“Why were you fired?” She doesn’t seem the type to do anything dirty. Not like the players in my game.
“Sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. She didn’t like it and made sure I stopped doing it. It’s all over online. I don’t need to tell you the story. You can look for yourself.”
“It’s what reporters do, though, right? Stick their noses into other peoples’ business? I’ve had my share in my face.” I try not to sound bitter about it, but it doesn’t work.
“Yeah, well, harassing you isn’t the same as what I was doing. I was trying to make a difference, makechange. Cedar Hill is fucked—” she winces “—sorry, I can have a potty mouth—and no one wants to do anything about it. Or people are too scared to do anything about it, which amounts to the same thing. I don’t care anymore. It’s not my fight, and I have more important things to worry about now.”
“Like what?”
She scowls, but instead of looking fierce, she looks like a spitting kitten—adorable. “I just told you. Take care of my sister, look for a different job. I can’t force you to talk to me. I knew that driving up here, and I can’t wait for you to decide you want to. As soon as the snow clears, I’ll get out of your face.”
“Will your boyfriend go with you?”
She turns away, swipes at her cheeks. “Yeah. We’re just one big happy family. I’m going downstairs. Do you need help?”
It takes me aback she cares enough to ask. “No.”
Nodding, she pushes past me and trots down the metal staircase. I want to tell her to be careful, but she’s an adult and can handle a set of lighthouse steps.
I’m not going to be sorry I’m costing her a job. Her employment shouldn’t be contingent on if she can get an interview out of someone. Whoever assigned her the task indeed has it out for her, and it’s probably best she cuts her losses with that kind of attitude aimed at her. If it’s not me, it will be something else, and it sounds like she’s put up with this long enough.
I sit in the chair, the metal creaking, my back thanking me for smartening up. I try to relax, breathe deeply, release the tension in my body. The snow will keep me from my massage appointment, and I need to be careful I don’t overdo it. An ambulance won’t come for Devyn if she falls down the stairs, and it won’t come for me, either, if I push myself.
My weather app says the snow will last two more days. Two days and maybe one more to let the snowplows catch up before she can go. Should be manageable if we stop having personal conversations. Sounds like she has it tough, but I don’t have the emotional room to get involved in her life.
I stare at the snow whipping past the glass, the brightness of it still hurting my eyes.
It’s almost an hour later when my body is loose enough to go downstairs. I went through every relaxation technique I know, but I’m still going to hurt later. It must have been the tossing and turning I did last night. I haven’t had such a poor day for a long time. As with anything, going down is a lot easier than going up, but I sigh when my feet are on solid ground.
I check in on Devyn, but she’s not in her room. She’s sitting on the couch, the blanket I gave her last night wrapped around her shoulders, staring into space, the thriller she found laying in her lap.
Letting her be, I head to my own room. I need to finish a library book that will be overdue with the storm, but I can’t get comfortable, a knot in my back tightening until I’m moaning in pain.
Devyn finds me writhing, covered in sweat, and all I can croak out is, “Help me.”