Page 65 of Strawberry Cake

“I’m sure you’d have tried.” With that, Queenie turned and walked away, not wanting to escalate the situation.

Sitting back down, she was faced with curious and accusatory eyes from Jessica and Allison.

She sighed and relaxed into the lounge chair. “His son bullied me in school.”

“The boy that drowned your final papers?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, so you told him to fuck off.”

“More or less.”

“Well even if you said it in a kinder, more polite way, I’m still proud of you.”

“Thanks, Jessie. It did feel good.”

Allison frowned. “Shame, he doesn’t look that old.”

“I think he was a teen dad.”

Jessica steered the conversation away from the man, and Queenie relaxed. But it seemed that Mr. Richman wasn’t one to back down easily. It wasn’t long before he appeared next to her.

“I’m sorry for what Luka put you through. I just wanted to say that I’m not my son.” He handed her a small note. Queenie took it, hesitantly, but he seemed to relax. “There’s no pressure.”

She watched him until he climbed into a black supped-up truck and drove away.

“What does it say?” Jessica pressed, craning her head over the small table between them to see the note.

Queenie looked down and unfolded the scrap of paper. There, in neat handwriting, was his name and phone number. Her first instinct was to rip it apart but then Allison’s words stopped her.

“What sweet revenge it would be to seduce his dad. Imagine his face when you’re sitting across the Thanksgiving table as his potential new stepmom.”

Thatdidsound tempting.

After a while Queenie left her friends and went home, contemplating all night. She laid awake for ages, unsure of what she should do. Luka had made her life a living hell the moment he’d seen her so-called disability. Yes, having been born without her left hand had made her life more challenging, but she nor her parents had ever felt like she was less than ordinary. That night out had given her more to think about than she cared for.

The next morning, she’d been stirring her cereal around in the bowl so long it had gone soggy. Frustrated, she decided to just rip off the Band-Aid. Snatching her phone, she entered his number and fired off the text before she lost the strength to do so.

Hi Boyd,

It’s Queenie. From last night.

Hi Queenie,

I didn’t think I would hear from you at all.

I’m still not sure if this is a good idea.

Would you feel comfortable meeting up for coffee to talk?

Do you know a good place near you?

I enjoy the one in Discovery Green.

When are you free?

I can be ready in an hour.