Chapter 16
1134 Words
Vivienne's POV
Damien #11: Hey, Vivi. How did the rest of your day go?
I read the text again. I hadn’t expected it so soon. Chewing on my lip, I put my phone down on the coffee table and walk to the window, staring out at the skyline.
It’s late evening, the sun low, casting the buildings in burnt orange hues as it starts to set. Those it can’t reach settle into the grey of the shadows. That’s kind of how I’ve been feeling lately, like the light can’t quite win over the dark. I brace my hands on the window frame and am taken aback.
A beautiful and perfectly-white feather lies against the sill. I pick it up and study it for a while. No imperfections, full and long. My gaze eventually finds my phone again, and this time, I open the text app.
Me: Really good, thank you. Got lots done for Theo. I think it’s going to be a great event.
Damien #11: Me too. He’s always trying to think up new ways of getting the neighborhood involved.
Me: I think it will be a real hit with the kids. The stuff you brought will make everyone super happy, I have no doubt.
Damien #11: It’s no trouble, Vivi. I like to help in whatever way I can.
Me: Seems so. How was your day after you left?
Damien #11: The usual. Practice, training, lifting, and then spending time with Jack. He’s cool to hang out with.
Me: He’s definitely a little character. He had us in stitches when we met him at your game.
Damien #11: Stitches?
Me: Yes, stitches. Like our sides were splitting from laughter. Haven’t you heard that phrase before?
Damien #11: Lol. No. That’s a new one for me.
Me: Oh, well, now you know.
This is good, light. Nothing too stressful. The bubbles bounce in the corner of the screen and then another text appears.
Damien #11: So, what do you want to do on Friday? Anywhere specific you want to visit?
I put my phone down and pick up the feather, twisting it in my fingers so it flutters.
Where do I want to go? We ticked off all the touristy things when Sia first moved here. We were so excited to explore, already feeling a sense of familiarity even though we had never stepped foot in the city before.
We surmised it was down to all the films and shows we had watched growing up. But it’s not just about where I wanted to go. It’s about how long I want to spend with Damien. What if something catches me off guard and upsets me? I chew on my lip again. Stumped for an idea. I decided to leave it up to him.
Me: I don’t mind. You decide.
Damien #11: Really? That’s a lot of faith to put in me, but okay then.
My phone starts to ring. Sia.
She already told me she wouldn’t be back for a while, and desperate for something to do, I offered to make lasagna for dinner. I’ve already done all the prep work for both the main course and the salad dressing, so when Sia informs me she’s on her way and will only be about forty minutes, it’s the perfect amount of time for the lasagna to bake.
Pushing the dish into the oven, I set the timer. Taking the crisp romaine lettuce, little grape tomatoes, red bell peppers, cucumbers, and carrots from the fridge, I set to work on making a large bowl of Italian salad. I wash everything under the cold tap and then go about drying it all off with a paper towel because I don’t want it to make the dressing too watery. Then I chop, dice and slice everything into nice bite-sized chunks, except the carrots. Those I make into ribbons using a veggie peeler and pop the bowl back in the fridge. Then I tidy the kitchen, set the table, and await her arrival.
Soon enough, she’s sashaying through the front door, dressed in a killer power dress, sky-high heels, and her ‘I’ve-been-staring-at-a-screen-too-long’ glasses.
“Hi, honey. I’m home,”
she announces and then kicks off her shoes.
“Wow, Vivi, something smells delicious.”
I smile and pour her a glass of wine and add some 7UP—a nice cool spritzer is what we need in this heat. She laughs.
“The first time I ordered this, the bartender asked me twice because he didn’t think he’d heard right. Just don’t ask for lemonade—it’s not fizzy here.”
I thank her for the tip and the oven timer goes off. She rushes to her room to ‘de-power’ and comes back out in leggings and one of Theo’s FDNY t-shirts.
“Stretchy,”
Sia says while eyeing the meal and patting her flat tummy.
I dish up the food and we begin to eat. She tells me all about her day, and I mean all of it—from the minute she woke up until just a moment ago when she handed an iced frappé to Frank at the door.
“Keep ’em sweet and they’ll help you with heavy stuff,”
she says.
“I’m sure he would help anyway.”
“So, what did you get up to? I know of your whereabouts up until four-thirty.”
This makes me roll my eyes.
“How many times did you ask Theo to text you?”
“Every twenty minutes,”
she says nonchalantly.
“Sia, come on, that’s a lot of texting. Weren’t you busy?”
“Yep,”
she replies as she swallows,
“But never, ever too busy for you or my man.”
I nod and continue eating. What else is there to say on the matter… She loves hard and that’s all there is to it.
“I found out that Theo is working at the same fire station his dad did.”
“Yes,”
she says solemnly.
“And Troy is desperate to be posted there when he finishes his probation. Scott wants to be there, too, so he’s waiting on a transfer.”
We sit a moment and then I find myself asking,
“Does he talk about what happened much?”
“Yes and no,”
she answers immediately.
“It was a long time ago, but it’s still raw for his family, you know? He feels that being at the same firehouse is like carrying on his legacy. They all do. They talk about his dad all the time. I’ve been to a few get-togethers where they regale stories about him to Jack and laugh and joke. I think Troy was only five when it happened, and Theo was maybe nine.”
- Writer
