Night Shifts Black(6)

"He's a musician. Or was."

She nods. "I can believe that. He's pretty cute, actually."

He is, but it seems silly to talk about stuff like that right now. I try to smile. "I hope he comes back."

"I was surprised when he started talking to you. He didn't talk to anyone until you."

"Did anyone ever try to talk to him?"

No. That's obvious. She just looks away and shrugs. It's not her job to talk to customers if they aren't customers. I know that. I can forgive her. It still hurts.

"Are you going to finish your meal?"

I should. The only thing stopping me is the fact that I'm no longer hungry. "Can I get it to go?"

She smiles. Again, she seems to understand. I wonder why she didn't try to talk to Luke. Maybe it wouldn't have come to this. Maybe he wouldn't have needed me and would be getting to know Shauna instead. I go cold at the thought. I can be a very selfish person.

"I'll get a box. You want his, too?"

I look at his untouched plate. I do, but not because I want to eat it. I just can't stomach the thought of leaving it to be discarded by a heartless busboy.

"Sure. I'll pay for both, don't worry."

"I'm not worried, Callie."

Surprised, I somehow manage to thank her. I'm not sure how she knows my name. Maybe she knew his, too, and just pretended not to. It has to be hard to spend your days around people pretending not to know them.

I glance over at the invading couple. They've now relaxed and are scanning the menu. I think of Luke. His ring. His eyes. The anger slipping into his face.



       
         
       
        

He hadn't run that day he encountered me in his chair. I wonder what changed.



∞∞∞



I'm not surprised when Luke doesn't show up the next day. I don't intend to stay long either. I stop by the table, check in with Shauna, then move on to the next phase of my schedule.

The second day I can forgive as well. I never lost a spouse. I have no idea how long the grieving period is or what it takes to recover from something like that. I figure it's probably more than two days. I still check back in at Jemma's, just in case, this time taking my place at the table for a cup of tea. I hope the recovery period is shorter than I imagine, and my gaze shoots to the door every time it opens, but it's never Luke. I see Stan, even Darryn showing up for a shift, but not Luke.

By day three I'm starting to get concerned. I don't really know him, but that fact brings no comfort, only leaves me feeling incomplete. We have work to do, conversations to explore, memories to share. I don't know Luke well enough to need him, but I know I need to finish whatever we've started, even if we're only two strangers who decide to remain that way. I just need it to end with a choice.

I quiz Shauna on day four, but she hasn't seen him. Even the hostess shrugs, making it clear that my problem is not her problem. Luke is a sidebar, an anecdote for her friends over a beer on the Friday nights she isn't working. He's the weird guy who comes in and disturbs the peace by staring at a chair like a freak. That is, until he started eating breakfast with me. Now, he's the freak who runs away when other people sit in a chair. She isn't going to help me.

Oddly enough, my only clue comes from Stan. Luke had taken a call after he fled that day. Stan heard every detail as the younger man hovered in the windbreak, pleading with someone to cancel something and sell the rights to something else. Since Stan knows nothing about him, the conversation makes no sense to him. Since I do, I know I have to keep waiting for him.

So, I do. Day five, day six, and day seven. An entire week I wait.

It isn't until the following week when I can finally breathe again.





Day Five.





"Callie."

I want to hug him. I actually start to rise from my chair to begin the embrace and catch myself.

"Luke."

He sighs and drops to the seat across from me. "I'm sorry."

"For disappearing for a week without a word, or giving me a heart attack?"

"You were worried about me? You shouldn't worry about me."

"Of course I was! You didn't exactly leave in a calm state. Then, nothing for days. What am I supposed to think?" 

"Like I said, you really shouldn't worry about me. You can't, ok?"

Says the most biased judge in the history of verdicts.

And yes, I catch the disturbingly cryptic nature of his warning, but it's a dangerous sentence. I can't deal with that right now.

"Next time, can you at least text me or something?"

"I don't have your number."

"You could."

He nods, but doesn't ask for it. I try not to be hurt.

"I'm just saying that we were all worried about you."

"I'm still confused by that. Why would you be worried?"

I really don't have a good answer. I mean, I have answers, they'd just sound crazy out loud. He's a stranger. He's asked for nothing. I owe him nothing. He owes me even less. Why would I be worried? Because he's more important to me than he should be? That's not an answer. That's my problem, not his.

"We just were." And that was even worse than an answer.

"Really. It's my turn to go out on a limb and guess that by 'we' you mean 'you.' I can't imagine anyone else here cared that I didn't come in for breakfast."

"And what if it does?"

"Now I have to check in with the Jemma's Café patrons every time I do anything?"

He's trying to sound playful. He's not even close.

"No, of course not, but a week? Last time I saw you, you were so upset you stormed off. How am I supposed to know how you fared after that?"

He doesn't respond at first, and somehow I know what he's thinking. Why is he even here? I'm nobody, and now I'm a nobody who nags him. I hate being a nobody who nags him. I'm more than that. He's more than that. We're so much more than that.

"Well, I fared fine. I went home and cooled off. Then did some traveling. Now, I'm back."

I have to stop nagging. I force away what's left of it. "Traveling? Where to?"

Darryn arrives, and I'm not sure if his timing is perfect or terrible. "Morning, guys. Tea? Coffee?"

We thank him.

"Houston."

"Texas?"

He gives me a look. "Yes. Houston, Texas."

Ok, it was a dumb question. "What's in Houston?"

"Family."

I nod. "So is that where you're from in the States?"

He looks away and shakes his head. "Kind of. She was."

It's her family.

My stomach actually begins to constrict a little. We both look at his ring. I want to touch it. To trace the intricate etchings in some absurd attempt to soothe the pain.

"What about you? Shelteron, huh?"

I sigh. "Yeah. Shelteron. I have family there. My dad, anyway. We haven't seen my mom in over ten years."

"She took off?"

I nod. "New boyfriend, new life."

"And your dad?"

"New girlfriend, same life."

"And yet, you're here."

I'm not as terrified of my own history as he is of his, but it still isn't my favorite topic.

"I am. New girlfriend isn't a gem, which is why she's perfect for my dad."

He understands, and I notice the change in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

I shrug. "Anyway, there was never anything major. It just didn't make sense for me to stick around once I didn't have to."

"Still, it's admirable that you are able to live independently as a writer."



       
         
       
        

"It's not all that impressive."

"Sure it is. It can take years to generate enough income in that profession to survive alone, especially here, and you're doing it at twenty-three."

Not exactly. I clear my throat and look away. I know the second he says those words that I'll regret letting him admire me for a lie, so I can't let this go.

"Actually, I don't make enough to survive. The reason I could leave Shelteron was because of an insurance settlement."

"Insurance settlement?"

"Yeah." I still can't look at him, even though I feel him studying every inch of me. "But no personal stuff, right?" I remind him quickly, trying to smile to lighten the comment. I hate closing a door, but I can't go there. Not yet. If anyone would understand that …

He does. "Sorry, no you're right. It just seemed like maybe you wanted to talk about it."

It probably did. And maybe that was even true until it started coming out. That story isn't an out-loud story.

"I know. I only brought it up because I didn't want to give you the wrong impression. I didn't want to lie to you."

"You weren't lying. Having secrets isn't lying."

"Sometimes not. Sometimes it is."

It's his turn to look away and I wonder which part of this conversation is causing the problem.

Darryn brings our drinks, but we both decide to pass on food today. I'm not surprised given our rocky start to the conversation. Neither of us wants to commit to a long encounter right now.

We don't talk for a while after Darryn leaves. Luke is meticulous about opening the creamer cup and mixing its contents with his coffee. He's painfully thorough. I doubt there is a single drop of creamer that isn't transferred and completely dissolved into his cup. He wasn't so meticulous the last time he had coffee with me. To be fair, my teacup suddenly doesn't seem to sit quite right on the saucer, and I adjust it in an endless loop of futility.