Page 39 of The Right Sign

Who’s in rehab?

I glance at Yaya and then at her cell phone.

Ah.

So her curiosity forced her to speak to me.

I type and show her my screen.

My sister. She was in a car accident last night.

A glint of surprise fills her eyes and then it’s gone. She pulls her phone close. Her thumbs move quickly over the keyboard. The line of concentration between her brows is going to be one of my favorite things.

Yaya shows me the phone.

What happened? Is she okay?

There it is.The kindness she showed last night.

Silence falls, but it’s not unpleasant. She studies me while I’m studying her. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say I’m admiring her.

Investing is a ruthless affair. Business is about serving people, while also serving the bottom line, and empathy is a piece that never quite fits in the puzzle. Not unless it’s for publicity. Or tax breaks.

True compassion has been beaten out of me, forged away in the fire of indifference.

The world is a hard place. A cold place.

But, in Yaya, her kindness is a fire burning through her skin.

There was a part of me hoping the connection I felt with her last night was a fluke. A biological response to the weather, to the stars passing over the moon or some other astrological nonsense.

If no proper explanation could be found then, at the very least, I was hoping that her effect on me would be faint at minimum and eventually wane until it became non-existent.

Unfortunately, the more time I spend around her, the more these strange feelings seem to grow.

Perhaps I should get myself admitted along with my sister.

Yaya shows me her phone again.

You don’t have to tell me if it’s private.

It is private. I paid an insane amount of money to keep it private. But I suddenly don’t want to keep secrets from her.

My sister drove drunk and rammed her car into a building.

Yaya’s eyes widen as she makes an audible gasp.

Was anyone hurt?

No. Not unless you count the salon window.

That’s good.

I don’t want to lose my momentum, so I type another question.

Is Yaya short for something?

She shakes her head, types and shows me the message.