I need to walk this shit off. This pain. The fuzziness from the alcohol. The guilt.
I don’t know what I did or even what I could have done to make her react like that. I was restrained, so it’s not like I hurt her. Plus, even drunk, I have never hit a woman.
It’s late, almost 2 a.m., but from how busy it is, you’d never know. The River Walk is lit up. Bars and restaurants along the river stay open late. Music from multiple places floats on the night air, mixing into a chaotic mess. People are dancing on the patio at one bar. At another, people sit at the fireside tables. The rust orange glow from the flames cast shadows along the path as I pass by.
The delicious smell of bread hits me.
“Mmmm,” I hum as I close my eyes, remembering the scent from that distant memory.
Miss Diana’s. The woman who would sneak me and Adam fresh loaves of bread on days we skipped school. Shewas about thirty years older than us, so she looked at us like her own kids. She would scold us for skipping school, then drag us into her shop to make sure we were fed.
My nose leads me to the end building. It’s still here. Dia's.
The door is still the same. An old, wooden Dutch-style door. The top half is open. The smells drifting out are making my mouth water.
“Diana?” I call out into the darkness.
“Hold on, dear. Be up in a minute,” her sweet voice calls out.
A few minutes later, Diana comes walking up from the back holding a tray of freshly baked bread. The years have been kind to her. Her blonde hair is now a silvery grey. Her eyes are still as bright blue as ever. Still short and sweet.
When she sees me, it’s like she sees a ghost. She gasps, dropping the tray and all the fresh loaves.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Let me help you.” I open the door and quickly rush to her. I kneel to start picking up the bread. She hasn’t moved from her spot. Her fingers cup my chin and lift my face to her.
“Myles?”
“Hi, Miss Diana.” I stand, holding all the loaves in my arms. I dump them onto the counter and take a step back.
“Boy! I outa beat your hide black and blue. Scaring the daylights out of me.” She’s clutching her chest like her heart's racing a mile a minute.
“Sorry…” I run a hand through my hair, then rub the back of my neck. I never even said goodbye to her. Or to anyone, for that matter.
“Sorry for what, boy? Leaving without a word in themiddle of the night? Never writing to let any of the folks who care about you and Adam know you were still alive? I had to find out you were still breathing from a magazine.” She folds her arms over her chest, and I can’t help but laugh.
I wrap my arms around her and pull her in for a hug.
“Uh, Myles. You’re not a kid anymore. You look old.” She laughs, which makes me laugh harder.
“Well, Miss Diana, you don’t look a day over forty.”
She pushes away and jokingly swats at me.
“It’s Mrs. nowadays.”
“Oh really? What poor soul did you lure in with the delicious smells? I swear, you’re a witch.”
She shakes her head and laughs as she loads the loaves back onto the tray.
“Mr. Forester.”
“My old math teacher? Oh, God. Don’t tell him you saw me. I think he’s still waiting for some homework I never turned in.” I tease.
“He's retired now. He’s off fishing this weekend. So, tell me, boy, are you settled down yet?”
“Oh, come on Miss… I meanMrs. Diana… you know you were the only woman to ever hold my heart.”
She jokingly smacks me upside the head.
