She glances at the time. “I have to go get my coat!” she exclaims, rushing off. And I take my place among the tables, ready to serve as usual.
Camille better send photos.
I wave her goodbye one more time before she hurriedly makes her way out.
***
As I hurriedly wait tables, my eyes catch sight of Camille’s phone, innocently sitting on the counter. Panic immediately grips my heart—she can’t be without it—how will she get the photos she’s so excited about? Or get home? It’s simply a catastrophe waiting to happen.
Reluctantly, I approach the counter and pick up the phone. I hesitate for a moment, contemplating the invasion of privacy I’m about to commit. Is this a crime?Oh well if it is, I eventually decide. I tap the screen and put in the password. The lock code is easy enough—her birthday. Camille isn’t exactly subtle.
Scrolling through her notes, I quickly find her system of organization: “Not important”, “Kinda important”, “Important”, and, finally, “Mega important”. I can’t help but grin.
With trembling fingers, I tap on the “Mega important” note. The screen changes and relief washes over me as the addressappears before my eyes. Clutching the precious information, I race back to the café counter, my heart pounding in my chest, where Rick is already watching me with a knowing smile.
Breathless, I approach Rick, attempting to explain the situation. “Rick, Camille forgot her phone, and she really needs it, and—”
“Sheforgotit?”
I nod, breathless. “She needs it. I have to—”
He holds up a hand, cutting off my rambling. “I get it. Go ahead. But before you run…”
He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a few notes and handing them to me. “Take a cab.”
Caught off guard, I stammer, “I—Rick, I can’t—”
“You weren’t planning to sprint there in those shoes, were you?”
Can’t say I wasn’t…
“Take it,” he insists. “You can pay me back later.”
With a grateful smile, I take the cash and dash out the door, Camille’s phone in hand.
FOURTEEN
Rule Number Eleven ofAdeline’s Guide to Overcoming Loneliness:Adeline, don’t be afraid to let yourself be seen. Hiding protects you, but it also keeps the world from finding you. It’s worth trying to step into the light, little by little. The world can’t meet the real you unless you show up.
I spot an approaching minicab and can’t resist calling out for it. “Taxi!” I yell, much louder than I intended.
To my relief, the vehicle screeches to a halt just in front of me. I hurriedly climb into the backseat. I sit stiffly, trying to focus on my breathing. Cars make me uneasy—have done ever since. And now I’m back in one. My fingers clutch Camille’s phone tighter, but I manage a tight smile.
The driver, a middle-aged man with a bemused expression, glances at me through the rearview mirror. “Where are you
headed?” the driver asks, his tone flat.
I rummage through the phone again, retrieving the address from Camille’s notes. Without hesitation, I hold up the phone, displaying the address to the driver. His eyes widen, an unmistakable look of surprise crossing his face. His eyes dart from the screen to me, or more specifically, my footwear.
“What?” I blurt out, then with sudden realisation an “Oh” escapes my lips. I clearly don’t look like I should be attending such an event. “I’m not invited or anything,” I reassure him. Oddly enough, my reassurance seems to concern the man evenmore. His brow furrows, clearly puzzled by the situation. His lips press into a thin line, and the silence stretches.
“Sooo…” I venture, trying to fill the awkward void. “I’m Adeline. Not that you asked, but, you know, just in case.”
The driver blinks at me through the mirror, unimpressed. “Brian,” he says curtly.
I can’t help it. I almost laugh. Of course, his name is Brian. He looks like a Brian if there ever was one.
“So, Brian,” I begin, my words tumbling out before I can stop them, “how long have you been a cab driver?”
