“She’ll figure it out,” Mickie said. “And she isn’t going to be happy about it.”
“She has no choice in the matter,” I said. “She can’t get by without me. She can’t do it all by herself.”
“Neither can you,” Mickie said. “You’re exhausted, Sam.”
“It won’t be forever.”
“No? How long will it be for?” Mickie asked.
“I told you, just until I get the store settled and running smoothly.”
Ernie laughed.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“You,” he said. “I talked to Betty today. She raved about what you’ve done. She says the store never ran this smoothly.”
I knew from the numbers that income was up 15 percent, and Frank was filling more than a hundred prescriptions a day. We were so busy, we were discussing bringing in a second pharmacist on our busiest days. And I was making an annual salary that would help make ends meet for my mother and pay all four years’ tuition at Stanford.
“You have a knack for business,” Ernie said.
“I’m meeting with a tax attorney in the morning to create a corporation. Frank wants to buy into it after his six-month probationary period ends,” I said.
Mickie dropped her fork. “Probationary period? Holy shit, Hill, you’ve become a hard-ass.”
“I had to be certain he was the right fit,” I said. “If it works out, his monthly payment will bring in extra money every month, which will help my mother get by when I’m no longer pulling a salary. I’m going to suggest she take over my position, but I’m not sure she’ll do it if it takes her away from my father.”
Ernie wolfed down a slice of cake and pushed back from his chair. “I have to go see Alicia,” he said.
“Jesus, can’t you give it a rest for one night?” Mickie said.
“I wish. She calls me all the time now. She’s afraid I’m going to find someone else and forget about her.”
“You will,” Mickie said.
“Thanks, Mick.” Ernie stood and slipped on his coat. “Maybe I should have you talk to her for me and provide that comforting reassurance.”
After Ernie left we cleared the dishes. Mickie said, “They won’t last three months.”
“Probably not, but did you have to say it?”
“He said it before I said it.”
“He didn’t say that.”
“He didn’t have to say it. It was in his tone and body language. He doesn’t love her.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because I practically grew up here, and I saw what your mother and father have,” she said. “What they have—that’s love.”
I didn’t disagree, and their kind of love seemed more and more rare. I wiped down the table with a rag. “They deserved a lot better than what they got.”
“Yeah, well, life isn’t fair, Sam.”
I threw the rag in the sink. “Thanks. That really cheered me up. Why don’t you just tell me it’s God’s will, like my mother?”
“Because I’m not your mother.”
“No kidding. My mother’s a lot more compassionate than you.”
“What are you looking for, sympathy?”
“Would it be too much to ask? I’m sure not getting any answers from him,” I said, pointing at the ceiling. I was tired of Mickie discounting everyone’s feelings. I knew she had it tough at home, and she seemed to be dealing with it by hardening her heart. “Maybe for once he could show me that he really does have some plan for me, because I’m damn tired of trying to figure it out on my own. My father’s in a goddamn rehabilitation center, where everyone gets excited when he can mumble an understandable word, and my mother doesn’t even know I exist anymore. I went from—”