Chapter twenty
Sully
Islept deeply, oblivious to the world around me. One arm tucked under me had fallen asleep at the elbow. I'd tangled one foot in the sheets and mashed my face into the pillow, leaving creases on my face.
The clock said four minutes past eight. I read it twice. I'd gone to bed shortly after midnight. That came out to eight hours. I hadn't slept that long in months.
When I rolled over and checked my phone, I saw three notifications. None were from Pratt. One was a weather alert, and another was a spam call. The third was Tomasz asking if I could grab limes on my way in because the produce order had been short.
I considered sending a message to Pratt. It could say, "Morning," or "Hey," or I could deliver a throwaway joke. In the end, I decided not to send anything and focus on getting my day started.
I lay in bed another minute, relishing horizontal time with nothing specific to do. My mouth tasted like sleep.
Eventually, I sat up. I showered with the water hotter than necessary and walked past my speakers on the way to the kitchen without turning any music on.
After a late breakfast, I settled on the couch and watched a movie. I couldn't remember the last time I sat still enough to do that.
I arrived at Carver's at eleven am. Inside, Tomasz had stacked milk crates against one wall. The dishwasher was running.
Nora was on the floor with a clipboard, doing inventory. She looked up when the door closed behind me.
"You're not on until two."
"I know."
"Are you sick?"
"No."
She made a small mark on a chart.
"Did you bring Tomasz's limes?"
"Yes, picked them up on the way."
She made another mark and turned toward the back. I heard her firing the espresso machine in the kitchen.
I hung my coat on a hook just inside the back door and got to work.
An hour before opening, I pulled clean rocks glasses off the rack above the dishwasher and walked them out front in stacks of four. The taps remained capped from closing last night. The TVs above the bar were dark, and two floors up, somebody was running a vacuum.
I'd finished the glasses and started on the speed rail when Nora came back with two espressos. She handed the white mug to me and held onto the one with the dog on it that one of her cousins had brought her from a thrift store in Pilsen.
She leaned on her elbows opposite me.
"You gonna tell me, or do I have to guess?"
"Short or long version?"
"Short, please. It's early."
I set down the inventory tape.
"I went over."
"I knew that. You left here in a rush."
"And I said most of it. I told him about Bryan and the two weeks I didn't call him back." I straightened. "It wasn't pretty, but I said it—all of it."
