It was a slow day.
I drummed my fingertips against the top of the glass display case, being careful touch the same smudge marks I’d already left so I’d have less to clean later. Inventory had just been last week, so we had another week before that shitshow. There were no holidays to use as an excuse for any sort of sale, meaning everything was full-price which didn’t attract many customers. It was only two hours before we closed to boot, and all the closing duties I could do had been finished early; vacuuming, sweeping, dusting, organizing, redressing the mannequin in the window for the weekend.
The quiet bell of the door chimed, and I nearly groaned in relief at the distraction. If this job didn’t pay me as much as they did, and if I didn’t need that money to support myself, I would consider risking it to play a game on my phone or, more likely, read a book on it. Physical books were less taboo than a phone but I’d finished the one I’d started two days ago at one in the morning last night and didn’t have the budget to buy another one until tomorrow’s pay day.
A tall woman walked in, wearing distressed cuffed jeans and a loose blouse that was half tucked-in. Her hair was pulled back into a slick updo, a manicured hand reaching up to place her sunglasses on her head.
“Welcome in,” I greeted gently. I’d discovered in my first week that if I was too perky or happy I would scare some customers away. “My name’s Callie if you need anything.”
The woman nodded briefly but otherwise ignored me. I didn’t take it personally. I wasn’t a people-person myself.
The woman browsed for a good ten or fifteen minutes before her attention was snagged by one of the scarfs on display. As soon as she reached out to touch the sleep silk fabric, I made my way over to her.
“That’s a beautiful color for your skin tone,” I complimented truthfully. The rich purple and gold would work well with her flawless dark skin. “This is part of Wonda’s new line that was launched for the summer,” I added, curious if she’d care about the name. Some people would only go for items from the biggest names, while others shopped for what they found aesthetically pleasing. It gave me valuable insight by asking such a simple questing and gauging customer’s reactions.
There was a reason I was the top salesperson at this branch, in line for an assistant manager position if I wanted it when one opened. I’d turned down the promotion once already; I didn’t want to have to relocate or get a car. I preferred to take the subway to and from work, since everything else I needed was in walking distance in the city. And if my own two feet or the subway couldn’t take me, I typically splurged on a rideshare.
The woman’s gaze didn’t waver as she toyed with the end of the scarf, telling me that the name attached wasn’t as important. Excellent. I much preferred to help clients find the type of accessories that worked for them without trying to stay within a brand name or two.
“It is gorgeous,” she allowed, letting her hand drop.
“Are you in search of anything particular today?”
“Just whatever speaks to me.”
I nodded my understanding. “Any particular event or occasion?”
“Anniversary present for myself.”
“Romantic?” She wore no jewelry on her hands, wrists, or neck that might indicate a lover, but that didn’t mean much. Besides, I would hope that one’s romantic partner would be the one to purchase the gift for the other person.
“Job. I’m the owner of Jade’s Florals. It’s our five-year anniversary of being in business.”
It was hard to school my features into professional neutrality. I’d heard of the florist, even passed by the shop a few times on the rare occasions I treated myself to a lunch out. Her work had been featured in some high-profile weddings and corporate events in the area, and her shop’s popularity was only growing.
“Your work is marvelous,” I said honestly. “We love your Winter Holiday arrangements we’ve had the past two years.” It always smelled like cinnamon and pine from her flowers, and I was obsessed. Last year I’d taken the nearly-dead arrangements home with me and managed to coax another week out of them before the pine needles fell off and made a huge mess on my kitchen table.
She grinned, and I hoped she was pleased that I remembered her work. “Thank you. Tell me, if you were the owner of a floral shop in search for a gift for yourself to reward years of hard-work, what would you go for?”
Oh, I liked her. She trusted my opinion to, at the very least, point her in the right direction. It was a breath of fresh air from the usual I-know-what-I-want-but-you-have-to-read-my-mind clients we usually had.
I took a step back and considered her a moment before a grin split my face.
Twenty minutes later, I finished wrapping up her purchases. The solid gold matching earrings and necklace were stunning but not overstated, perfect to wear for delivering to high profile clients and events.
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“What’s that on your arm?”
I paused, muscles freezing while I processed her words and figured out what she mean.
“Oh!” I placed the second box in the bag and twisted to expose my forearm. My black sleeve had ridden up and without the bio-screen powered on, it caught the overhead lights in a slight, fuzzy glare. “It’s one of the bio-screens,” I explained. “It’s not turned on yet, which is why it stands out.”
“One of those medical ones?”
I nodded, a flush rising to my cheeks. I didn’t like to share my illness with others because of the pitying looks I’d often get.
“I heard about the clinical trials. I’m glad there’s efforts to figure it out instead of just treating the symptoms. LaShoul’s is the worst. Took my aunt’s life ten years back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Jade waved a hand at me. “Appreciated, but not necessary. She was also a drug addict, and not a blood relative anyways.” I didn’t know what to say to that information, and Jade could tell. She laughed at my expression. “Don’t worry about it. I tend to overshare, and forget most people don’t. Anyways, thank you for your help today, Callie. These are perfect.”
“Happy to help.”
My grin faded as she left. Only an hour and a half to go.
----------------------------------------
“How’d it go?” Leo’s cheerful voice asked on the other end of the line. I grinned as I looked down at my newly activated screen.
“Good, I think? I mean, the thing works,” I said. I wedged my phone under my shoulder and tapped at the screen like he’d shown me. It felt like I was just touching my own skin, and it was…weird. When the screen was “off,” it perfectly matched my skin tone without giving any glare or reflection like it had yesterday. “I have the whole weekend to play with it.”
“Your weekend off?” He could never remember which days I had off in a week, even though they never changed.
“Yeah, and I took today as a sick day for the activation appointment, so I’ll probably raid the used bookstore and be a hermit.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re no fun?”
“Yes. You. All the time. It’s not my fault that books are better than people!”
I could almost hear his eye roll. “Come on, Callie. Why not try something new? There’s a new steak and seafood restaurant I’ve been dying to try,” he pleaded.
“Dying, are you?”
“Yes. Metaphorically and literally.”
I scoffed a laugh. “You have no shame.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. But seriously, Callie, I want to check it out and I don’t want to go alone. None of my other friends get it like you do.”
I sighed, long and dramatically, just to make things difficult. “Fine. What level of dress are we talking here?”
“Yes!” he cheered. “You’re the best!”
“Uh-huh. What level dress?”
“Um, I’m not sure, let me just pull up their website and check…”
So it was one of those restaurants. No wonder his friends weren’t interested. They preferred to patron dive bars and tiny hole-in-the-wall diners. They’d have their whole lives to have a quiet, peaceful dinner at some expensive place when they were old and boring.
Leo made a sound that immediately had me on edge.
“What. Level. Leo.”
He hesitated, coughing once. “…Five.”
“Five?” I repeated. Five out of five on my made-up scale was as fancy as fancy got. I had nothing to wear to a place like that. I didn’t belong in a place like that. “Absolutely not. Nuh-uh. Not happening, Leo. I don’t do fives.”
“Callie,” he mock-whined, which turned into another cough. “Pwetty pwease?”
“Nope.”
“Not even if I—”
“Never.”
“You didn’t even wait to hear—” He coughed again, interrupting himself.
“Didn’t need to.”
Leo was quiet. I pulled the phone away to make sure the call was still connected. It was. I pressed it back against my ear and listened carefully.
“Leo...?”
No response.
I stopped in my tracks and almost got run over on the busy city sidewalk. I glanced around, finding an alcove for a business to duck into. I covered my other ear with my hand.
There. I could just barely make out the sound of Leo’s wet cough, muffled into a pillow or his sleeve or something.
Fuck.
My legs were moving before I my brain caught up to what was happening.
“Callie…” he said weakly.
“Are you at your apartment?” I demanded.
“…Yes.”
“I’m already on my way. I’m not far.” I was only about five blocks away. Not far but…not close enough, not with how quickly this was escalating already. My feet picked up the pace. “Stay on the phone with me. Try to get to your medicine.”
He only coughed in response, this one sounding worse than the last. Any hope of a mild episode evaporated.
“Shit,” I swore, breaking out into a run. I debated just calling the paramedics, but by the time they’d reach him, I’d already be there. The medicine we both kept on our persons would halt the episode long enough for it to calm down or get to a hospital. It was easier to recover from the rough episodes in the comfort of your own home versus a hospital bed.
I made it to his apartment building in record time. My hands were shaking, and I punched in his code wrong twice before getting the green light. The elevator seemed too slow, but I was out of breath and panting with my hands on my knees. I was not an athlete.
Thankfully, the doorpad was biometric instead of numeric, and I’d been programmed in two years ago. I wiped my hands on my shorts and clumsily placed my right one on the pad. The door buzzed, and I dashed in.
“Leo?” I called out in a panic. I found him laying awkwardly on the couch, blood dripping from his nose. His eyes were bloodshot as they lazily found me. His breathing was raspy, which told me he’d been getting worse before our phone call and hadn’t told me.
I fought the tears that sprung to my eyes. Now was not the time to talk about it or get upset. Leo needed me. I quickly uncapped the pill bottle and shook out two pills, bringing them to his mouth and slipping them past his lips. He had a bottle of water already nearby, and I uncapped it and held it to his mouth, carefully tipping it. Leo took a swig, swallowing the pills.
And we waited.
It took about five minutes for the medicine to kick in. But those five minutes seemed to last forever. I didn’t look away from his face, not once, as I laid a discarded blanket over his legs and propped a pillow under his head. Once his breathing became easier, I was able to take a breath myself. I sat down on the floor next to him and rested my head against the edge of the couch.
“What the fuck, Leo?” I breathed. Tears finally spilled down my cheeks. I kept my face hidden.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized quietly, voice slightly raspy. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize it was going to get so bad so quick.” He placed a hand on top of my head, slowly stroking my hair.
“You’re getting worse.” The words hurt to say, to admit that the man who’d become my best friend was dying. Not today, or tomorrow, but maybe in a year or two.
“Yeah, well, that’s life.”
“It’s not enough.”
“It has to be.”
I sighed and lifted my head.
“Let’s get a bath going.”