One Less Problem Without You Page 12

  It was hard to focus. Her mind kept drifting back to her recent failure and the possibility of another one. What if…? had become a scary question. She just stared at the highlighted lines—ones she had highlighted while actively thinking of this as a backup audition, back when she felt pretty sure she’d get the Neverland role.

  What a fool.

  The phone rang a couple of times. Chelsea—always the professional outwardly—answered with her dreamy work-voice and walked people through their rainy-day cancellations.

  There were a handful of them, and with each one Chelsea envisioned a different corner of a cozy home that had kept that person from going out on a rainy Sunday.

  She thought of a warm bed with a down comforter and the even warmer body of a beloved boyfriend, a Netflix queue filled with unwatched episodes of a favorite show.

  She imagined a cooking mother and a happy, chatting child at the counter and a cup of warm, creamy coffee.

  Even an empty house, a record player in the corner, a good book, and a chair with a glass of midday Who Cares, It’s Sunday wine.

  All of the things that could stop people from needing to leave the house and find out where they would be at any point in the future. Why would they need to wonder? Those imagined characters had time, love, security. They didn’t have stomach-plunging misery to revel in or to unsuccessfully distract themselves from.

  The door jingled, and Chelsea looked up to see Prinny coming in with a woman she didn’t recognize.

  She shot up, jumping into character. More psychic in tune with the world, less mopey, aging barely-was actress.

  Luckily, she got to be dramatic either way.

  Chelsea rose and smiled at the two women. Both were soaking wet from the weather, and the stranger looked utterly miserable.

  Prinny held out an introductory hand. “Chelsea, this is my sister-in-law, Diana.”

  Relaxing, Chelsea put on a smile. “Hi, Diana.”

  “Di,” she said, with a tight-lipped smile that lacked even the slightest shadow of joy.

  Chelsea was startled. “I’m sorry?”

  The woman’s face registered the misunderstanding. “Call me Di. Or Diana. It really doesn’t matter. I don’t even know why I said anything.” She looked disproportionately distraught about her name, but it was obvious that wasn’t really the issue.

  It didn’t take psychic ability to tell that this woman was in the lowest of the lows. It was so obvious that Chelsea wanted to simply ask, as she might have asked even a stranger in her bubblier days, What’s wrong? What’s happened?

  But instead she sat back down in the chair and watched as the women took off coats and boots. Not only had she lost her bubbles lately, but she knew that sometimes people simply did not want to discuss whatever was making them feel noticeably bad.

  “I’m not seeing much business for today,” said Prinny. “The streets are flooding. Fifty is closed under the Memorial Bridge thanks to flooding, and the GW Parkway is a mess. I would be amazed if anyone decided to stop and walk around M Street today.” She stepped into the back and grabbed two towels. She handed one to Diana and then started patting down her long, damp hair.

  “Yes, we’ve had a few cancellations and one missed appointment so far,” said Chelsea.

  Unlike back in her waitressing days, the idea of no business for the day sounded pretty appealing.

  Di looked like she was in a haze. She moved slowly, drying herself off in such a vague way that she appeared almost to be in a trance, copying Prinny’s movements.

  Chelsea gave Prinny a questioning look, and Prinny raised her eyebrows in an expression that said, It’s a doozy.

  After the two of them were as dry as they were going to get, they sat down in the other chairs.

  “Would either of you like some tea?” asked Di.

  Chelsea was confused. That was an offer usually reserved for the hosts. Also, she didn’t think they even had any tea. Perhaps she was hinting that she would like some.

  “I don’t know if we have—” she began.

  “Diana makes teas and tinctures,” Prinny explained. “I actually think she could be a really good addition to the shop. Remember how we were just trying to come up with something, Chelsea?”

  Chelsea nodded. Of course she did. Suddenly Prinny not only had a magical herbalist but it was her gloomy Eeyore of a sister-in-law?

  Seems like that would have come up during the original conversation if it was really a legit idea.

  But it was none of Chelsea’s business what Prinny did with the shop. As long as it stayed open, Chelsea was glad. It was the bulk of her income (a very sad statement, and the kind of thing Maria Kingston would probably never have to admit to).

  “I think you could have a new career at hand, Di,” Prinny went on with false cheer.

  “I haven’t had a career in God knows how long.” It’ll never work … Glum from Gulliver’s Travels came to mind.

  There was an awkward silence that Chelsea filled almost immediately from discomfort. “Well, what of it? No time like the present, is there?” Was there? What was she saying? She didn’t even know what this woman was doing here.

  Prinny straightened her spine. “I don’t want to push, obviously. But you were saying you need to do something, so … why not give it a try? Can’t hurt, can it? We’re looking for cool things to do with the space next door. It’s so small that it’ll sit there forever, looking vacant and bringing down my own real estate here. A tea shop. An apothecary. Maybe we can make our own incense, wrap some sage. Get some palo santo wood.” Prinny’s eyes shut in a way Chelsea had seen only a few times but recognized at once.

  She was seeing something. Seeing seeing.

  “In fact, the roof is flat on that property, we could even”—she looked suddenly like she was puzzling something out—“maybe have a garden up there. Grow our own ingredients. Some, at least.” She opened her eyes, then looked slightly embarrassed.

  Prinny always looked apologetic after falling into one of these moments. Visions. Whatever you wanted to call them.

  Chelsea wished she and her boss were closer so she could give her a look that told her it was okay.

  Instead, she shifted her gaze to Diana, who had clearly noticed the slightly unusual brainstorm Prinny had just had.

  “Leif told me about your…”

  “Gift,” Chelsea filled in when she looked for the word.

  “Your gift, yes, he told me about it. I mean, I realize where we are”—she gestured around at the shop—“but I’m not sure if it’s common knowledge that you are the real deal?”

  Prinny laughed. “This would be a bad place to try and keep it secret.”

  Diana smiled. “True.”

  “If you’re going to hang around, get ready to get freaked out sometimes, that’s all I can say.” Chelsea smiled. Her comment loosened up the room a little.

  “Well, if you’re serious, or thirsty, I’ve got a couple of things in my bag here…” She unzipped her purse, suddenly having a bit more energy and enthusiasm than she had walked in with. “Let’s see … I have one for relaxation, one for energy, one for intense stress relief…”

  “Last one sounds pretty great right about now. In, you know, life.” Chelsea laughed.

  “I don’t know about that one. It’s really strong. Strained kava. Think Xanax meets peyote. Not the sort of tea you drink if you want to function at high speed.”

  Chelsea looked at Prinny. Half asking permission, half communicating that their day was basically shot anyhow.

  The rain got louder and heavier, as if on cue. It slammed into the storefront as if it were coming from a collection of fire hoses.

  Prinny shrugged. “My brother is an asshole, and you look like you haven’t gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep in the last month.” This last part was tossed maternally in Chelsea’s direction.

  She simply shrugged. “And I didn’t get Neverland.”

  Prinny stood to turn off the OPEN sign. “Honestly,
too-intense stress relief sounds like something we could all use.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were all sitting in the chairs, clutching steaming ceramic mugs while the rain spit miserably onto the window and sidewalk outside.

  They made small talk about things going on in town recently, but all the while Chelsea was dying to ask what exactly Diana was doing here and what her problem was.

  She wasn’t even halfway through her tea when she started to feel her muscles loosen and untangle. Stress seemed to scatter like tiny beads and then disappear. She felt slack and lazy, but peaceful and awake. Her brain was thinking efficiently and at a pace that didn’t send her tension through the roof. Usually her mind was racing at ten miles a minute, thoughts coming at her in a useless fast-forward. Hard to understand, yet quick to tighten her nerves.

  But right now her brain was ambling at an easy pace. She felt almost like she was floating on a cloud. She had to admit, the tea was strong. Or maybe it was the power of suggestion. Whatever it was, Chelsea really did feel a little drugged. Not in an unpleasant way—she could certainly have walked to the bus stop and made her way home, but she would rather curl up and take a nap. It had been a long time since she’d been this relaxed.

  Whatever it was, she would be buying some.

  Chelsea glanced at the other two. Prinny was staring at the ground, looking thoughtful. Di’s eyes were shut, her brow knitted.

  Chelsea’s inhibitions began to abandon her. She took another sip and asked, “So what is going on, Di?”

  Prinny stiffened.

  Diana opened her eyes and tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”

  “Well … I know the look of someone who’s chewing away on a problem and can’t let go, even in a crowd.” She gestured around them and smiled. “Even a tiny crowd.”

  She certainly did know that feeling. She used to study it. Now she lived it.

  “Chelsea, Di might not want to talk right now—”

  “It’s okay.” Diana mustered a smile. “Are you a psychic as well, or something?”

  Chelsea had to applaud her rallying to make the reference. “I’ve been taught by the best.” She raised her mug to Prinny. “But you don’t need to be psychic to see that you’re seriously sad.”

  “I…” Di managed that single word with some strength, then pressed her lips together while her eyes filled with tears. She raised a shaky hand in front of her face.

  Chelsea immediately felt bad for pushing. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m always wondering what motivates people, but I’m not always as sensitive to that as I should be. Forgive me, please. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. Hell, I’m just glad you’re here! This tea is great, and I bet it’s going to ramp up business hugely.” She was rambling now at full speed. That was her thing: overstep, freak out, then talk spastically to try to obscure the mistake, thereby calling even more attention to it.

  “No, you know what, it’s okay.” Diana took a trembling breath. “I know you’ve probably never heard of me, and suddenly here I am and here, apparently, I’m going to be for a bit, and not only that, I’m this Mournful Mary being a total drag from moment one.” She gave a dry, insincere laugh. “All I need to do is wet my pants to round out the image of being the kid no one was supposed to invite to the party, but…” She shrugged broadly. “Here I am!”

  Chelsea gave her an encouraging look.

  “And…” Diana set down her mug. “And like so many foolish women before me, I fell in love with the wrong man, married him, and I am having a hell of a time getting myself away from him even though he hurts me all the time.”

  “He … hurts you?” Chelsea shot an uncertain glance at Prinny. “Is this, like, kill or be killed? Sleeping with the Enemy?”

  Diana shook her head. “Oh, I’m way more foolish even than that. I simply can’t get myself to leave a man who doesn’t love me.” She shrugged, but tears filled her eyes yet again. “Nothing special about my story, it’s just the same old, same old, same old. Cheating husband, pitiful wife, parade of who knows who.”

  “God,” said Prinny, propping her forehead up with two fingers and looking at Diana.

  “And what’s worse is that I know he isn’t just a jerk.”

  Chelsea braced herself to hear the slew of man-defending excuses she had heard—and given—before.

  Instead, she got something worse. “If he was a jerk who lied because he didn’t care or had gotten in too deep, that would be one thing. It’s worse than that on both sides. I am completely in love with him.”

  Her gaze didn’t lift, but her eyes widened as she stared at the ground. The small room was silent.

  “I am completely in love with him, and he’s somehow not quite human. He doesn’t have the little”—she pinched the air with her fingers—“tiny thing that most people have that prevents them from being that deeply dishonest. It’s not that he doesn’t know better or doesn’t care—although he doesn’t seem to care, either—it’s that he lacks whatever it is that makes human beings think that it matters to be good. He would never want to do the right thing, the good thing. If he did it, and I’m sure he has before, he’d simply find that he felt no differently if he did the right thing or the wrong thing.”

  She looked each of the women in the eye, but they were both struck dumb. Even Di herself seemed to be understanding the depth of this realization for the first time as she spoke it.

  “Jeez,” said Chelsea.

  At the same time Prinny said, “Fucker.”

  Chelsea almost gasped. Not because of the word itself, definitely, but because of the mouth it came from. Prinny was so … well … prim. Proper. Not an F-bomb gal.

  Di shrugged. “It’s not like I’m an idiot—or at least not that kind of idiot. The kind that can’t see what’s right in front of her. I’m the kind of fool who weighed how much I loved him against how much pain I could withstand. Turned out I was exceptionally strong in an exceptionally weak way.”

  There was silence. Not uncomfortable. Just sad.

  Diana shrugged, as if to dismiss the whole subject. “It’s so discouraging how different a person can be when you meet them. Or how different they can appear, anyway.”

  But Chelsea, always in search of motivations, was fascinated. “What was he like when you met him?”

  The question seemed to interest Diana. She thought about it. Pursed her lips and really thought for a moment. Then, simply: “He was everything I ever wanted. That’s it. The big, fundamental things were there. The little things I would have never known to ask for cropped up as surprises. He got me right away, but I’m starting to think that was why all those things existed. He saw what I wanted. He became it. I just don’t know why he even bothered. Or maybe I don’t know why it had to be me.”

  “It would have been some other woman sitting here with us right now,” said Prinny. “It would have been another woman in your place, but only if she was strong enough to get here. Otherwise…”

  Thought filled the room, mixing with the spicy-sweet kava.

  “Let’s just round up all the jerks we’ve ever met,” said Chelsea finally, “put ’em in a room, and let them fight to the death.”

  “And then we can kill the victor.”

  They all laughed, but in the dreamy haze of her mind, Chelsea imagined who she would want dead. She might not have been clairvoyant, but she just knew they were all thinking along the same lines.

  Wouldn’t it be nice to really get revenge?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Diana, Diary Entry, Twelve Years Earlier

  Tonight, I am the happiest I have ever been.

  The middle of October, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a college campus is the height of perfection for me. The skidding of the leaves across the chalk-ridden sidewalks (Vote for So-and-So! Clothes Swap Saturday, 11 A.M.!) and cold wet grass are half the atmosphere, and the pounding bass pulsating from within the surrounding dorms is the rest of it.

  I have never been happier.

  Voi
ces and laughter echo in the air, like I remember summer nights sounding when it was filled with conversations on the neighborhood porches. Except this is college, so there’s a little more shouting, squealing, chanting, flirting …

  Red Solo cups litter these perfectly manicured lawns. And on the wind, there is an undulating current of this beautiful, snaggable opportunity. There is a chill in the air that suggests impending change.

  Ugh. I don’t mean to get poetic on myself. It’s just that every beautiful lyric from every beautiful song or poem I ever heard is coming to me now in full bloom. I keep imagining the beautiful lines—even the stupid clichés—and finally understanding their truth! Ahh …

  See, this is why I have never really kept a diary. Every time I write anything, I end up looking back on it and criticizing it. It feels self-indulgent. Feels like it tries too hard. Why I give myself these criticisms, I’m not sure—it’s not like I would ever allow anyone to read these entries …

  So yeah, I rarely write in this thing. But—as I will obviously already know when I reread this cringe-worthy, love-goggled dribble later—it’s a beautiful, red leather–bound book that sits on my shelf empty and really deserves to be written in. I am not even entirely sure where this book came from anymore. Maybe I got it for Christmas at some point? From someone? One of those nice but sort of “oh, wow, great” kinds of gifts.

  Mom gave it to me, probably. She was always trying to make me more Virginia Woolf and less Clarissa Explains It All.

  As little as I write in it, I do my best to put in my stand-out experiences. There are certain nights you want to remember every aching detail of, even if it makes you cringe to read later on. I feel sure that I will at some point, looking back on this one, because I am a giddy schoolgirl right now. Literally. I am utterly infatuated by a boy in a way that I have absolutely never been.

  I have always been so distant with guys. Never really felt that exquisitely painful pull toward anyone. Which is good, I have always thought. I’ve never been hurt. Never been dumped. Never been heartbroken by someone. I don’t mean to brag about this—I feel lucky and a bit gypped, if I’m honest. Maintaining a steady nothing is ultimately as unrewarding as having intense highs and lows.