being.
“Right, well, let me get the kettle on,” Rossy murmured, slipping past me and heading straight toward the kitchen. Last Christmas, he’d bought Sarah, Carrie, and me whistling kettles, claiming a good “cuppa” was the solution to all the world’s problems.
As I heard the water kick on, I stared at the corner of my rug, which had slowly been curling up after I tripped over it one night as I was rushing out the door. I’d been running late that night, having spent too much time on my homework, hunched overmy shitty kitchen table that had a horrible tendency to wobble. Without taking my eyes away from the curled corner, focusing on the frayed bits of string, a result of wear and tear, I tossed my keys into the baby blue bowl on my entryway table. The clatter echoed throughout my living room.
“You all right?” Rossy called.
I lifted my eyes, looking over my green couch, finding him standing in front of the stove, kettle in hand. I kicked the door closed and flipped the lock, nodding at him.
Ten minutes later, the tea was made, I was curled up on the couch under my favorite blanket, andYou’ve Got Mailwas playing on the TV. I lifted the steaming mug, taking a sip, and a moan slipped from my lips. “This is so good,” I groaned.
A small, proud smile found his lips as he pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time. I waved him off with a quiet fake laugh, understanding that he was out of his routine. “You can head home, Rossy. I’ll be okay.”
He shifted his weight, unsure. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
I nodded, giving him a forced smile. “I’ll be here.”