Page 51 of Awestruck at Dusk
Amena immediately clicked on her earpiece and did as I asked her to. I leaned my back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. Maybe if I looked up, my eyes would swallow back the tears by gravity.
David’s silhouette appeared at the far end of the corridor. He marched our way and caught up with us in a few long and fast strides.
“Miss Murphy,” he said with a sharp nod.
“Thank you, Amena. Could you give us some privacy, please?” I asked her. “And could you hold on to my purse for a while?” She took the purse and immediately turned on her heel and left.
I glanced at David and said, “Do you have my cigarettes?”
“Yes.”
“Take me to the kitchen, and don’t pretend like you don’t know where that is because I know you’ve studied this entire venue’s layout.”
“Follow me,” he said, adjusting the flaps of his jacket.
David was my go-to discreet agent of choice. He’d buy the cigarettes for me and carry them with him for situations such as these. I refused to carry my own box, fearing I’d consume them in a heartbeat. They were supposed to be for emergencies only.
We walked in the opposite direction of the party through that same long corridor and made a left. Then a right after a few steps where a white double door appeared at the far end of the space. The kitchen.
“Miss Murphy,” David said before I stepped in. “I need to know what you’re planning to do.”
“There’s always a backdoor in every kitchen. I need to breathe. And I can’t walk out the front door. I just need a smoke. To clear my head.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
We walked right in, and I tried to avoid making eye contact with any of the kitchen staff as David led the way. My thought was if I walked right through with confidence, as fake as it might be, no one would ask questions or ask me to leave.
We made it through the huge kitchen without a problem and found the back door open. A couple of cooks smoked outside. I said hi to them, and they said hi back, returning to their conversation quickly after that.
David reached into his inner jacket pocket and took the cigarette box and a lighter out. He offered me a menthol cigarette, and I brought it to my lips. He lit it up for me as my hand slightly trembled.
“I’m sorry,” I said, taking a long, slow drag. “I just needed to breathe for a second.” I blew the smoke out, leaned against the wall, and crossed my left arm over my stomach, holding my right arm up with the cigarette in between my fingers.
It was one of the few things I could do without my cast getting in the way. Hold a freaking cigarette.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. He knew what my problem was. You didn’t have to be too smart to figure it out, but David here was cunning and knew me well by now. He surely knew this was about Caleb.
“There’s not much to say. I just fucking miss him.” I shook my head slowly and stared at nothing. “Too much. I—I don’t know if it will ever stop hurting. Well—Idoknow. And the answer is no.” I laughed a short, wry laugh.
The death of my mother was evidence enough to know this. The pain would always be there. But the pain changes with time. It likes to play games. Sometimes it hides. Sometimes it lurks behind you. And at times, it steps right in front of you and demands attention like a child having a tantrum for no apparent reason.
But there’s always a reason.
And you better figure it out or wait for it to pass because it won’t ever leave your side.
I knew where I was headed dealing with Caleb’s death. But I needed time. And time usually likes to be left the fuck alone. At least in that, we’re similar, but we’re not friends. It taunted me most of the time, especially at night.
David didn’t reply. That’s why I liked him. He was always one step ahead, observing, reading the place and everyone in it.
“So you’re a doctor?” I asked. It seemed like the perfect time to do so. I needed to get out of my head. As if it were possible.
He snorted. “Yeah, I am. I enlisted in the Marine Corps when I was seventeen. After a couple of years there, I decided to pursue medical school within the military, which was the main reason why I enlisted in the first place. And I got in.”
“Do you have a specialty?”
“I’m a General Medical Officer. I thought about doing a specialty, but one thing led to another, and I ended up here. And I couldn’t be happier right now.”
“But why did you leave? Was it not what you expected it to be or …?”
