“From what I can see, except for the restaurant, you’re avoiding talking about your mom as a person. And I can understand. I went through that too. It’s just that journaling helped me a lot. It was suggested to me by my therapist, and while I was skeptical, it helped me unravel and address some of my emotions.” He inclined his head to the book. “I got you one in case it might help you too.”
I stared at him, feeling a flood of disbelief. I’d spent months learning to edge out of conversations about my mom. It had been easy so far—I had to just deflect to the restaurant, and people would go with it. I’d mastered the art of looking like I wasn’t hurting when I was pining in plain view. And for the first time, someone was calling me out on it.
Carolyn walked out of the back room, sparing me a need to respond. I didn’t want a grief journal. I didn’t want to think about those painful memories.
Desmond nodded at the two of us, and after wishing us a good day, he walked away.
“What’s that?” Carolyn asked, her gaze going to the book on the counter.
“It’s a book,” I said, flicking through the pages again.
How could Desmond know I wasn’t coping well with my grief by meeting me just once?
“It’s empty,” Carolyn said, her voice dry.
I looked up and met her eyes. “Exactly my point,” I said, and we grinned in companionable silence.
I stashed the book in my work cubby in the back room, and the rest of my hour passed by uneventfully. When I closed up the shop with Carolyn at five, I was looking forward to curling up in my bed with a good book.
I’d heard from the contractor tasked with remodeling the restaurant, and he said that specific fixtures for the interior weren’t available, so the restaurant opening would be delayed by a few weeks until that was resolved. Which meant I needed to make myself comfortable at Luxe Hotels. I’d be working here longer than planned while waiting for the restaurant to reopen.
“Let me know how your yoga class goes, won’t you, Carolyn?” I asked as the two of us walked down the front steps of Luxe Hotels’ headquarters together. “Perhaps yoga is something I should explore.” It was something that didn’t involve talking about Mom at the very least.
A cool evening breeze swirled around gently as Carolyn nodded. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” she said, waving goodbye. “Hank, the yoga teacher, is super handsome. At twenty-eight, he’s a little young for me, but you might take a fancy to him,” she said with a wink before she turned and walked away to the parking garage.
I looked down the long street, where early darkness was just settling in, and drew in a deep breath. I hadn’t considered dating again, but Carolyn liked to use every opportunityto remind me that I ought to get out there and socialize.
I walked onto the quiet street, thinking back to my last conversation with Desmond. I wondered who he’d be taking to that party, and for a second, I let myself imagine what Desmond and I would look like, walking into a party, hand in hand.
When that image was fully formed in my head, I drew a sharp breath. I felt a twinge of something, and for the first time, I realized there was a tiny part of me that was longing for him again. A tiny part that had never given up in the years we spent apart.
I shook my head and stopped walking. That was a fantasy, one that wouldn’t happen. I needed to put that thought out of my mind before it had a chance to linger and take up permanent space.
Focusing on the pavement under my feet, I resumed walking when I heard a sound. I squinted in the darkness when I heard a scuffle and shouts and saw a man, who, at first sight, seemed to be in his mid-twenties. He had on a shiny jacket and large-rimmed glasses with sparkly edges.
That shiny jacket. I recognized him at once as one of our customers at The Java Hobby. Just as the man came into view, strangely enough running in these clothes, I saw he was being chased by three other young men, roughly in their late teens.
As I observed, they attacked the man, pushing him into the ditch, accompanied by yells. There were jeers and, “Take that, you wimp,” and, “Laugh like a girl. Go on. We’ve heard you. Laugh.”
They pinned him down, and he was gasping for breath. I could only hear hoarse noises from him. They were going to kill him.
I hunted in my bag for my pepper spray and cursed when I came up empty. I looked around the street to find something that I could use to help protect the man. A small rock, perhaps, to hit them with? The street was bare, and when I turned back to the building, I couldn’t see anyone walking out who could help. I had to rely on myself.
I saw a car parked by the curb, and remembering a trick Kyle had used a long time ago, I rammed my body by the side door. That did it. The car alarm beeped loudly, setting off a large cacophony, and the three men stopped what they were doing and turned around.
I did see the landscaping and the small plants by the side of the wall and ran up. I picked up a ten-inch landscape rock and then looked at the men at least ten feet away from me.
I held the rock above my head and took two ominous steps toward them.
“I played on my high school’s varsity basketball team,” I lied. “And I aim very well. Want to find out?”
I pulled my arm back and narrowed my eyes as I braced myself for a throw.
They hesitated, and with a quick look at the fallen man, they ran in the opposite direction.
My knees were wobbly, and I was close to falling down in relief. Putting the rock down, I walked up to the man on the pavement, who was thankfully trying to sit up and nursing his neck.
“I thought they were going to kill you,” I said amid the blaring alarm of the car.
