by Celeste, B.
Fine.
Maybe he senses my hesitancy to make friendly conversation with him, unsure of what to say or do outside of small talk like the weather or some sports game that I know nothing about. Or the obvious go-to, which is Nicki and school. He’s probably seen me talking to the other neighbors, laughing with Bex, or fussing and cursing over some DIY project I’m attempting in my front yard.
For all I know, I made a fool of myself by asking him if we were okay. He probably wouldn’t have paid me any attention if I didn’t draw it to myself or even care about how we knew each other in the past. I’m not the same woman I was when I was married to Hunter, after all. Not just in the way I grew into a woman’s body with slightly wider hips, a fuller chest, and a bit more padding to my thighs and stomach, but in how I carry myself too.
When you’re going through hell, there’s no way to escape unscathed. You just have to crawl out with as few burns as possible. And when you do, when you realize you survived, you stand a little taller, a little surer, knowing nothing else can beat you down again.
Remembering that, I brush off any weirdness I could have caused by approaching Fletcher. I did what I had to in order to feel good about my new home and life here in Stanton Springs. Even if I’d known who my neighbor would be, a coincidence that I still reel over when I let my mind wander, I wouldn’t have changed a thing because everything I have here is mine.
Only mine.
Exhaling heavily through my nose, I put my hands on my hips and examine the small flower garden. The weeds are long gone, and so are the other plants that used to be rooted in the fertilized soil. I’ll find something else to plant that’ll come back once the warmer weather hits in the springtime since the fall is slowly creeping in.
Standing up and brushing off my jeans, I peel off my thick gardening gloves and drop them onto the grass by the wooden flower beds. I don’t hear anyone approach until Bex’s familiar raspy voice says, “It’s looking better already.” I turn with a smile and see her holding up a plastic container of something before lightly shaking it at me. “I brought some leftover cookies my youngest brought me. Want some?”
I eye the container. “I think you’re trying to fatten me up,” I accuse. Last week she’d come over with leftover chocolate cake from a birthday party her family had at her mother’s house. The week before there was homemade bread, which was probably the tastiest thing I’d ever eaten. I never want to be rude, so I always accept it.
Bex doesn’t seem apologetic at all as she passes me the container. “I’m trying not to fatten myself up. Ever since I became an empty nester, I’ve had way too much time on my hands to cook, bake, and indulge a little too much on the products. Anything I can pawn off on others, I do with a smile.”
I can’t help but laugh over her honesty. If I were in her shoes, I’d probably do the same thing. “I guess I can’t blame you. Want to come in, or do you have plans today?”
I’m not entirely sure what Bex does with all her free time. From what she’s told me, she works part-time at a salon in town doing nails, something I’ll have to check out once I stop having so many home projects that ruin the nails I used to have done every two weeks, and visits her children every week for brunches or dinners.
I think it’s sweet that she’s so close with her two college-aged kids. One of them isn’t far from here at a community college studying culinary, evident in all the baked goods Bex brings home after her visits. The other works as a mechanic in the town over. When she’d admitted they’d gotten closer after the tragic loss of her husband in a car wreck years ago—the wreck that earned their family a heft settlement to support them the rest of their lives—I’d given her a tight hug and thought about how lucky I was in the grand scheme of things.
There are all kinds of losses, ranging in so many different types of tragedies. We may all mourn them the same, but at least the ones I’ve suffered aren’t the permanent kind. The day Bex left after admitting her sad past, I realized that maybe the cards Hunter still sent me weren’t so bad after all.
Because he may not be here with me, but at least he’s still here on earth.
The thought of losing him…
Sighing internally, I turn to Bex as she explains her plans with a few old friends who are visiting town. “You can come with us if you’d like. Me and the girls are all laid back. Only one of us will try getting your entire life history from you, but all it takes is buying her chocolate, and she’ll be too distracted eating to focus.”
The offer is nice, and I’m almost tempted to take it, but I opt not to for reasons I’m not even sure of. “I appreciate it, but I have things to do around the house still.”
I’m not sure if she sees through the lacking excuse, but if she does, she doesn’t call me out on it. She’s been in my house plenty of times since the day we met and knows that most of my place is as good as it can get until I can scrape up some more money to finish furnishing it. She even offered to go shopping with me when it came time, which I’ll happily take her up on.
“One day, you’ll let me pull you away from here, Stevie,” she says with a sigh and smile. “You’re far too young to be hiding out behind these walls instead of living your life.”
I almost tell her I’m not doing that, but I stop myself. Maybe I’m not intentionally hiding, but I guess I have been isolating myself more lately and using my move as an excuse. Vickie couldn’t even get me to go to a local bar with her for drinks after we sweat our asses off moving around heavy furniture in the living room.
Bex touches my arm lightly. “Whatever is holding you back won’t be forever,” is all she leaves me with before walking back over to her property.
An older van stops at the curb in front of her mailbox to pick her up. When the horn of the blue minivan honks twice as it dives by, I wave at the group of ladies and think about what Bex said.
It’s hard to deny the truth of it.
“I’m so glad you decided to come!” Sonia squeals, grabbing my arm as we exit her car and tugging me inside the bar where I recognize a few other coworkers are sitting. They all turn as we approach, all smiling and holding drinks already.
One of the girls in the group, a second-grade teacher named Abigail stands up and offers me a quick hug that surprises me. Coming from a family of huggers, it shouldn’t, but I’ve barely talked to most of the other faculty in my short time here. “We were all happy to hear you were coming,” she says, flattening the skirt she wore today as she settles back down on the stool.
I’m glad I’m not the only one who decided not to change. I don’t even know what kind of clothes would be appropriate for a Friday night outing to a bar with some coworkers. Jeans? A skirt? A dress? The only person who knows I’m even here is my best friend, and Vickie told me to channel her. When I told her that I didn’t own a pair of Daisy Dukes or a crop top, she’d laughed and told me to fuck off.
“So, you guys do this every Friday?” I ask, feeling dumb for asking since I’ve worked at Stanton Central School long enough to know the answer by now.
It’s Anton, one of the other elementary teachers, who answers from a few seats down. He leans back to see past another male faculty member sitting beside him, glass bottle of Budweiser in his hand, and says, “Every few. We do it at least once a month to decompress and vent.”
I could do this once a month. The bar isn’t too crowded or loud, and it seems like everyone is keeping to themselves for the most part. I even smell something greasy that makes my stomach rumble loud enough for Sonia to hear.
She wraps an arm around mine. “Want to split some cheese fries with me? They have the best loaded cheese fry basket that comes with bacon and sour cream on top.”
If I’m going to drink, I’ll definitely need something in my stomach first. “Sure.”
It’s one of the guys sitting in our group who tips his glass of amber liquid toward a table toward the back. “We should go grab a bigger table to sit at.”
After putting a few orders o
f food and drinks in at the bar, we head toward the large open table by the hallway with a RESTROOM sign hanging from the top of the archway between the rooms. I take a seat in the corner with Sonia on one side and the man with spiky blond hair who suggested the change in venue on the other. I’ve seen him around on occasion but don’t know his name.
He remedies that quickly by sticking his hand out and giving me the same kind of smile that Hunter used to. Charming, boyish, and confident, all wrapped up in one. It was almost devastating, but I smiled back as he introduced himself. “I’m Miles. You’re Stevie, right?”
I nod.
“Like Nicks?” he prods.
“The one and only.” When my mojito arrives, I accept it graciously from the waitress who looks like she’d rather be anywhere but at work and take a sip.
Sonia leans forward, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand. “Stevie is just as kickass as the OG too. Right, girl?”
I blink, taken aback by the random compliment that is far from the truth. “Uh…”
“She’s also single,” my coworker adds with a wink, making my cheeks fire with heat.
Miles bumps my shoulder playfully. “I am too. What a coincidence.”
I want to eye Sonia knowing that this is far from a coincidence, but I decide to push it off instead of making a scene. “How funny,” I say quietly, holding my mojito tightly.
The next twenty minutes is all about Miles’s recreational baseball team he plays in and his obsession with classic cars. Apparently, he goes to car shows during the season and always looks for someone to go with him, a not-so-subtle hint. And on top of only talking about himself and not once stopping to ask anything about me, he does another thing high on my pet peeve list.
He takes some of my food without asking. Reaches right across me and grabs a handful. No, please. No, thank you. Nothing.
Sonia doesn’t seem to care even though it was her idea to split the fries with me. She’s clearly devised a plan in her head that involves Miles and me getting together in some form, a fantasy I have no interest in playing out.
After another ten minutes of listening to the man beside me talk about getting tickets to a concert of a band I’ve never heard, I decide to excuse myself to use the bathroom. Sonia is quick to follow, barely letting the bathroom door close before she claps her hand and saddles up beside me at the sink, where I wash my hands from the sticky cheese coating the fries.
“He’s cute, right?”
I can’t really argue with that as much as I want to. “Yes, but—”
“And he seems to really like you!” she cuts me off, wiggling her eyebrows. “I knew once I found out you were both coming that you’d hit it off.”
I blink. She obviously hasn’t been paying attention to my body language or lack of interest since we sat down. “He’s a little young for me.”
Sonia rolls her eyes, propping a hip against the side of the sink. “He’s only a couple of years younger. And so what? It isn’t like you have to get married or anything. Just have some fun. Miles seems like the type to know how to have a good time.”
My eyebrow twitches, but otherwise, I keep my expression neutral, calm. “I’m not really feeling it. He seems nice enough, but…” But what? Even if I list the reasons why I don’t like him, I doubt Sonia will listen. “I’m just not ready, Sonia. I’m sorry.”
My coworker looks a little crestfallen but nods anyway. “Well, there’s always next time. Don’t count him out just yet, Stevie. He’s got a great reputation at the school. The kids love him, and kids have a great judge of character, right?”
That is true…
Licking my lips, I relent. “Fine, I won’t count him out. But whatever you’ve got planned needs to stop. Nothing is happening tonight. Except maybe getting a second drink and more fries since someone has been eating ours.”
Sonia cackles. “Yeah, I caught that mini glare you gave him when he did that.”
I’m glad she’s amused. “Let’s go. I can stay for a little while longer before I should head home.”
Sonia just turned 30 but still acts stuck in her twenties. I never judge. My best friend is my age and still goes to clubs and bars and lives her best single life just like she did in college where we met. The quiet, sediment lifestyle I prefer isn’t for everybody. “You know you’re old enough not to have a curfew right,” she teases, pulling me out of the bathroom.
I almost walk right into someone who’s walking toward the men’s restroom, stumbling back until two hands quickly catch my biceps to steady me.
“Sorry about tha—” My words fade when I look up to see brown eyes roaming over my face. Brown buzzcut with little speckles of white hair shine in what little lighting is offered in the hallway before those meaty hands let go of me, and the towering body takes a step back. Clearing my throat, I say, “I didn’t see anyone coming. Sorry.”
Sonia wraps her arm around mine again, her eyes checking out Fletcher unforgivingly.
He shifts, seemingly uncomfortable, before grumbling, “Don’t worry about it.” Neither of us can say anything before he sidesteps me and pushes open the men’s room door, disappearing behind it.
We start walking again as Sonia whistles quietly. “That is one hell of a man. I think I’ve seen him around the pickup area at school before.”
I could tell her I know him, that his son is in my class, but for some reason, I opt not to. It isn’t like she needs to know anyway, and if she finds out, I’ll play it off as not being a big deal.
Because it’s not.
Or it shouldn’t be.
“Forget Miles, girl,” she whispers as we near our table, giggling. “You need a man like that in your life. He looks like he knows how to take charge of a woman’s body.”
My heart about stops in my chest as I force a smile and sit back down in my seat.
I have two more mojitos until I’m well good and buzzed and not thinking about the man sitting across the dimly lit bar with another man about the same size and build as him. I blame the alcohol for my blatant staring and the fact that he glances up from the bar and looks right at me.
Caught.
Cursing to myself, I quickly look down at my empty glass and plate of food that Sonia and I devoured an hour ago before looking at the time on my phone.
I groan. “I need to get going,” I tell her, standing and collecting my things. I stumble a little as I walk around the table, feeling Sonia close behind.
What I don’t realize is that Miles is too.
I stop halfway to the door, in the middle of the bar, and turn when he says, “Why don’t I drive you home?”
His hand coasts down my arm, stopping at my hand and giving it a squeeze. I move my arm away gently and smile. “That’s very kind of you, but I’ll be okay. Sonia drove me so—”
“Sonia lives outside of town,” he reasons, as if he knows where my place is in comparison. Maybe he does since I invited Sonia over. She seems keen on sharing things about me to Miles. “I don’t live too far from here. I’m sure it’ll be easier to have me take you.”
He’s giving me the eyes. The bedroom eyes. Like if I say yes, I’ll be agreeing to way more than a friendly ride home.
“She told you her friend was taking her,” a new voice says from behind me. I know the rugged, low tone, so I don’t bother looking behind me to see Fletcher probably towering over all of us. Including Miles.
Sonia’s eyes widen as her lips twitch into a secretive smile as she glances between the person over my shoulder and me.
Miles doesn’t give up. “I happen to be her friend too, buddy, so why don’t you butt out of business that isn’t yours?”
Oh God. If there’s one thing I know about the man behind me, it’s that he doesn’t take well to attitude. Not from his soldiers, and definitely not from random guys in bars trying to take a slightly drunk girl home.
“If her friend doesn’t take her home,” Fletcher says slowly, as if Miles needs to hear each word individually, “then I�
�ll make sure she gets home safely.”
He doesn’t say why thankfully.
And Miles… He doesn’t know when to stop talking. He scoffs, his body language becoming challenging as if he could take the man whose body heat is soaking into my back and a little too close for comfort for me. “Yeah, because I’m sure your intentions with her are as honorable as mine, pal.”
I groan loudly. “Sonia,” I blurt a little more loudly than I mean to. “Sonia will take me like we agreed, right?” My begging eyes turn to my coworker, who’s watching the men talk about me like she’s watching a tennis match.
Slowly, she nods. “Suuure…”
I tug on her arm. “Okay. Great. Bye, Miles.” I hesitate to wonder if I should say goodbye to Fletcher too. I clear my throat and look over my shoulder as I start tugging Sonia to the exit. All I tell Fletcher, who’s standing straighter than normal like he somehow grew a few inches, is a quick “bye” before speed walking out of there.
When we stop outside Sonia’s car, she looks at me from where we stand on opposite sides and shakes her head slowly. “That sexy man wanted to take you home, and you said no?”
My nostrils flare slightly, the buzz wearing off way too quickly after that whole encounter. “I told you already. I’m not ready.”
I’m not sure what she grumbles under her breath before unlocking her car and climbing in.
The ride back to my house is quiet.
And I’m perfectly fine with that.
CHAPTER SIX
The last thing I want to do is enter the principal’s office under the circumstances I’m about to, but I have no other choice after what happened.
When I see elderly Mrs. Willington, the secretary who looks like she’s been here since the day the school opened in the ‘40s, gesture toward Ms. Clifton’s door, I know that when I knock and hear my boss’s voice tell me to come in that there are already going to be two, maybe three, other people in the office with her.