The woman glanced back, giving her a confused smile before walking away. (Granted, that could’ve just been how the woman’s regular smile looked, but there’s really no other way to respond to a sopping-wet stranger yelling “It’s morning!” at you than with confusion.)
Amie shook puddle water from her arm, wiping it on the drier side of her shirt. She briefly contemplated giving up and heading back to her apartment to hide under the covers for the rest of the day, or maybe forever. But the trip back to her building felt just as daunting as her remaining journey to the coffee shop, and at least the latter held the potential of a long-awaited blueberry bagel.
Steeling herself, Amie continued down the sidewalk.Just be normal.
The rest of her outing was not, despite her best efforts, normal. Amie found herself swerving away from people she passed on the sidewalk, heart jumping into her throat any time someone so much as looked at her. She almost bowled over a man sweeping in front of a store when a motorcycle roared down the street. An unsuspecting pigeon nearly got kicked in the head when it fluttered down to land by her shoes.
“Sorry,” Amie whispered to the pigeon as she shuffled around it.
Just when she thought she’d overcome every obstacle between her and her destination, she was confronted by the final boss: policetape, blocking the sidewalk ahead of her. An officer stood by the building holding one end of the tape, which was wrapped around a telephone pole and street sign to cordon off the sidewalk in front of the caféand the bookshop next door.
Amie stopped, her shoulders slumping with defeat as she kept herself from groaning out loud. She was so preoccupied with her disheartenment that she wasn’t even startled when someone walked right past her and up to the cop. Thankfully, she wasn’t so preoccupied as to not notice them exchange a few words before the officer stepped aside, allowing the person to enter the café.
Is it open or not?Amie wondered, taking a few curious steps forward. Then she stopped. She knew all she had to do was ask the officer if she could go inside or not, but for some reason she just couldn’t come up with the words.
The cop finally saw her—which wasn’t too impressive a feat, as she was standing frozen in the middle of the sidewalk with what she could only imagine was a very distressed look on her face.
“You gotta go around,” the officer called to her. “Or are you trying to get to the café?”
Amie nodded, finding herself still capable of answering yes or no questions.
The cop stepped to the side, leaving a space for her to walk through. “Go ahead.”
Amie’s feet instinctually began moving, having been given a clear direction. She kept her gaze on the ground as she passed the officer, pulled the door open, and slipped inside.
Finally, she had made it to Eons Café. The line at the counter was much shorter than it had been on September 17, like a peace offering from the universe. (Although it was more likely due to the police tape that made it seem as if the business was closed.) Amie automatically made a beeline for the napkins before remembering that there probably wouldn’t be a spill to clean up this time. Considering the trajectory of her morning so far, though, it wasn’t completely out of the question.
As she took her spot at the back of the line, she exhaled heavily.“Do you have blueberry bagels today?”she rehearsed in her head, craning her neck to try to see the selection of baked goods in the glass display.
Moving up with the line, Amie spotted them—the blueberry bagels. A smile began to grow on her face. She knew she probably looked strange, smiling at a bunch of bagels, but she didn’t care. It was like a beam of light was shining down from the heavens, illuminating the basket in the display that had been empty for seven hundred and sixty-ish September 17ths.
“Hey there,” the barista greeted Amie cheerfully as she stepped up. Jess had short brown hair with matching brown eyes, had knowingly taken Amie’s order over three hundred times, and hadunknowinglytaken it seven hundred and sixty-ish times on top of that.
“Go for a swim this morning?” they asked.
Amie’s mouth hung open. She’d been ready to ask about the blueberry bagels, but this unexpected question swiftly undid all of her work in rehearsal.
“Uh,” she said, chest tightening. “What?”
Jess gestured to her damp clothes.
“Oh!” Amie exclaimed, looking down at herself. “No, um … a truck. There was a truck, and a puddle. Water. On me.”
She winced, but Jess seemed to follow the heavily abridged story well enough.
“Good news,” they said. “We have blueberry bagels today. Sorry again we were out yesterday. Do you want that and a mint tea?”
Amie nodded emphatically, not trusting herself to speak. She’d already forgotten the line she’d been practicing but was pretty sure it was no longer applicable.
Oh! She knew something she could say.
“Do you know what’s going on with …?” Amie gestured to the door and the cop who stood on the other side of it.
Jess looked up as they finished tapping the screen. “Did you hear about Savannah?”
Amie knew exactly who they were referring to. Savannah Harlow, the owner of the bookshop next door, had a habit of making baristas redo her drink and loudly complaining about the “slow service.” Amie had many times witnessed Savannah scolding Jess on September 17, which led to Jess knocking a drink off of the counter.
Savannah was also Amie’s neighbor. She lived in the apartment directly above with her husband, Andrew, whose heavy tread was more familiar to Amie than her own. Savannah was infamous in their building for starting arguments, feeling personally attacked, and stealing packages. Amie had once accompanied David for moral support as he demanded that Savannah return his package of balloons that had gone missing from the mail room. Savannah returned the balloons, claiming that she thought the box had been addressed to her. Amie had quickly steered David away before he could comment on Savannah’s poor reading skills or failing eyesight.
