Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Keep the change,” Ark says, tossing the driver almost double the fee.
His generosity is surprising but not unexpected. Tillie was sick again during the drive to the other side of town, and although the cab’s floor remains spotless, the smell blooming from my handbag and hair is atrocious.
My hair caught what my bag missed, and when I throw open the cab door to exit, the quickest whiff announces the cabbie will need more than a tree-shaped air freshener to convince his next rider to switch on the meter.
“I’ll take her,” Ark offers when I almost slip while struggling to maintain my grip on Tillie’s school backpack, my vomit-filled handbag, and a child who looks deathly lethargic.
I’m not given the chance to deny his offer. In a swift pluck-and-sweep maneuver, Ark pulls Tillie into his arms and exits the cab from the opposite side.
My panic is so high that I trip over my feet while racing for the sidewalk Ark is commanding like a business mogul would a boardroom. Women slow their steps to admire him, and even a handful of men turn their heads and gawk.
Although I understand their wish to drink in the beautiful specimen in front of them, it does little to settle my panic. “I sh-should take her. She’s not well. I don’t want you to get s-sick.”
“I’ll be fine,” Ark replies as if accustomed to dealing with vomit.
Fear tears me in two when he walks toward my building like he’s been here before. The positioning of his hands as he carries Tillie into our building is nowhere close to inappropriate, and Tillie doesn’t seem the slightest bit fazed she is being carried like a child half her age, but I learned the hard way what happens when you accept help from men you assume are meant to protect you.
“Come, Mara.” Ark’s bark snaps me out of a fear that has rendered me motionless. “You’ll catch pneumonia if you remain standing in the rain.”
I stare at him in bewilderment. That’s how heated my blood is. I had no clue it was raining, even with fat droplets rolling down my cheeks. I assumed they were tears.
I fall into step behind Ark and Tillie just as another brutal heave leaves Tillie’s tiny frame. She was born on her due date, but teen pregnancies have multiple disadvantages—the primary: underweight infants. Tillie has always been a head shorter than her peers and several pounds lighter.
When Ark reaches the stoop of the stairs and peers up, I almost tell him that I can take it from here, but the gawk of the building supervisor stops me. Eduard gives me the creeps, and although I’ve known him a lot longer than I have Ark, there’s no doubt who I trust more.
“We’re on the fi-fifth floor.” When Ark’s eyes sling to me, shame overtakes some of the anxiety hammering my voice. “And the elevator is out of order.”
His smile lessens my shakes further. “I guess it’s lucky I skipped cardio this morning.”
An unexpected giggle leaves Tillie’s mouth when Ark gallops up the first flight of stairs like she doesn’t weigh a thing. I did the same when she was a toddler, but as the years passed and her height crept closer to mine, my back started acting as if it were as old as our building.
Once we reach the fifth floor, Ark steps to the side so I can lead our walk. The minimal floor space means I usually close the gap in eight solid strides, but it takes double that amount this time.
It’s hard moving forward when your eyes are constantly darting backward.
My keys clang when I stuff one into the deadbolt I installed against Eduard’s wishes, and I crank open the lock.
When Tillie nuzzles into Ark’s chest before telling him that her bedroom is the third door on the left, a knot forms in my stomach
We’ve never invited a member of the opposite sex into our apartment. Not even Tillie’s close male friends she’s known since kindergarten have crossed the threshold of our front door.
Some of the tension swallowing me whole becomes manageable when Ark seeks my permission to enter my home before doing so. Not a lot, just enough that I stray my eyes to the kitchen at the front of my apartment for only the quickest second before shadowing his walk.
The knife block is full, but the knives aren’t overly sharp. They’d barely cause a scratch.
As Ark walks down the long hallway, he takes in my apartment as if it’s not a dime a dozen around these parts, his expression neither disgusted nor impressed.
Years of practice allow me to slip my keys out of the lock and wedge the longest between my middle and index fingers without making a sound.
I don’t feel the need to protect myself, more that I don’t want my daughter to walk down the same scary corridor I was forced to walk in my youth.