Read Online Effortless With You by Lizzy Charles - Free Book Online
Authors: Lizzy Charles
Ads: Link
matchbox car. The screen door opens and Mom and Dad walk in.
“Lucy, I was just about to call you,” Dad says. Justin stands up and Dad pats his back. Excellent. They are buddies. “Justin stopped in to check on you.” Dad smiles at me indicatively.
No, Dad. Way off.
Justin picks up on my Dad’s smile and interjects, “Well, actually, my uncle sent me. As the owner he feels it’s important to check on any employee who falls sick or gets injured on the job. He has a business meeting,” he explains.
Mom speaks in her fake sweet voice, “Well, isn’t that nice? You’re lucky, Lucy, working for such a great company.”
Working? As if I still am? Whoa. I must’ve missed something. What about the hospitalization? It never even occurred to me that I’d be returning.
“So,” Justin looks at me. “How are you feeling?”
Eric answers for me. “Good. Lucy is not sick. She’s all better!” He looks up at me, so proud of his sentences.
I pat him on the head, “That’s right, buddy. I’m all better now.” Eric seems satisfied and zooms a car into Mom’s foot. She scoops him off the ground and cuddles him in a hug; he sticks his jellied face into her neck.
My eyes dart away. I don’t get to have any memories of doing that with Mom. Her depression stole all opportunity from me. My preschool friends’ moms used to do the same rocking hug after our holiday concerts. But Mom couldn’t even make it to hear me sing. She just sat empty on the couch, waiting for nothing. The only fun memories I have is when I was Eric’s age and we watered plants together every day. Her therapy had started. She’d get off the couch, teaching me about each plant and we’d talk to them while watering, encouraging them to grow. But when she finally got better, I was too old for those sorts of hugs.
“Anymore fainting?” Justin asks.
“Nope. I’m one hundred percent.”
“When do you feel able to return to work? Any restrictions?” Justin acts so professional in front of my parents.
“Umm …” I look at Dad. He shakes his head and looks toward Mom. I can’t believe it. They’re still expecting me to do this.
“How about I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we can see how you handle it?” Justin offers.
I'm defeated. “Fine,” I mutter. At least I won’t have to be stuck at home with Mom all day. There’s no way she’s going to let me hang out at the pool with Marissa if I'm not well enough to work. I open the kitchen door, hinting at Justin to leave.
Justin takes my lead. “Well, Mrs. Zwindler. It was nice to see you again. Mr. Zwindler, always a pleasure.” My parents respond with enthusiastic goodbyes. Why does he have to act so perfect around them? He’s so fake. Justin looks back at me. “Lucy, I have your lunch bag in my car.”
“Right,” I sigh. Why didn’t he just bring it in with him? I walk out, leaving him behind. He can follow when he's ready. I sit down on the front porch; his appreciation for the fertilized tulip bulbs floats out the window. His mom is apparently very excited. Yeah, right. I picture the tulip bulbs abandoned in a trash can or, more likely, flung onto the side of the road.
Finally, the front door swings open and he steps out alone. “So, Lucind-”
“Don’t call me Lucinda.” I stand up, crossing the lawn to his truck.
“Why not? It’s your name.”
I groan. “Just don’t.”
“No problem. Lucinda is too proper for you anyway. You threw up in my front seat. A Lucinda wouldn’t have done that.”
I cringe. Justin opens the passenger door. I walk over, bracing myself for the smell of vomit. Instead, a lemon-fresh scent greets me. Scrubbed swirls decorate the floored upholstery.
“I’ll pay you back. How much did it cost?”
He lifts his eyebrow. “What cost?”
“The interior cleaning.”
“Oh, nothing.” He shrugs. “I did it myself.”
“You cleaned up my puke?”
“Someone had to do it.” He shrugs again while reaching under the seat to
“Lucy, I was just about to call you,” Dad says. Justin stands up and Dad pats his back. Excellent. They are buddies. “Justin stopped in to check on you.” Dad smiles at me indicatively.
No, Dad. Way off.
Justin picks up on my Dad’s smile and interjects, “Well, actually, my uncle sent me. As the owner he feels it’s important to check on any employee who falls sick or gets injured on the job. He has a business meeting,” he explains.
Mom speaks in her fake sweet voice, “Well, isn’t that nice? You’re lucky, Lucy, working for such a great company.”
Working? As if I still am? Whoa. I must’ve missed something. What about the hospitalization? It never even occurred to me that I’d be returning.
“So,” Justin looks at me. “How are you feeling?”
Eric answers for me. “Good. Lucy is not sick. She’s all better!” He looks up at me, so proud of his sentences.
I pat him on the head, “That’s right, buddy. I’m all better now.” Eric seems satisfied and zooms a car into Mom’s foot. She scoops him off the ground and cuddles him in a hug; he sticks his jellied face into her neck.
My eyes dart away. I don’t get to have any memories of doing that with Mom. Her depression stole all opportunity from me. My preschool friends’ moms used to do the same rocking hug after our holiday concerts. But Mom couldn’t even make it to hear me sing. She just sat empty on the couch, waiting for nothing. The only fun memories I have is when I was Eric’s age and we watered plants together every day. Her therapy had started. She’d get off the couch, teaching me about each plant and we’d talk to them while watering, encouraging them to grow. But when she finally got better, I was too old for those sorts of hugs.
“Anymore fainting?” Justin asks.
“Nope. I’m one hundred percent.”
“When do you feel able to return to work? Any restrictions?” Justin acts so professional in front of my parents.
“Umm …” I look at Dad. He shakes his head and looks toward Mom. I can’t believe it. They’re still expecting me to do this.
“How about I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we can see how you handle it?” Justin offers.
I'm defeated. “Fine,” I mutter. At least I won’t have to be stuck at home with Mom all day. There’s no way she’s going to let me hang out at the pool with Marissa if I'm not well enough to work. I open the kitchen door, hinting at Justin to leave.
Justin takes my lead. “Well, Mrs. Zwindler. It was nice to see you again. Mr. Zwindler, always a pleasure.” My parents respond with enthusiastic goodbyes. Why does he have to act so perfect around them? He’s so fake. Justin looks back at me. “Lucy, I have your lunch bag in my car.”
“Right,” I sigh. Why didn’t he just bring it in with him? I walk out, leaving him behind. He can follow when he's ready. I sit down on the front porch; his appreciation for the fertilized tulip bulbs floats out the window. His mom is apparently very excited. Yeah, right. I picture the tulip bulbs abandoned in a trash can or, more likely, flung onto the side of the road.
Finally, the front door swings open and he steps out alone. “So, Lucind-”
“Don’t call me Lucinda.” I stand up, crossing the lawn to his truck.
“Why not? It’s your name.”
I groan. “Just don’t.”
“No problem. Lucinda is too proper for you anyway. You threw up in my front seat. A Lucinda wouldn’t have done that.”
I cringe. Justin opens the passenger door. I walk over, bracing myself for the smell of vomit. Instead, a lemon-fresh scent greets me. Scrubbed swirls decorate the floored upholstery.
“I’ll pay you back. How much did it cost?”
He lifts his eyebrow. “What cost?”
“The interior cleaning.”
“Oh, nothing.” He shrugs. “I did it myself.”
“You cleaned up my puke?”
“Someone had to do it.” He shrugs again while reaching under the seat to
Similar Books
