I took my coffee and bun to the bench and prepared to wait. Not as long this time. The minute Candy left, I’d go back for another coffee so I could get a look at the woman.
It was ridiculous. I still couldn’t explain the reason for my urgency. It was just there. I’d learned enough over time to just go with these instincts. This wasn’t the first time I’d gotten a little obsessed. It had happened a few times since I’d been out of prison.
A young woman with blond hair whom I’d caught in my peripheral vision made me stop what I was doing and follow her. Only to find out a couple minutes later, once I could see her clearly, she wasn’t Ash.
Another time, I followed a woman around a grocery store in North Carolina because I was convinced I’d heard her taking a hit on an inhaler. That wheezing sound, which I’d grown so familiar with around Ash, had penetrated my subconscious.
It had just been a woman with a cold.
This was no different. Sitting on a bench and waiting to see a woman, just to prove to myself she wasn’t Ash.
I wondered how long this would go on. How long was I going to wander around, always seeing faint hints of her until my brain caught up with the fact that I was never going to see her again?
A car pulled into the mall parking lot and I could see it was the redhead. She got out of the car, then opened the back door to pull out a sack of what I imagined were baking supplies.
This time, she wore jeans that rolled to her ankles, and a different T-shirt. I had the same impression as I had yesterday. Young. Waifish. She certainly didn’t eat a lot of what she baked. A few minutes after she entered the store, Candy left.
I waited a few more minutes, then I rose and crossed the street. The bell over the door rang to announce my presence. Any second, she would come out from the kitchen. Any second, the door would open, and I would see that, while she had Ash’s nose and chin, she looked entirely different. Any second, I would feel that hopeless sense of grief because the person who’d been part of me for so long was gone forever.
“Hi. Can I help—”
Her words stopped abruptly when she saw me. Her entire body froze.
It took almost a full minute for me to breathe. A minute for my brain to make sense of what I was seeing. This was an illusion. Some trick of the mind. I didn’t need a grief therapist to explain it.
But all the other times I’d seen those women who reminded me of Ash. Heard sounds that reminded me of Ash. Every time I confronted that person, it wasn’t Ash.
This was different.
This was Ash. Ashleigh Landen, standing frozen behind a counter of cupcakes, with short red hair and eyes so blue they hurt to look at them. I had this thought I should apologize to her. To tell her I was sorry for replacing what must be her true face, with the face of someone else.
Only I never got that chance. Because the next thing she said was…
“Marc.”
