Mary's Bones

NINETEEN

My head had been filled with thoughts of Jeremiah and Tiffany these past couple of days. I hated every second of it.

The man pissed me off to no extent. With his annoying charm. His wicked smile. And his condescending tone. I was going to have to bear with all of that again later. It hadn't taken long for us to agree on meeting terms for our interview. The next day, after I left their home, I received a call from him. It was awful.

My skin shriveled under his voice. It felt as though he'd been patronizing me.

My hand clenched around the pencil I used to scribble across the canvas. "Who does that jerk think he is? Pitiful coward," I spat under my breath.

"Um, Angie are you okay?" Evelyn's voice caused me to stop.

"Huh?" I snapped out of my daze, looking at her through my lashes.

She held a sheepish smile, glancing between me, my pencil, and the other few ladies that caught sight of what I was doing. One of them, Bishop Iverson, had an eyebrow quirked. Her thin glossy lips pulled at the corners in a smirk as if she could feel me fuming. She obviously thought it was amusing.

"Oh shit." I chuckled nervously and threw my pencil to the side. "Excuse my profanity ladies. Sorry about that."

"It's okay. We thought something might've been wrong. You've been mumbling under your breath for the past few minutes now and you look tense," Evelyn said.

I let loose a groan, folding my hands over my shoulders. "Do I?"

"You do," Bishop butted in. "You should take your own advice some time, Angie: release your stress onto your canvas board, not your baby!" Hums of agreement went around the room.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. A playful smile pulled at my lips. "Thanks, girls. Since when did you all become therapists? I think that's enough for today anyway. Let's call it a day, yeah ladies?"

There were over a few yeses across the room, exchanged with laughter. The heavy feeling in my chest settled as I inhaled. Wow, I hadn't realized how much I needed that deep breath. It felt as though I'd just released loads of pent-up stress.

"Hey, Evelyn! Can I speak with you?" I caught her just before she exited the room. She paused and glanced back over her shoulder, eyebrows knitted together.

"Yes, Angie?" she asked.

I stood from my seat, jogging towards her with a flyer in hand. "I hear the yoga classes will be starting back up on the second floor sometime this week. If you're up for it, I thought I'd invite you along. We can grab a bite to eat after."

She tore the flier from my hands, her eyes scanning the words. "Really? You want to hang out with me!? Is it okay? Are you sure you don't want to take John? You know, because he's your husband and all." Her words practically vomited from her mouth. When she saw my hand raise, her rambling ended.

"Evelyn, I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't want to."

She released a bubble of laughter. "I guess you're right. Well then, yes! You can count me in! Wait, can we go after my doctor's appointment though? I won't be able to make it to the morning session." She frowned.

"Oh? You have an appointment with your obstetrician? Is everything alright? Or is this just a checkup?"

"No"—she shook her head—"it's neither of those. It's a different appointment. Darn. I forgot what it's called. But! My grandfather's going to take me, then I'll ask him to drop me here. Is that alright?"

I was stuck on the fact her grandfather was attending her appointments with her. What kind of appointment could this have been that she needed him there? I could have been overthinking it. Perhaps he was just her ride back and forth. Last time I checked; Evelyn didn't own a car. She mostly took the bus here and there if her grandparents, or Ivan hadn't been driving her.