We talked about our plans for the future, and I fretted over my placement. I’d received an email from my program advisor that there was unfortunately no space for me at the other three places I’d applied to. She encouraged me to keep applying at music-based businesses and sent a list of recommended places.
It looked like I was going to have to broaden my search and look farther than Halifax for a placement.
“Why don’t you ask Don Keefer if you can do your placement at Harmony Waves?” Dare had suggested, and the idea immediately appealed to me. I hemmed and hawed over how to approach him, but Dare told me to just call him and tell him my situation. “Seems like he could use the extra help right now, anyway,” he’d pointed out, referring to Don’s sick wife.
With him coaching me, I made the phone call. Don was surprised by my idea and admitted he could use the help but “had never done college co-ops before.” I assured him it was a fairly easy process and offered to email him with the information packet.
Once that call was out of the way, we stopped for takeout at a small local restaurant in Chester and ate our food on the beachfront as we watched the waves crash against the dark shoreline. I was unusually quiet as I picked at the crust on my deli-sandwich.
There was still one thing on my mind. Despite my efforts to push it aside, it lingered like a bad smell.
My insecurities came out then, stealing my appetite. Dare had noticed the sudden change and asked me what was bothering me. The puzzle that was the waitress and her son. I figured if I couldn’t be honest with him about my fears, imagined or otherwise, how could I be honest with everyone else?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” he’d answered, looking at me expectantly.
“Do you know that waitress?”
“What waitress?” Dare asked, noticeably confused.
“The one from the diner…the one whose son is friends with Asher. Do you know her?” I asked again.
“Not any more than you do.” Dare shrugged. “Why?”
“She seems standoffish and angry…specifically at my family.” I’d frowned, trying to work out why someone we didn’t even know would respond to us that way.
Dare shook his head. “I figured her unfriendliness was just a part of her personality. Some people are just like that. Try not to worry, Connor.”
“Something tells me there’s something going on there,” I admitted, pausing to think. “I just can’t place my finger on what.”
“You’ve got enough on your plate right now; I wouldn’t lose any sleep over an unfriendly waitress.”
Apparently though, Iwaslosing sleep over an unfriendly waitress. My sleep had been disturbed by unsettling nightmares involving storms and chaos and…the waitress. Her unyielding blue eyes flashing with familiarity and intent.
But though the details of the dream had faded as soon as I’d opened my eyes, the uncomfortable feeling I had remained.
I reached for my phone, seeing I had several missed texts from Lara, all of them talking about how excited she was for me to finally be returning to school later that day.
Part of me was going to miss the easy access to Dare, but I was more than looking forward to a break from all the tension in the house. I had a week of exams, then two days of meetings with my program advisor before my placement was due to start.
I couldn’t wait until I graduated, but as the date loomed closer, I warred with how to come clean about everything. It’d probably be better to take baby steps, telling Mom before Dad and Calum before either of them.
Just…not right now. I wanted to get through our first family brunch in over a decade before I brought anymore potential drama to the table. A part of me was worried it would feel strange and contrived, but for Mom’s sake…I just hoped Dad and Calum played nice with each other.
Before going downstairs, I showered and dressed for the day. Then I packed my things, placing my duffle bag and laptop bag neatly on top of the old wooden Chesterfield trunk at the end of my bed.
The trunk had been Nan’s hope chest when she married Gramps, and it was filled with their wedding linens and Nan’s old wedding gown. Mom had passed it on to me on my sixteenth birthday.
I rarely opened the trunk, too afraid to mess up the priceless treasures within, but sometimes when I was feeling nostalgic, I’d crack it open and thumb through Nan’s most treasured items. The old stack of letters from Gramps’s touring days, clippings from a newspaper of their wedding and Mom’s birth announcements, the various trinkets Gramps had given her over the years for their anniversaries and her birthdays.
Once I was packed, I made my way downstairs to find my parents in the kitchen. Dad was manning the bacon and sausage while Mom flipped pancakes. The coffee pot was full of freshly brewed coffee, so I wandered over and helped myself.
“Morning. What time is everyone supposed to get here?” I asked, treating my coffee to an unhealthy dose of cream and sugar.
“Within the next hour,” Mom replied, sending me a smile over her shoulder. “How’d you sleep last night?”
“Pretty good,” I lied, a smile settling on my lips. “What about you guys?”
