Olive and Liv had made quick work of cleaning the glass, which was good, as Mae’s limbs, like her brain, were having trouble working correctly. Her feeling of uselessness as they shuffled around her, as Liv made calls, only increased the panic in her chest. She needed to do something. This was her store.Herstore.
“Thank you,” she said again, flushed and frustrated, as Liv handed her the piece of paper with the contact info for the glass guy, who wouldn’t be able to come up from Newport until next week.
“Gotta stop thanking me, love,” Liv said. “Like we’ve said about ninety times now, you need to go take a rest.”
When the heavy clomp of feet sounded behind her, Mae closed her eyes. How could she take a rest when people kept showing up? She’d already talked to the police, which had made her skin crawl; Marty from the Small Business Association had shown up, too, full of frowns and platitudes like, “This isn’t who we are,” and “We’ll make this right.” Except thiswaswho we were, not just Greyfin Bay but everywhere, and you couldn’t quite make it right.
Even Freddy Hampton had stopped by. Kind of. He mostly just looked at the damage and rubbed his jaw, a tense look on his face, before muttering a quick, “Let me know if you need anything,” before leaving.
Mae knew, in the last corners of her brain, that Olive and Liv were probably holding back even more people from showing up, but each new pair of eyes only made Mae more embarrassed. Olive had asked, once everything was cleaned up, if they should start a GoFundMe for the cost of the glass replacement; Mae had only shaken her head. She found, with each passing second, that she didn’t want to post about this, on GoFundMe or Bay Books’s socials or anywhere else. She didn’t want anyone else’s money but Jesus and Steve’s. She just wanted her window and her door back, and for no one else to know this had ever happened.
“Mae.” Dell’s voice was low and quiet. “What’s going on?”
For the first time in hours, Mae’s chest loosened. But only by a degree.
She turned to see his furrowed brow, his downturned lips, almost hidden underneath his beard.
She wanted another hug.
Simultaneously, unbidden, the image of the Dell she first met flashed behind her eyes: scowling at her on the front porch, rolling his eyes at her across an empty room. This room.
Told you so, that Dell whispered in her ear. Next to every sidelong glance she’d received from every stranger since she’d hung up her flags.What did you expect?
“Everything’s okay,” she pushed out. “Liv fixed everything for me.”
“Not true, actually,” Liv said from her side. “If I could fix everything in this town…” She trailed off, staring toward the front door. “Well. Life would be different.”
“What happened?” Dell asked, more forcefully.
“Just a tiny case of a brick thrown through a window overnight.” Mae shrugged, avoiding Dell’s gaze. She felt jumpy, anxious. She acutely wanted to be alone.
“And a little spray paint,” Liv added. She shot Mae a look. “We can take care of that too, you know.”
“No.” Mae rubbed her forehead. “I can do that. I would like to. By myself,” she added, looking first at Liv, and then Dell.
Liv acquiesced first. “Got it. We’ll get out of your hair, then.” She squeezed Mae’s shoulder, gave Dell a nod. Mae sensed more than saw her gather Olive and finally, a minute later, quietly leave the shop.I need to get them a present, Mae thought. She’d get them each something nice. Like flowers, or candy not purchased from bigots. Something the opposite of broken glass.
Dell remained unmoved.
Until the door clicked shut, and he took a step forward, arm outstretched.
“Mae—”
She stepped back, away from his embrace.
“I just have to get the paint from the office,” she said, leaving a wide berth as she walked around him.
He was still standing there, still frowning, when Mae returned with the can of turquoise paint she’d purchased a month earlier, a fresh roller and tray. And after only a second of awkward silence between them, Mae’s shoulders sank. She wanted to be alone. But maybe she didn’t want Dell to go. Not really.
“Is it okay if I work on the shelves?”
She breathed out. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be okay.”
And only then did the memory flash through her mind. Her and Dell, asleep right here on the rug, a mere few days ago. Only then did she wonder what would have happened if the brick-thrower had acted that night. If it would have hit the back of her head. Dell’s face.
She swallowed down a swell of nausea.
Dell gave her one last look, like he was mentally calculating the pros and cons of saying anything else. Of reaching for her again. But eventually, he only gave her a nod before heading to the back door. Mae took a deep breath and put on her headphones. Started Jesus’s playlist.
