He’d said he wanted to see her again. Could that be true? Did she really want to see him again? What would that mean? Was she even capable of sustaining a relationship with a person who hadn’t been through her wars with her?
She didn’t know. She just didn’t fucking know. But she already felt sad and wistful that their date was over. He’d been easy to talk to, and people not her family were never easy to talk to. He hadn’t gotten snotty when she’d asked for clarifications, and he hadn’t seemed to mind when she called shit out. He’d seemed to like it, in fact.
She had no cubby for a guy like Luca.
Finally, she’d forced her feet to move, and she’d gone into her kitchen, poured herself a glass of orange juice, and opened the door to the cabinet next to the sink. But there, again, she’d gotten stuck. She needed something; she could feel her gears slipping, and she had meds that were meant to fill in the occasional gaps left by the stuff she took regularly. But what? Was she anxious? Was she depressed? Was she on her way around the bend?
She’d compromised with half a dose of Xanax and then she’d gone and sat in the orange papasan, grabbing the big, stuffed kitty that had been sitting in it and holding it close to her chest. Manny didn’t do pets. She wasn’t great with living animals. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them or was mean to them, but she lacked that thing that made people think of pets as other people and assume they had human emotions, so she just didn’t bond with them much. But her stuffed kitty with the long, soft white fur and the blue satin ribbon felt good in her arms.
She spent the night curled in the papasan, thinking.
oOo
Feeling not much more sorted out in the morning, she decided to go into Providence early and spend the day with her folks. It was Saturday, and that night was a Battle of the Bands gig, so she’d have to be in town for that, anyway. The day was free otherwise, and she’d had no plans beyond meeting up with the band a few hours early. Maybe she could help her mom in the yard or something.
She packed up her clothes and stuff for that night, and her makeup kit, and dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and Chucks for the day. It was still early, not even eight o’clock, so she decided she’d stop at the Cove Café and get coffee and a muffin or something before she got on the highway.
Edith, the owner, was behind the counter. Manny wondered if she ever took a day off, because in the five weeks or so that she’d lived in Quiet Cove, she’d been in this little café maybe six or seven times, at different times of the day or week, and it was always happy Edith, with her cute, frizzy, old lady hair and her adorably tacky souvenir t-shirts.
Today’s t-shirt was neon green and had a screenprint of a happy, chubby dude in a t-shirt, board shorts, and flip-flops. He was flashing a peace sign. His eyes were squinty and red. It said Get BURNT on the Cove.
Manny wondered if Edith knew what that meant. But she knew enough to know she shouldn’t ask.
Edith beamed at her across the high counter. “Morning, lovie. Getcha a regular coffee this morning?”
“Yes, please. And a cruller, too. They look good.”
“Just fresh out the oven. You want it to go?”
Manny had thought that she’d sit here in the café and eat, but it was a warm, sunny morning, and the beach was only a couple of blocks away. She had a sudden urge to go sit at the fire pit, like last night. “Yeah. Think I’ll sit at the beach.”
“That’s a great idea. Get there before the crowd sets in. I love the beach first thing. Always start my day with a walk. The sunrise over the water puts every day into perspective, y’know?”
“That’s a nice thought.” She paid for her breakfast, and Edith handed it to her with a wink.
“You have a good day, lovie.”
“Thanks. You, too.” Manny went out feeling a little calmer. She liked it when people were just nice.
She walked down toward the beach. The Cove Café was on the street that ended at the beginning of the boardwalk, where she and Luca had gotten their hot wieners last night. She headed toward the fire pit.
The beach wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t crowded. There were some people with their dogs, and one family setting up a tent in the sand. A few surfers on the beach, and a few more in the water.
Luca surfed. And sailed, and did a whole big list of other macho stuff. He was big and tan and burly, and he laughed easily. He really was nothing at all like her. They didn’t have probably anything in common.
Oh—he didn’t like to fuck in bed, either. That seemed a pretty slim thread to try to build something on.