Page 2 of No Take Backs
At nine, Lyla is just getting to the point that she doesn’t want anything to do with her parents, or any other adult for that matter. Which means Ella is constantly dragging me to the ends of the earth with her to different activities. Last month, we had to go all the way down to Portland for a gymnastics competition, three hours from home. And next week, I know that Ella is going to ask me to go with them to some martial arts thing so that Lyla can get her next belt level. Which will be awesome as shit, because my girl is almost a brown belt or something like that.
“What’s going on with Rich?” I take her drink and set it on the table, waiting for her to wrap her mind around my intrusive-as-fuck question.
Technically, I only put about one shot worth of vodka in each pouch, so if I’m careful and don’t drink them all at once, I’ll be okay by the time the party is over and Ella drives us back to the hotel.
“He’s working,” she hedges. But I see the way she starts to pick at her cuticles with one hand and the way her fingers clench and press against the table with the other hand.
“Liar,” I whisper, right as a breathless Lyla pops up at the table.
Without even looking at her mom or me, she bursts into laughter and clutches the chair we saved for her. “You guys have to get on skates.” Her breath is coming in short gasps, and Ella is already reaching into her bag for Lyla’s rescue inhaler. “Seriously.” She gasps again. “It’s so much fun.”
Instead of panicking like I want to at the rush of air and the way her chest is practically heaving, I reach over and brush the loose blond hair from her face, revealing her hazel eyes, tucking it behind her ear. “How long have you been struggling?”
“Just now.” Her face has already started to turn bright red. “Came. Right. Over.”
Ella holds out the inhaler, without the familiar spacer that I’ve seen Lyla use since her asthma diagnosis when she was six months old.
“Here, baby girl. You know what to do.” Ella’s fingers tremble while we both watch Lyla grab the inhaler and use it like a pro.
Puff. Then a deep breath to make sure she gets enough of it.
Another puff. Another deep breath.
The longest thirty seconds of my life drags by.
At least the longest thirty seconds since Lyla’s last time needing her rescue inhaler in my presence.
When Lyla’s cheeks turn back to normal a minute later and her chest stops rising so dramatically, I take a deep breath, but the sense of calm that settles over me has nothing on the utter relief that seems to fall from Ella’s shoulders in waves.
“I hate this,” she mutters when Lyla starts chattering to herself and reaches for a snack, oblivious to our panic at the situation.
I take my sister’s hand and squeeze, offering her the silent support I know she needs from me. After all, she doesn’t just ask me to go to everything under the sun for Lyla just to watch her. Ella needs the help. She needs a second set of eyes on our girl.
“Mom, seriously.” Lyla turns on us suddenly. “It’s just asthma. I’m not dying.”
Her hazel eyes flash with annoyance when Ella opens her mouth to argue, so I step in.
“You know, I’m pretty exhausted and your mom has been keeping me company.” I raise an eyebrow. “After all, she’s been my sister forever. You’re just her daughter, and you’ve only been around like five years.”
Lyla huffs and then leans forward and hugs her mom. “But she likes me more than you. So you can suck it, Auntie Nia. And you know darn well that I’m nine.” And while her mom is distracted by her hug, Lyla sticks her tongue out at me.
I ignore her sass and sip on my drink.
“Are you almost ready to go?” Ella is hesitant to let her go, and it’s almost comical how Lyla tries.
“I’m not done skating yet, Mom.” She finally pulls away. “Can we stay for a little bit longer?”
When a man in a familiar blue uniform walks right by our table, I choke on my drink and stuff it back in my purse like it is a giant bottle of vodka. Then I turn to watch the Maine State police officer walk by, smiling at the way his ass hugs his uniform.
“We should stay,” I tell Ella, interrupting whatever they are saying. “Just for a little bit.” I turn back to Lyla with a wink.
Taking her chance, Lyla skates off before Ella can tell her to stop.
“What’s that all about?” Ella spears me with a suspicious glare. “You never volunteer to stay for longer when I’m ready to go. Not only that, but there’s a whole conversation to be had about drinking in the rink.”
“Because.” I scoot my chair over slightly so I can watch the hot cop take a seat with another guy a dozen or so feet away. “I think she deserves a little space. And you didn’t tell me what’s going on with you and your husband. Do you guys have big plans for your ten-year anniversary?”
“No.” Ella freezes up immediately. “We don’t have any plans.”