“Is she hurt?” I feel tears stinging the back of my eyes.
“Your mom and I have to go to the hospital. I need you to come with us.” He stands then. “Your mother is a wreck. I need you to sit in the back with her while I drive.”
“Okay, Dad. Whatever you need,” I say.
I sniffle and wipe my eyes, shaking my head to clear the memory of the worst day of my life. We didn’t know it at the time, but Cara was pronounced dead at the scene. I think when my dad told me we had to go, he still had hope. I shudder and stand, wiping my eyes with the heel of my palm. I don’t know how long I have been here—I left my phone in my car. As painful as this has been, I needed to do it.
“I’ll be back, Cara,” I say to her headstone. “I promise.”
15
MELANIE
Ipush aside the discomfort that Josh left me with after the meeting. I know it’s very new, but I expected some mild affection from him after this morning’s breathless encounter. He seemed distant and uncomfortable throughout the concert meeting, and that distance lingered as he told me he was visiting Cara’s grave site. It’s been years since I’ve been there myself. Perhaps we could have comforted each other. Rejection stings me like a snapped guitar string mid-song.
I try to go about the rest of my day as I normally would. I stop by the grocery store and grab some essentials. The silence is deafening when I return to my condo. Slowly and methodically, I unpack the groceries, glancing every few moments at my closed front door. I play through an old tune we wrote when we were teens a few times. We’ve been trying to rewrite it the past few days. Subconsciously, I wonder if it’ll beckon him home.Home.
I don’t need one, but I take a shower, taking my time, hoping that Josh will be there when I get out. He isn’t. Three thirty rolls around quickly, and I’m fighting the nagging feeling that something is terribly wrong. He still isn’t back by the time I have to leave for work, fifteen minutes later.
“Where is he?” I mutter to myself. I pick up my phone for what seems like the zillionth time since we parted—nothing. I tap out a text.
Me: I’m heading into work…hope you’re okay.
My message goes unanswered, and I decide to walk to work to clear my head. Realistically, nothing negative happened between us. I should remain calm. I have no reason to think Josh has second thoughts. Maybe he is missing Cara—lord knows he wouldn’t be the only one.
I plaster a smile on my face as I walk through the outdoor seating area and through the front door. It’s a busy Friday night in June. Summer tourism is in full swing and even though I should be used to it, the season catches me by surprise each year.I sure could use a change. I push the thought aside, knowing I’ll never have the courage to make it.
“Hey, Mel!” Andrew comes around the bar, breaking me out of my self-deprecating, intrusive thoughts. “You didn’t bring your guitar.” He gestures to my empty hands.
I suppose I forgot, preoccupied by thoughts of a disappearing Josh. I almost always bring it on open mic nights though, and it feels strange not to have it with me. “Oh,” I utter with a half-hearted shrug. “I guess I forgot.”
“Not like you ever play anyway,” Andrew teases, but when he realizes I’m not laughing, he fixes his face. “You okay?”
I take a breath and force my lips into a practiced, too-bright expression. “Yep. I’m good.” I walk behind the bar and pull an apron out of the drawer under the kiosk. Andrew follows, leaning on the bar. He’s still giving me that look—like he doesn’t quite believe everything is fine.
“Should be busy tonight,” I say, glancing around the restaurant. It is already filling up.
“Yeah. It will be. The open mic book is filling up already.” Andrew grabs an empty glass from the patron in front of us. “Another?”
The man nods, and Andrew moves around me to the tap, expertly filling a fresh pint glass with almost no foam.
“I’m going to hang around and help you until eight or nine,” Andrew says, his lips pressing together. “I’m anticipating a big crowd tonight. The town is crowded with tourists. It took me almost twenty minutes to get here.” He turns and faces me, leaning on the bar and examining me closely with narrowed eyes. “You sure you’re all right?”
“I’mfine,” I huff with exasperation. “I’m just a little tired.”
Andrew looks like he wants to press me further, but he stops himself. “Okay, well, I will work the floor, you work the bar. Let me know if you need anything.” Andrew ducks under the opening even though you can lift it up to walk through. I always wonder why he does that.
Time passes quickly after that. I’m too busy serving customers to worry about Josh or to check my phone, though every time I get a breather, I find myself glancing at the door. Nothing.
Around seven-thirty, Miles, Jenna, Liam, and Sophie come through the door. For a moment, I feel excited thinking maybe Josh met up with them, but there’s no sign of him. I pull my phone out of my apron, but it’s nothing but a blank screen.
“Mel!” Jenna squeals, startling me out of my pity party. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
The guys pull two barstools out for Jenna and Sophie and stand behind them. “Are you going to sing tonight?” Jenna asks excitedly.
I shake my head. “That’s not happening.” I smirk, turning and grabbing a Miller Lite for Miles and a Corona for Liam. “What are you girls drinking?”
“Margs!” they say simultaneously, laughing. I wish I could whip off my apron and join them on the other side of the bar.
