Bess
Not bothering to look up when the bells above the diner door chimed, I heard, “What the hell are you doing here?” The tone was gruff, and a waft of cigarette smoke and Jim Beam hit my nose.
“Um, working,” I said as I looked up into AJ’s angry face. “The question is, what are you doing, AJ?” I stepped back, giving myself some fresh air.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting a coffee,” he said with a snarl.
Concerned that he’d been drinking, I tried to bring my palm up to his face to touch the man who had saved me years before, but he slapped it out of the way with his own rough and heavy hand.
“AJ, what are you doing to yourself?”
“I’m getting a coffee, Bess,” he answered, my name coming out long and slurred.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know what I mean.”
“Why don’t you get me a large coffee to go. And while you’re at it,” he sneered, “you can tell me why you’re working in this shithole of a diner when you have a cushy job over at the WildFlower. You slumming it again? Like when you gave me a whirl in bed?”
I turned around to the coffeemaker and grabbed a Styrofoam cup, filling it as I willed myself not to cry. I closed my eyes tightly for a moment, pulling air in and out of my nose.
Whipping back around, I handed AJ the coffee and said, “No charge, it’s on me,” before moving toward the kitchen.
Once behind the swinging doors, I ignored the light film of grease covering the linoleum floor and slid down to sit on the dirty piece of shit, dropping my head between my knees as I gulped for air.
I’d picked up a shift or two per week at the diner over the last month, ever since the day Lane left. The emotional bruises were taking much longer to heal than the physical, and I found even one day off work a week was too much time to be alone with my thoughts.
By chance, I’d hobbled into the diner the morning after Lane ran away, hoping for coffee and a hug from Shirley. She’d been short a waitress, and since I was off work that day, I filled in.
Sadly, I didn’t do a good job of hiding my injury, and ended up at Doc Riley’s after painfully serving breakfast to locals and tourists who wanted real rural flavor. The gentle gray-haired man assured me that my rib was bruised—not broken—and since I was an addict they preferred not to prescribe pain pills for, I just needed to grin and bear it.
Shirley had run home and retrieved a hot pack, which she wrapped tightly around my middle with a bandage, and tucked me into bed with a steaming mug of tea and Brooks. Then she’d sat on the side of my bed, stroking my hair as she made false promises that everything would get better.
Much like she was doing now on the kitchen floor of the diner.
Shirley slid down next to me. “Come on, girl. He’s a big boy. When he wants help, he’ll get it. No one knows the program better than AJ, honey. He knows we can’t offer him help when he isn’t willing to accept it. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. Me and one of his buddies.”
My heart breaking, I sniffed back my tears and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Aw, Bess,” she said and grabbed my hand, squeezing my knuckles. “You’ve had so much on your plate, I didn’t want to trouble you any more than I had to. With Lane gone and your side injured and the way you were pushing yourself at your other job—not taking any sick days even when I told you to—I couldn’t let you know about this.”
I leaned my head against her shoulder. “But it’s my fault. Everything.”
“This is not your burden, Bess. AJ should have never messed with you; he knew that. You were his responsibility to be there for in times of need, not sex. If he confused it all, that’s on him.”
“But I participated, Shirl. Ugh, And Lane. He was helpless, flailing in the bed, all tangled up in the sheets, screaming, and I couldn’t even figure out what to do for him. I’m such a failure at anything but this ridiculous life of mine with nothing but work. And it’s not even meaningful work.”
“There’s nothing you could do for Lane, honey. He just needs time.”
“How do you know?” I practically wailed. “You’ve never even met him. It seemed pretty final when he walked out ... ran out with his boots in his hand, his button fly open.”
“You’ll just have to trust me on this one,” Shirley said as she ran her hand soothingly down my arm. “Go home, sweetie. Get a warm bath, take a rest. I’ll call you later.”
There was no rest in the cards for me, though, because as I pulled down my gravel drive, I saw a courier waiting for me in front of my house. Slamming my car into park next to his vehicle, I began to wonder how much more I could take today.
“Can I help you?” I yelled as I walked toward the truck.
“Delivery, ma’am,” the guy in the uniform said, stepping out of the truck.
“For who?” I asked foolishly. I didn’t get deliveries except from ... Lane. This must be a mistake.
