He shifts, crossing his hands over his chest. “Are you doing okay? Feels like something is off—at the cocktail party, you looked like you were about to have a panic attack. And when I just came in here now, you looked about ready to throw your laptop clean across the room.” He smiles, asking more gently, “Or am I misreading things?”
Misreading things . . .
“I’m sorry.” I pinch my eyebrows and quickly shake my head. “What did?—”
“Let me buy you a coffee and a bagel, maybe some grits too.”
I’m overthinking everything. I nod. “Coffee sounds like a good idea.” I slide my laptop into my bag, flash him a smile, and slip my shoes back on. “I’m meeting my sisters in Rumor a bit later this morning. Feel like hitting Moonie’s with me?” I ask with a more genuine smile.
“If it ends in a cup of coffee and some time with you, then yeah, I’m game.”
Rumor might be considereda small town in Tennessee, but I always thought it felt so much larger than the population or the size of its downtown footprint.
The trees that line our version of Main Street are so old that their roots make for a bumpy ride as we park along it. I throw on the parking brake and glance down at the cemetery that connects to the church at the bottom of the hill. The countysheriff’s department is opposite of the direction we’re walking, running along the far end of the green. While I’ll be the first to admit that my town isn’t quaint and cute by most small-town standards, it’s always felt like it has a big personality.
A few things feel like traditions here—a farmers’ market on Saturdays, the drive-thru in the winter, and Rumor’s garden club that’s usually held on Birdie’s property, despite most having no problem bad-mouthing my family whenever the mood strikes. There isn’t a cute coffee shop with trendy drinks either. We have Moonie’s, an old train car that crashed off the tracks during prohibition, and nobody had bothered clearing. It was an old, repeated story about the train that ran through this part of the state, the only one that brought booze in and out without consequence. Until someone caught wind, tried to steal what was inside, and it ended up derailed and burning.
“I’m just brewing another pot now,” Mickey says as Reed and I step inside Moonie’s, taking a seat at the tightly packed counter. He always looks like he’s smiling with the way he tips up the edges of his thick mustache. “Give me two minutes, and I’ll bring you both a cup.”
“Mind if I ask you something?” Reed questions once we’ve both settled into our seats.
I take a look at the small printout of today’s specials, and my mouth waters at the sight of their savory Moonie Pie—short ribs and grits quiche. “Depends,” I answer him mindlessly.
He laughs, like I’m joking. “Alright. Then maybe I can start small and then see where that takes me.”
I smile as Mickey pours out two cups of coffee in front of us, seemingly not listening, but I know this town far too well to know that he’s clocking every word.
“What was it like?” Reed rushes out.
My throat runs dry. “I’m not sure what you?—”
“Transitioning,” he clarifies. And still, it takes me a beat to wade through my own trauma to hear what he’s really asking.
His eyebrows raise as if I should know what he means. “From associate to professor...”
My shoulders sag on an exhale, and the steel rod that held my posture feels like it’s giving way for me to breathe.
“To be inside this department without really caring what others think.” He leans closer, and I let the question settle. There’s something about his tone that feels condescending.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You came back, after deciding you needed some time to reflect, and plenty of people have things to say about it.”
It’s the only explanation I was willing to share when I returned to town, yet hearing him say it back—time to reflect—he’s making it seem like our colleagues believe I went on a self-discovery trip.
“I’m fucking this up,” he says with his boyish smile.
I give him a reassuring smile and touch his forearm. “You’re not. It’s okay.”
“All I’m saying is...I’m impressed. You were gone, then came back from—from, wherever you went, and now you’re jumping right back in as if no time has passed at all.”
I know the rumors about what happened to me are all over the map—from dead to eloping with a stranger. I told Reed, along with most people at the university, that I’d needed time away and that the rest was personal. None of it even came close to the truth, and I didn’t want to add another lie to the mix, so I kept it vague.
My phone buzzes inside my bag, and when I pull it out, seeing it’s from a number I don’t recognize, my nerves kick in.
UNKNOWN
Are you on a date?
