Page 105 of A Heart So Haunted
He’d changed. So could I. I could start small. Tiny, tiny steps. In a different way.
This time, the waiting area was stuffy with laughter and voices. A short line of three people waited, while two hovered by the pick-up counter. An older gentleman with sprigs of white hair scribbled down orders. A heavenly warm scent clouded the air. I took a place in line, and by the time he waved me forward, I’d already decided. A tumble of anticipation in my belly.
He gave me a crinkled smile. “And what can I get you, young lady?” His glasses’ lenses were so thick his eyes looked like needle points when he blinked. It was cute.
“Can I get a bagel with cinnamon cream cheese?” I scratched the inside of my arm. “And a vanilla latte?”
“Why, absolutely.” He rattled off my total; I told him to keep the change.
My fingers tingled while I waited in the huddle of people at the pick-up end. The same woman from before—Bernice—flung drink after drink out onto the counter. Not one spilled.
“LARRY,” she hollered. She smacked a paper-wrapped bagel and plastic sample cup next to it, then my coffee.
I gathered my breakfast. “Thank you.”
She glanced up at me. Her wrinkles didn’t so much as twitch. “No problem, dear.”
My chest warmed.
Just as I turned to leave, my phone vibrated. I pulled it from my pocket, coffee and baggie in one hand, as the door jingled above me. A text.
MEREDITH:Hey honey, can you stop by soon? Got a question about one of the chickens.
I found the same bench I’d sat on the first time I’d come by and took a seat. The humidity hadn’t quite set in yet, but a hint of balm hovered at the edges of my face. Within the hour, it’d be sweltering.
I took a sip of the coffee, then unwrapped my bagel. Stared at it.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a bagel.
I held it tight with both hands, scared I’d drop it. I didn’t have to eat all of it. Just some of it. Just a little. Or I’d feel like trash the rest of the day.
Anger is like a train, my heart whispered with a squeeze.You don’t have to take the first stop, but you can always get off the train whenever you want to.
I couldn’t keep doing—this. I wrangled with my heart, the feelings of empathy toward Hadrian and what he’d been through, chewing on his advice while trying to keep my logic intact.
Was my frustration with him because of what he’d done? Or was I pushing him away as punishment for myself, for still wishing I’d had the courage to act on my feelings as he did? I could acknowledge what he’d done was wrong. I could acknowledge that my own actions were wrong, too—but did I have a right to play God? Did I have any room to shove him into a box, when I’d done the same thing to myself in the vein of protecting my heart, my feelings?
And was I pushing him away soIchose for him to leave me behind? To avoid him deciding to leave himself?
Because it was easier to turn my back when I’d been the one to walk away.
My chest tightened at the words I’d hurled at him. The anger behind them I hadn’t meant, not really.
I inhaled. Dipped the bagel in the cream cheese, and took a bite.
I didn’t step off the train, but I stepped onto the platform. At the very least, it was a start.
It wasn’t.
As soon as I walked into Meredith’s, their voices rang clear through the storefront from the backroom. Every thread of composure I’d tied together out on that bench immediately burst into flames.
“Did I say you could?” Meredith snapped. “I can call the police for trespassing.”
I stopped at the checkout counter. “Meredith?”
My mother’s voice shrieked, “Just tell me where her things are! Where’d she hide them?”
I dropped my wrapper, leftover bagel, and empty coffee cup into the trash can and hurried through the displays. A metal train caught on my hip and fell over—I muttered as I picked up the pieces, hooked them back together, and rushed to the back.
