“And I don’t know what that means, but he doesn’t deserve you, Ames,” she concludes, pursing her lips.
My gaze drops to my hands.
“Well,” Helen sighs, slipping her feet back into her shoes.“I need to rest these old bones, and you have a meeting to go to.”
She pauses at the door, looking back with concern.“Youaregoing to that meeting.”It isn’t a question.
“Yes, yes.I’m going,” I reply with as much conviction as I can muster.
She hesitates, squinting at me.
“I promise,” I add quickly.
Helen nods, still not fully convinced.
She turns and leaves.“See you tomorrow!”I hear her yell back from the end of the hallway.
TWELVE
THE LAST OF the lights click off in the back, plunging the café into a silence that’s both familiar and unsettling.It’s just me now, alone in the space that Mary built.
The space I made my own.
The space I might lose.
I switch the sign on the front door to ‘Closed’ and turn back to survey the empty room.The only sound is the hum of the refrigerator, a constant drone that is suddenly deafening.The chairs are stacked upside down on the tables.The floor swept.Everything is in its place, ready for another day.
But how many more days?
I walk back to the counter, my footsteps echoing in the stillness, and run a hand over the smooth, worn wood.My gaze settles on a small, almost imperceptible knot in the grain, near where Helen usually sits on the nights we shared a bottle of Merlot with Mary.
The memory hits with an ache.
It was late, long after closing.The café was dimly lit.Only a single lamp above the counter illuminated the space, casting long shadows on the stacked chairs.The air was thick with the aroma of fresh blueberry muffins.
Mary, Helen, and I were huddled around the counter, a bottle of Merlot half-empty between us.We were laughing, a boisterous sound.
Helen was telling a story, her hands flying, about a disastrous date.Mary and I hung on every word, tears of laughter streaming down our faces.
“And then,” Helen gasped, barely able to speak.“He tried to pay with a coupon!Like the whole dinner wasn’t awkward enough.A coupon on a first date!”
Mary slammed her hand on the countertop.“No!A coupon?!”She let out a low whistle.“That man just sank to a new low.”
I clutched my stomach, a sharp stitch of laughter in my side.The warmth spreading through me wasn’t just the alcohol; it was deeper.It was a sense of connection that had settled in my chest.
I remember the feeling perfectly.This is what it meant to belong.This messy, imperfect, beautiful connection.
Mary raised her glass.“To us,” she said, her voice soft but firm.“To Helen surviving another awful date, and to the best damn coffee shop family a girl could ask for.”
Helen and I clinked our glasses against hers.Without a word, our eyes met… a shared understanding.A bond forged in laughter and late nights.
I trace the knot in the wood with my fingertip, the swirling pattern a tangible reminder of that night.Of the laughter, the camaraderie, the unwavering support.
So many memories here.So many hours poured into this place.
Mary’s lighthearted nature.
Lou’s loyalty.
