He sits up in his seat. “You’re kidding, that’s great! Look at how everything works out, isn’t that what I’m always telling ya?!”
I nodded while recalling past times he told me that very thing. “You worry too much about things you have no power over, Cindel. Just let it be. Everything happens for a reason,”he would say.
Our food arrives just as I’m telling my uncle about Eamon. He leans over to sniff my warm, syrup-drenched pancakes before returning to his less exciting over-easy egg on avocado toast.
“Would you like a bite?” I held out my fork offering a stack of triangles.
“No, thanks, kid. Don’t want to spike my blood sugar first thing in the morning.” He sips from his black coffee and scansthe room, for what I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just a protective thing? Knowing your exits; monitoring movement in a room.
By the time our plates are clear and the check arrives, I feel stuffed. I reach into my bag to cover my half of the bill, only to have my uncle wag his finger. He always covers breakfast, but it doesn’t stop me from offering. After laying down two crisp twenties, he studies me for a moment.
“Something wrong, kiddo?”
Am I really that easy to read? I play with the strap on my purse, deciding what to say without sounding like I belonged under a twenty-four-hour psychiatric hold.
“I… would it?” I chew the inside of my cheek.
The dark circles under my uncle’s eyes seem darker. I wonder if he’s tired. Working a full-time job at his age, probably isn’t easy. He leans back, placing his arms on either side of the sparkly, plastic bench. Even his mannerisms are different from his brother's. Confident, powerful, and sure of himself.
My father was adopted by my grandparents when he was a baby. It’s ironic how, over the past couple years, I’ve grown to know the man in front of me better than my own parents. Perhaps because of our proximity to one another? Him being the only remaining family I had left in the city. Regardless, I see him more than I ever did as a kid, and he never pushed me away.
I take a deep breath in and breathe out slowly, just like I was instructed to do over multiple years of therapy. Don’t close him off too, Cindel. Say it!
“I feel like I’m being followed.”
He raises a bushy eyebrow, just like anyone would do after making such a claim.
“I know it sounds crazy, but there was this earbud and then songs started playing.”
He rubs his freshly shaven face. Even though it appears smooth, you can still make out pores of black along his neck and jaw. “Songs?”
I nod. “Yes, songs.” I respond. “Every time I try to get rid of it, the thing just keeps coming back. So, I figured what the hell, I’ll just listen and…” I pause, stifle through my bag and locate the item in question. “Here.”
I place the earbud in the middle of the table between us; he picks it up and begins turning it over, examining it. His other thick eyebrow raises to match the first. “Have you called the police?” He leans forward, handing the quaint, polar device back to me.
“You know how helpful they are.” I stopped trusting law enforcement to uphold the law long ago. “They didn’t even look into my brother’s death!” I seethe.
“Shhhh…” He inclines forward earnestly, reaching for my hands like a man desperate to cling to something real. His silvery eyes search mine. “Cindel, Cindel, Cindel… You know he took his own life. You’ve seen the report. He overdosed. When’s the last time you saw your therapist, kiddo?” He gives my hands a gentle squeeze, his eyes taking on a soft, pitting look. “I hate to see you letting your imagination get in the way of your successes. Focus on that promotion you just got. Maybe that stalker fellow is just some admirer? Don’t overthink it. This isn’t one of your TV shows. No one's watching you.” He lets go of my hands suddenly and taps his chin with a crooked finger. “Ya know what? I bet it’s that boy you told me about. Your boss?”
He can’t be serious. Eamon? No. He doesn’t have time for that. He’s running his businesses. Plus, looking as he does, I’m sure he has tons of girls throwing themselves at him. He wouldn’t waste his time stalking me. Would he?
Looking down at his Rolex, he pats his mouth with a napkin, then extracts himself from the booth, and pulls on his overcoat.I follow, pulling my bag onto my shoulder and standing along with him. He closes the gap, takes a gentle hold of my face, and kisses each temple before looking down into my eyes. “I like when you share with me, kid. Same time next month?”
I nod and force a smile. For the first time, I didn’t feel better after one of our breakfast dates. Pushing up a pair of aviators, he strides toward the door and down the street. Maybe things will be different in a month. Till then, I’ll try to follow his advice. Don’t let my imagination get carried away and focus on the opportunity in front of me.
I voluntarily go to The Black Sheep before my scheduled shift. With Eamon offering me the position as manager, I had a lot to learn before my first day in the new role. Walking in, I find Eamon standing just behind the bar with Connor.
“You two look sweaty, were you moving kegs?” They both answer with a “yeah” in unison, as Connor disappears behind the swinging door.
“You're early!” Eamon exclaims.
“Good morning to you too…” I tease.
From the first time I saw Eamon, he has always been dressed to the nines. Tailored suit, expensive designer shoes… however, today he is dressed down. He’s wearing a cotton tank-top which reveals toned arms and a bar towel is thrown over his shoulder. Corded muscle runs the length of each forearm. Is that a tattoo? As I approach, the lower half of his body reveals itself as, gray sweatpants. My belly somersaults as I try desperately not to home in on his crotch area. He crosses his arms and leans back resting the sole of his shoe against a storage cabinet behind him. It’s giving ‘I’m sexy even in casual attire’ vibes.
“Since I was promoted to a manager position just last night, I figured I would come in early! Try to get a jump on things, like understanding my new responsibilities.” I take a seat on a bar stool, then proceed to pull out a small spiral notebook and pen.
A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Okay…” he starts. “Are you familiar with balancing the drawer?”
