It’s a beautiful fall day. The sun shines through the yellow, orange, and brown leaves making the trees look like they’re glowing from within. The whole town square has been blocked off from traffic, the streets surrounding the square filling with booths as people work to ready themselves for tonight.
My feet crunch on fallen leaves as I come to a stop next to Sammie. “Long time, no see,” I say, holding out her coffee.
Her eyes widen as she spots what I offer, gratefully taking it. “Oh my god, thank you. You’re truly the best.” She takes a sip and closes her eyes, humming appreciatively.
“How’s everything going out here?” Levi unloads another hay bale from his truck, placing it next to the one Sammie points at.
“We’re down to the final touches. I keep telling myself that next year things won’t be as crazy because we’ll already have everything made and figured out, but it’s still stressful.”
“At least you didn’t get trapped in a glowing ornament,” I tease with an elbow nudge. Sammie snorts, her shoulders lifting in acceptance. Her fiasco last Christmas is one of my favorite stories. “It looks good though. I think everyone’s going to have a blast this weekend.”
“Thanks. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without my partner in crime.” Sammie’s voice gradually grows louder, her words traveling not so subtly to Levi where he tosses the last bale of hay onto the pile.
“Partner in crime is better than an assistant.” Levi wipes the sweat off his brow and I hold out the warm coffee to my friend. He offers thanks and takes a sip. His eyebrows scrunch together as he looks at me. “You doing okay, Cara?” Levi has known me for most of my life and since we grew up together, he’s able to see through whatever bullshit facade I put on.
Sammie’s head whips to me, her green eyes wide and full of concern. “He’s right.” She looks at me like she’s never seen me before, no doubt noticing the dark bags under my eyes. “What’s going on?” Immediately Sammie goes from event coordinator to caring friend. A warm hand rests on my shoulder and that soothing touch breaks the dam I’ve placed on my emotions. I turn away from her, trying to block out the embarrassment of crying in public.
Her arms wrap around my shoulder, guiding me past Levi to the discarded hay bales. “It’s stupid,” I scoff, angrily swiping atwayward tears. “It’s about Smith. Old history was dragged back up yesterday and now my feelings are going haywire.” I sniffle and look up at the light blue sky, willing the tears to dry up.
Sammie rubs a hand down my back. I called her the night Smith came into town and filled her in on the situation, so thankfully she doesn’t make me go into detail. “Do you want to talk about it?” For some reason, this question makes me pause.
Do I want to talk about it?
Half of me thinks, fuck it, talk it out and move on with life. But the other half? The other half is a giant flashing neon sign with the word no blinking rhythmically. I’m not even sureIknow what to talk about. Smith? My feelings? Why I left? All those questions seem to swirl together in my mind creating a dark whirlpool that leads down into the unknown.
“I think,” I stutter, letting out a long breath. “I think I need to figure it out for myself.” Levi starts pounding a rubber mallet on a giant wooden pumpkin across the square drawing both of our attention. The hum of volunteers working to get everything set up for tonight seems to grow louder, the quiet bubble around us popping. Sammie’s hand stops moving in comforting strokes down my back and I chuckle. “You’re dying to get over there, aren’t you?”
She rolls her eyes, but we both know the truth—she’s a workaholic, especially when she has a project like this to focus on. We sit together on our makeshift bench for several more minutes, never once bringing up the fact that I’m currently an emotional wreck. We part with a quick hug before she jogs over to Levi and picks up the nail gun.
The crowd at the coffee shop has slowed down, both Eileen and Jessie assure me that they don’t need my help and can run the front of the shop.
Numbers, figures, and spreadsheets engulf me in their snare as I work on the financial side of owning a small business. Myoffice is small, just large enough for a desk and some nice but functional shelving. The dull red brick becomes my cocoon from the outside world where everything but business fades into the background. Even my thoughts about Smith sink into the back of my mind, the emotions no longer on the forefront, but still there nonetheless. Hours seem to pass in minutes as I bury myself in long-overdue work. At some point, one of the girls brought me a sandwich to keep me from starving.
A gentle knock raps on the door, pulling me out of the numbers and back into reality. “Cara,” my office door creeps open and Jessie pops her head in. “Hey, sorry to interrupt,” her face forms a nervous grimace.
“You’re not interrupting,” I assure her, rubbing my weary eyes. “How’s everything going?”
Jessie opens the door even more, keeping her hand on the knob. “I was just letting you know the festival has started, so Eileen and I have closed down the shop.” The day has flown by and if I listen hard enough, soft music from the festival leaks in through the wall.
“You guys are the best. Thank you.” The leather chair squeaks against my back as I let myself relax into it.
“Will you be going to the festival?” Her question is innocent enough, but Smith’s face flashes in my mind.
He’s going to be there. And then he’s gone.
“Um, for a bit.”
“Well, I’ll see you there.” She gives a quick wave before ducking out the door, closing it gently behind her.
I take my time shutting things down doing my best to avoid running into Smith. The Fall Festival has been an exciting event for months, and now that it’s finally here, I’m dreading going.
And it’s all because I can’t be honest with myself. Honest with him.
The orange glow of an autumn sunset filters in through the windows coating everything in its coral and marigold rays. Beyond them, a bustle of people floods the town square, all with smiles on their faces. Little children walk around with their faces painted, couples share pumpkin pie slices, and buy little knick-knacks from booths. Families gather together to take pictures in front of the giant display of pumpkins that Levi and Sammie made, the towering wooden pumpkin almost as tall as the gazebo, with real pumpkins sitting on wide ledges, the changing leaves of the trees acting as a backdrop.
Yet here I stand, looking through the window, unable to bring myself to go beyond these walls. The visual I’ve painted in my head is a vicious sort of irony. Hasn’t Smith been the one I’ve locked away all these years, kept inside a small box, shut in behind walls in my mind? Isn’t he the one who’s been standing at the window to my heart and begging for me to let him back in?
Memories from six years ago mix with new memories from this week as I stand and look out at the festival. Me sitting on his couch reading a book while he worked on an article, us driving around the lake with the windows down and music blaring, Smith coming home to find me in his bed, and the wicked grin he would get at the sight. Nothing about our time together was bad or full of problems. We were completely in love.
