Nanny for the Army Rangers by Krista Wolf
Four
DELILAH
“Well what about half the rent,” I sighed, seething on the inside. “Can you at least swing that?”
From the couch, Traci dismissed me with the wave of her hand. I’d seen the move so many times I could mimic it perfectly.
“The old man will give us another week,” she called back. “He always does.”
The ‘old man’ she was referring to was our landlord, who unfortunately lived just upstairs. Working as much as I did, I was usually the one to deal with him. Traci rarely saw the man, and refused to answer the door on the rare occasions he did come down.
“Besides,” she added, “he doesn’t even need the money. Did you see that Escalade in his driveway? He’s got plenty.”
God, did she really just say that? I was sharing an apartment with the world’s most immature twenty-five year-old.
“If we don’t pay, he’s gonna throw us out,” I reiterated. “It won’t be hard, Traci. We don’t even have a lease.”
“He can’t throw us out,” Traci countered. “He has to go through the entire eviction process.”
I sighed so hard my side began hurting again. Fuck, why in the world did I ever agree to move in with this idiot?
“Oh relax, Delilah,” my roommate smiled, adding a musical chuckle to help smooth things over. “I’ll get the rent. Don’t worry.”
“When? A week before next month is due?”
“Nah. I need to see Mark first, that’s all,” she said confidently. “He and I have been going at it like crazy lately. Did you see all the flowers he sent me?”
See them? They practically took over the kitchen! There had to be six or seven bouquets, of all different shapes, sizes, and varieties. It looked like a florist’s shop threw up all over a shitty basement apartment. I had to admit, the place smelled awesome though.
“Instead of spending hundreds of dollars on flowers that’ll be dead by next week,” I theorized, “maybe your boyfriend could spot you that money, and bring you current with what you owe?”
The commercials were over, and Traci had already gone back to watching television. When she turned to look back at me again, she looked annoyed.
“Wait, do what now?”
Do what now…The saying was so stupid I absolutely hated it! Over time, Traci’s favorite saying had become my Kryptonite.
“Forget it,” I sighed angrily. I was extra cranky today, probably because my ribs were acting up and I refused to take pain meds. “But hey, can you at least move some of this stuff over? I need the table.”
“You can go ahead and move it,” Traci called back lazily. “Just shove it to the side.”
Sweeping my arm, I cleared a spot on the dull yellow Formica so I could get to work filling out some bills. As I did, a handwritten card dropped from one of the bouquets and hit me in the hand.
Ugh,I snarled internally, willing myself not to read it (though I knew I would anyway). The last thing I need right now is some stupid, cheesy—
I stopped and blinked. The card wasn’t for Traci at all. It was addressed to me.
“Traci?”
“Yeah?”
“Who did you say these flowers were from?”
With one arm still draped over the couch, my roommate lifted another spoonful of ice cream to her face. “Mark got them for me.”
“You sure about that?”
“Pretty sure,” she shrugged. “I mean, I didn’t actually ask him, I only thanked him for—”
I ignored the rest of her sentence and flipped the card over. It was addressed directly to me, with a return address of Southampton hospital. A quick check of the other bouquets showed they all came from the same florist. They were all for me.
What the hell?
It took only a moment to call the hospital’s main number and get transferred to someone on the emergency floor. After being passed from person to person three times, I arrived at a woman named Rose.
“Yes, I was the one who forwarded you the flowers,” Rose said happily. “Pretty, weren’t they?”
“They are,” I agreed. “But… why?”
“Well they were originally for you, sweetie. Got brought in right after you left. The men who dropped them off were very upset they’d missed you. I promised to find your info and forward them on.”
I whirled around. Traci was still watching television, totally oblivious.
“Did these men leave their info?” I asked quickly.
“No,” Rose said thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. But you could always call the florist. I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”
“Yes, of course,” I said, my excitement rising. “Thanks Rose.”
“Feel better, honey.”