What Once Was Mine

by Krystyna Allyn

  My shoulders relax at her compliment. It’s then I realize how informal this coffee date is. Taylor’s flip-flop footwear a big tell.

  “Oh, boutique something in SoHo. My friend grabbed it for me. I can show you the tag if you like.”

  Show her the tag? What are you, twelve?

  “I mean, I could ask her.” I reach for my phone, but Taylor stops me, placing her hand on top of mine.

  “Really, it’s okay. You can tell me later on.” She gives me a sympathetic look. “First time moving away from home?”

  “How could you tell?”

  “Hmm. Let’s see.” Releasing my hand, she raps her fingers on the wooden table. “Sporadic

  movie quotes. You offered to show me your clothing tag, thereby indicating your size, which most women don’t do. How many times did you change your outfit?”

  Out of pure embarrassment, my gaze travels to my coffee cup and I fiddle with the coffee cup sleeve. She probably thinks I’m crazy and will ask Hannah to fire me before I have the chance to interact with children.

  “Maybe twice,” I mutter.

  “Well, you look great. Now, bring those nervous eyes up to me and let’s get to chatting. I swear, by the time we’re done, you’ll be more at ease.”

  And I was.

  We discuss her lesson plans, what my tasks would be in the classroom, and the outside activities, one being a reading hour at this very bookstore on Wednesdays. Taylor mentions my trial by fire will be reading to her kids at the next one. She calls them her babies and assures me after I meet the little munchkins, I’ll claim them as well.

  Taylor puts me at ease, her light and airy personality welcome to a lost soul such as myself. She goes on to talk about the sickening love between her mom and dad with a giggle and how she hopes to find that special someone one day. I sense there’s a story behind that, but I choose not to question her about it. She’s relatively open about her life, but this is our first meeting. The Brooklynite in me screams “mind your business.”

  “Do you miss the hustle and bustle of New York? I’ve been a few times, but it never interested me. Too many people.”

  Biting my bottom lip, I ponder this for a moment. I loved living in Brooklyn. Still, even with my best friend Carrie and I repairing our relationship after the big fight months ago, I felt like I was dying inside. Like I was losing the connection to everything I held steady for so long. Carrie’s stern words hit home. They weakened my resolve, forcing me to see my stubborn ways, and how it affected the people I held dear. The realization shifted something inside, and I’m better for it. I continue to be a work in progress, and moving to a new town was definitely another step in the right direction.

  “A little. I miss the variety of stores, people, and, mainly, the food. I have yet to find a decent bagel place.”

  “Oh, you poor thing. Plus side, my mom makes kick-ass saltwater taffy.”

  “Lenny mentioned it. I’ll have to give it a shot.”

  “He’s great. His boss is an asshole.”

  “Who’s his boss?”

  “Sorry, that slipped. It doesn’t matter. Just some indecisive jerk who can make up his mind. Anyway,” she sighs. “If you have any other questions, or want to hang out, give me a buzz. I know how lonely it can be when you don’t have anybody.” We both stand, preparing to leave.

  Taylor’s offer surprises me. Apparently, this town is filled with affectionate, delightful, and caring people. The New Yorker in me is skeptical, but I remind myself I’m no longer in the city. Then, I recall Lenny fixing my sink for free. So, I return her kind gesture.

  “Thanks,” I mutter shyly.

  “You’re welcome. See you Monday, Marley.” She waves as I exit the store.

  “Later.”

  I would love to peruse the bookstore and search for another paperback to add to my unending to-be-read list, but after checking my watch, I realize there isn’t nearly enough time. I have a late morning appointment with my new psychiatrist, Doctor Donald Hughes. There’s no sense in allowing my inner demons to escape when I’ve spent time keeping them at bay.

  Arriving in the nick of time, I greet his secretary and check in. Luckily, Dr. Hughes is running behind because I need a little time to gather myself. I would’ve preferred a female physician, but he came highly recommended by my previous doctor. I anxiously wait for my turn and seconds later a towering guy greets me.

  Handsome with warm brown eyes, Dr. Hughes has a slightly muscular build. From my former physician’s description, I assumed he’d be a wiry old man. The guy has twenty years of experience, which leads me to believe he started practicing in his late twenties or early thirties. Though his jaw is chiseled, he has disarming smile. His salt and pepper hair make him appear to be in his fifties.

  “You must be Marley,” Dr. Hughes’s eyes flash with surprise for some reason, though he quickly hides it.

  Standing, I shake his hand, my grip as firm as possible. It worked for Diane Keaton in Baby Boom. Her bosses seemed to respect her more when she gave them a powerful handshake. Sure there’s more to the plot than that, but I’m sticking to this assertion.

  “Marley Bishop. Nice to meet you, Dr. Hughes.” He glances at our connected hands for a brief moment. Perhaps I’m squeezing it too hard. Fear has me releasing him abruptly. Thankfully he doesn’t address it.

  “Great to meet you, too, but call me Don.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t.” I shake my head.

  “Sure you can,” he whispers conspiratorially as if his secretary was taking notes and poised to report him to the powers that be. “The first rule of psych club is there are no rules.” He winks at me and his lax behavior relaxes me. My last doctor was similar, and it made her easier to open up to. “Let’s continue our routine in my office.”

  “Okay, Dr. Hu- I mean, Don.”

  The second I step into his office, I’m taken back to the first time I made the decision to see someone for my issues.

  The neutral color of Don’s couch and accompanying furniture is meant to soothe. Yet, they only serve as a catalyst for agitation. I’ll get used to it, as I did my last doctor, but the calmness always throws me for a loop. It means there are no distractions for me to latch on. I, instead, must focus on the doctor and my feelings.

  “Are you okay?” A hand touches my forearm, jolting me out of my semi-trance. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “No.” After taking a deep breath, I blink a few times, eventually responding, “It’s always jarring when I enter any psychiatrist’s office.” I don’t share the other reason behind my fear— it reminds me of the room they sat us in after the hospital declared my brother dead. I prefer not to address the issue yet. Today is only a meet-and-greet.

  Don gives me an I-don’t-believe-you expression, but eventually lets it go, motioning for me to sit on his couch. He reaches for the notepad and pen on his desk and plants himself in the chair across from me.

  “So, tell me, what brings you here today, Marley?”

  “Oh, the usual, a complete mental breakdown,” I chuckle, not one hundred percent serious. “Did you receive Doctor Carter’s notes? It explains everything.”

  “I did, but I’d like to hear it from you instead. I find it helps when it comes to patient care.”

  “Fine. The abridged version is, my brother died. It devastated me. I took it out on someone I shouldn’t have. The end.”

  “I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

  “Yes, of course, but it’s in the notes.” I fold my arms across my chest, shielding myself from his look of …

  I don’t know what the expression means, but I don’t like it. Why should I have to revisit that part of my life? I assumed this session would be like a tune-up.

  “You’re going to be a tough nut to crack, huh?”

  “Nope. I’m more a jawbreaker.”

  Don places his pad and pen back on his desk, and then, leaning forward, he motions for me to grab his hands. I stare at him for a bit becau
se this is seriously weird. Dr. Carter did say he was unorthodox.

  “Humor me and take my hands.”

  Shrugging, I finally do. I’m uncomfortable at first, but again, the reassuring smile he flashes relaxes me.

  “My job is to help you and the only way I can is by you talking to me. I won’t force you to. Heck, if you want to sit in my room for an hour and stare at the wall, I’ll be fine with it. Eventually, you’ll have to open up to someone, if not me. I know seeing a new psychiatrist is hard, but you’ll find I’m a good listener if allowed a chance.”

  After giving my hands a quick squeeze, he let’s go and leans back in his chair, waiting to hear my response. Inwardly, I chide myself for being such a tool to the nice man. After all, I scheduled the damn appointment.

  “Okay,” I mumble, ready to spill the trials and tribulations of Marley Bishop.

  After sharing my bestseller material, he thanks me and discusses our therapy plan, which I like. He has a down-home style of treatment which makes him seem more like a confidant than a doctor and it may get me over the hump. Due to her own selfishness, my mother was never able to.

  Don likes the affirmation aspect of the therapy Dr. Carter introduced me to and asks that I choose five and apply them to my week as if I haven’t already. I should be ready to discuss how they worked for me. Sheesh. I never thought I’d get homework after the first visit.

  When I leave his office, I head back to Port View Center. In hindsight, I should’ve scheduled my meeting with Dr. Hughes before Taylor’s to prevent the back and forth since his office is located in the medical center closest to my apartment. That way, instead of having to travel an extra ten minutes to the Fresh Garden Market, I would’ve already been nearby. It couldn’t be helped and I have no food in my apartment. Seriously, if I have takeout another night, I might scream.

  Purchasing the food is one thing, carrying it to my apartment is a whole other beast entirely. I’m kicking myself for not buying a cart at Target before I left Brooklyn. As luck would have it, they sell them at Fresh Garden.

  Thank goodness.

  I make a mental note to ask Taylor about the car service options or if the grocery has a delivery service. I have my license, but I’m not financially able to purchase a car. It’s still warm, and as a life-long Brooklynite, I walk most places. No car means I get to explore the town, which I will start doing tomorrow.

  An hour and a half of aisle surfing in the market is all it takes for my cart to be full. As I make my way down Main Street, I pass the hardware store finding Lenny waving at me from the window. Smiling, I wave back; that is, until his wave turns into a form of charades. It appears as if he’s asking if I needed an escort home, but his hand gestures make it seems as if he’s asking me to dance. Chuckling, I shake my head. Lenny is a funny guy.

  Now, I pride myself on staying alert because one slip and I can end up face planting if I’m not careful. Today, however, I am so distracted by Lenny’s full-body dance I end up running clear into a bulk figure. This mountain man has the craziest beard, which says, in no uncertain terms, he’s killed before.

  Maybe not, but he definitely has a powerful back-off aura about him so I take a step back. I open my mouth to apologize, but close it when he growls, “Watch where you’re going.” I cower at his scary scowl, which lasts five seconds but feels like five hours. Brooklyn Marley is quaking in her sandals.

  “Chill, Carson.” Lenny comes out of nowhere, rescuing me by gently shoving the guy to garner his attention. It works. “She’s new to town. Don’t scare her off just yet.” He raises an eyebrow at the man as if his lean body could take on the behemoth.

  “Whatever,” he mutters, surprisingly storming off without another word.

  I guess not everyone is friendly in town.

  “You have to catch him on a good day is all.”

  “Oh. I said that out loud.”

  “You did.” He grins. “I have the same problem, but usually they’re statements that shouldn’t ever be spoken aloud in mixed company. Anyway, want me to walk you home?”

  I glance at the store. “Aren’t you working?”

  “Sure am.” He nods. “But my boss is covering. He’s used to my wandering ways. Once I found a lost puppy while on break and I closed the store at one to bring the little guy to the animal shelter. The boss’s response was a grunt and shrug, which equals fine in his language. For the most part, he’s cool, except when he’s grumpy. You should come in and meet him.”

  What in the word vomit?

  “Sorry. I have to get this home before the heat spoils the milk.”

  “Aw, man. I did it again.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “My boss says I talk too much and this is why I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  Awkward.

  “You’re fine.” I pat him on the shoulder. “I just have so much to do and need to get home fast. If I allow you to accompany me, we’ll end up visiting all of the stores you mentioned the other day and I’ll forget all about my food.”

  “Hmm. You make a good point, but those are a lot of bags.”

  “I’ll manage. If you’re free tomorrow, you can show me the sights.” I did promise him an outing. It can’t be that bad.

  “Deal.”

  After escaping Lenny, I double-time it back to my place, unpack my groceries and relax with a glass of wine. Besides the weird dude earlier, this town is a total dream, the new beginning. I’m taking full advantage.

  Damn.

  I didn’t know she’d be this sexy in person, those pouty lips and perfect breasts. When I learned she was moving to a small town, I had to make contact. And I was close enough to smell her perfume, to twirl her curly locks. She didn’t even recognize me, which makes me wonder if she knows who I am. Her guard is down; this will make her easy pickings. Marley, you stupid little girl. You are no longer safe from me.

  5

  Glutton for Punishment

  Bro tip #9

  A wingman will always be there for you through thick and thin. Try your best not to be an asshole to your personal savior.

  Cole

  “Seriously, Lenny? Did you find another stray animal?” I ask him as he strolls back in the store like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “First, you waved and then left abruptly. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure you were coming back.”

  “I’m like a curious cat. I always come back.”

  I shake my head at the clawing motion of his hand, emulating a hissing feline. “Anyway, I had to run interference. Carson was in weirdo mode in front of Marley. I didn’t want him to scare my new friend away.”

  “Marley?” I frown. “Never heard of her.”

  “Cody,” he sighs and I cringe at his use of my middle name.

  Several months of threats and scowls were all it took for me to steer the town away from my childhood nomenclature. Every so often, my mother slips, but for the most part, the population of Falls Village has become acclimated to the change. I have Sparkle to thank for the final push.

  I loved my nickname, I really did. But my ex-wife ruined it for me, the whiny way she spoke it grating on my nerves. It got to the point where whenever anyone called me Cody, I’d hear Chrissy. When Sparkle told me she liked Cole better, I went with it. Plus, the breathy way she said my name when I made her come …

  And now I’m thinking about her again, those sparkling hazel eyes, the kissable plump lips, and the taste of her sweet …

  “You still with me?” He grabs me by the shoulder and shakes me out of my semi-trance.

  “I am.” I grumble, “And don’t call me Cody.”

  “Sure about that, boss? I could’ve sworn you were licking your lips a second ago.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  I was.

  Lenny flashes an expression which plainly says bullshit. Yet, he doesn't call me on it, choosing to instead return to his earlier topic.

  “Roger that. Icks-nay on the Ody-cay. Got it, but you should still meet her.”

  “Who
are we talking about again?” I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave the approaching headache. I love Lenny like a brother, but he can be maddening.

  “Marley. She’s one of your customers. Remember the pipe thing on Thursday?”

  “Oh, right. I’m sure I’ll run into her eventually.” I tell him distractedly. “In the meantime, back to work. Ms. Brier called. Her air conditioner is on the fritz, and with the upcoming heatwave, she’ll need the issue fixed.” Susan Brier lives in Port Dock, a few blocks from the Lenny’s home.

  “Cool. She gives lemonade and treats.”

  Lenny strides to the counter and quickly grabs his toolbox.

  “Since it’s late in the day, when you finish with Ms. Brier, you can head home. I’m going out for drinks with Mason at six anyway and have to change my clothes.”

  “Hey. You never invite me to Sin Village. Maybe I wanna get my groove on.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  I haven’t. Usually, I use that place for hooking up and I’m not sure how Lenny would feel if I ditched him for a chick. Mason used to be my wingman, but Hannah would have his balls if he got involved in my debauchery. I remind myself I’ve turned over a new leaf and am only going there for drinks.

  “You’re more than welcome to come if you never use the words “groove on” in my presence again. We’ll be there around seven.”

  “Deal.” He flashes a thumbs up after opening the door. “See ya then.”

  After Lenny leaves, I go about the business of closing down the store, finishing in record time. My expedience is unintentional. I’ve gone through this process so often I could probably do it with my eyes closed. I use the extra time to visit my mother at The Reading Nook next door. She works there part-time, reading to the students in Taylor’s class on Wednesdays and re-shelving the books on Saturdays. She occasionally serves coffee when the barista is busy making more complex drinks. Mom won’t admit it, but she misses her job as the school librarian at Maritime Academy. She wasn’t forced to retire, but the school became dependent on e-books and other methods of electronic research. Books continued to fill the library, but her job became obsolete. The owners of The Reading Nook are former students of hers and offered her employment. She said yes on one condition—no pay.