by Liz Fichera
“Thanks, Max…I appreciate it, really I do. I guess I don’t know what to say.”
He blinked twice. “How about, thank you? I’m glad to see you, Max? Something along those lines?”
“Thanks, Max.” I forced a smile.
His face lightened, if only a fraction.
I sat up higher, anxious again. “Would you mind driving me somewhere?”
“The hospital?” His tone was hopeful.
“No, I’m fine, really. I’ll be fine.”
His head tilted. “Where, then?”
“I know this sounds a little crazy, but I really have a craving for some really strong coffee…a certain kind of coffee, though.” I paused.
“There’s a Starbucks next to the building—”
“No, no, not there,” I interrupted. “I really want to go to a place closer to ASU. You’ll love it.” I forced a smile, an Alexandra Summers type of smile. My cheeks tightened from the phoniness, but I was desperate. “Promise.”
“Why so far?”
“Will you just take me?” I pleaded.
His nostrils flared. But then he said, “Okay, as long as you—”
Alexandra burst into the room.
“Good!” she gushed, breezing through the door, oblivious to the fact that anyone could be having a conversation. “You’re up.” She had a folder in one hand and a pink cell phone in the other. “You will never believe what’s happened since you took your little spill today. That was genius, Callie, pure genius! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.” Her tone, weirdly, was laced with something resembling admiration.
I watched her, speechless.
“People haven’t stopped calling into the station. The switchboard is jammed,” she continued. “You got the entire city worried about you. Everyone’s wondering how Callie Collins is doing!” Her blue eyes danced with possibilities that I didn’t understand. Why would people be so concerned? About me?
But then I blinked. “Wait a minute.” I lifted my palm. “You think I planned that?”
Alexandra rolled her eyes. “Come on.” Her jaw dropped dramatically. “You’ve only been in front of a camera a zillion times. I know you were the weather girl before this, but it’s not like anchoring is so different. Hell, you even get to sit down now!”
“Whoa…wait a minute…. I was a weather girl?” My voice rose as Max and Alexandra stared at me as if I’d just lost an eyeball.
“Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?” Alexandra’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits.
I braced my hands against my knees and stood upright. “I need to get out of here. I need air.” I turned to Max. “Can you take me for coffee? Please?” If only I had driven my own car. I did have a car, didn’t I?
Max looked first at Alexandra as if he needed permission. But then he turned back to me. “Sure, babe. Anything you say. Let’s go.”
“You two going to Starbucks?” Alexandra batted her eyes, pining for an invitation.
“No,” I said. “We’re not.”
“Oh.” Her lip curled.
“We’re going to some place near ASU,” Max added with a tiny eye roll in Alexandra’s direction.
Alexandra’s expression darkened. “You’re not going to that Java The Hut place?”
“The Desert Java,” I corrected her but then added sweetly, “You want me to bring you something back?” Even though I had no intention of coming back. Ever. Surely the sight—even the smell of something inside the Desert Java—would trigger something inside my head that would free me from this crazy dream.
“No,” Alexandra pouted. “What’s wrong with Starbucks?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I just have a craving for Desert Java. That’s all.” A craving was an understatement. I needed out of this whacked version of The Wizard of Oz.
Alexandra shrugged her thin shoulders and sashayed to the door.
Max’s eyes, not surprisingly, tracked her all the way.
“Okay, have it your way,” she said, “but I don’t know what’s so special about the Desert Java. They’ve probably never heard of espresso.”
With Max driving the Mustang, it took us no time to reach the other side of town.
I pointed at the red brick building through the opened passenger window. “Here it is,” I said to Max, trying very hard not to hyperventilate. My hand shook, especially when I read the sign over the front entrance:
Desert Diner
It was the same plastic, dated one with black magnetic letters from years ago.
When Mom and Dad were alive.
I remembered the day Dad bought all the parts from the local hardware store, before it got replaced by one of those monstrous home improvement stores. I was in the first grade at the time because I remembered the shoes I wore—black patent leather ones with a strap across the top. I wanted the pink jelly ones that looked like ballet slippers that Kathryn wore but my feet were too wide.
“Thought you said it was called Desert Java,” Max said.
“I…I must have remembered it wrong,” I replied numbly. It was difficult to break my gaze away from the sign, especially since it wasn’t possible. None of this was.
Max chuckled. “Well, at least you got the Desert part right.”
I swallowed. “Yeah.”
Something wasn’t right—and not just the fact that I was in someone else’s perfect body.
I turned to Max. “What’s the year?” I asked with mock nonchalance. Inside, my stomach rolled.
Max squinted at me strangely. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Is it…” My tongue thickened. “Is it 2011?”
“That is correct, Callie.” He sounded like Alex Trebek addressing the dumb Jeopardy! contestant with the lowest score. “What is 2011. And has been for the last three months.”
I ignored the snarky sarcasm and turned toward my window, placing my hand on the door handle while Max finished parallel parking. He found a spot in front of the building.
“At least give me a chance to park before you open the door. I don’t need a door ding.”
I got out the moment we were fully parked. I’d have jumped through the window if I had to. I sprinted ahead of Max to the front entrance and burst through the door. With my hand resting on the door handle, I stopped.
Max stopped behind me, an inch from jamming his toe into my stiletto heel. Slowly, my eyes scanned the mostly empty room as the brass bell jingled on the door frame above me. The bell was the same. But it was no longer the Desert Java. It was my parents’ diner, exactly the way it was before they died. But how?
Frank Sinatra crooned from two box-like stereo speakers that were replaced long ago with tiny, metallic Bose speakers. The familiar smell of strong coffee filled the diner, but missing were the sweet pastry aromas—scones, cookies, lemon cakes. The glass-enclosed pastry case near the cash register was missing too.
A chalkboard sign next to the front door described a meatloaf special and homemade soup, just like the one Mom used to keep. Instead of abstract art and overstuffed chairs and couches, the tables and booths were back with their yellow plastic table cloths pinned down tight at the corners.
Everything in the room looked exactly as it did when Mom and Dad were alive.
“But, how…” I mumbled.
My eyes darted to the wall behind the cash register. The eight-by-ten black-and-white family photograph still sat in its silver frame. The photo was taken by one of our customers when Kathryn and I were still in grade school. I still remembered the pastel Easter dresses we wore, along with our matching Easter purses—same style, different colors. Mom liked to dress us like twins, only we hardly looked it.
I leaned closer to study the photograph. Then my face froze.
Only Kathryn stood wedged between Mom and Dad, a mostly toothless grin beaming on her face.
I leaned closer another inch. I was missing.
“I’ll be with you two in a minute,” said a woman who popped her head out of the kitchen. Curly, blondish
-brown hair, just like mine. “Sit anywhere you’d like.” Of course I recognized her immediately. She wore the turquoise pendant.
Mom.
I stood frozen as a post, mouth open, till Max placed his hand on the small of my back, coaxing me forward. The warmth from his hand reminded me to breathe.
“Come on, Callie. We drove all this way. We might as well sit down.”
I allowed Max to lead me to the red vinyl booth closest to the door. I collapsed on the seat with the view of the kitchen, waiting, grateful to be sitting. I wasn’t sure I could stand. My hands began to tremble and I hid them underneath the table.
Then I caught a glimpse of a familiar blond ponytail. Kathryn, I thought, and a breath caught in the back of my throat. She worked alongside Mom, just like we always did when they were alive.
I lifted in my seat, making a feeble motion to stand, but my body tightened. What would I say to them? Hi, you don’t know me, but I’m your daughter. People call me Callie Collins but my real name is Grace. I traveled here on a treadmill from another planet. They’d call me a nut job. Then they’d call the police.
I began to massage my temples, silently yelling at myself to think of something, anything that made sense.
“What’s wrong, Callie?” Max asked. “You’re a million miles away.”
I raised my head and looked across at him, my eyes almost crossed. “I am a million miles away.” If he only knew.
But then Mom emerged from the kitchen, smiling, and my heart beat faster. “I know you…” Her voice trailed off as she handed us two menus, her eyes locked on mine.
I felt my face brighten. “You do?” Of course she would know me. Could a mother ever forget her child? My breathing stopped.
“You’re that Channel 2 girl,” Mom said. “My husband and I watch you do the weather almost every night.”
I sank back into my chair, even as she reached her hand to her neck, fingering her necklace. She always did that when she was thinking. I’d watched her do it a thousand times.
But then my eyes dropped to her hands. I missed them, soft as velvet and delicate and wearing her gold wedding band. A lump formed in the back of my throat. I wanted to grab her hand, touch her. I wanted her to know me.
“Mind if I introduce you to my daughter, Kathryn? She’s a fan too.”
Clearing my throat, I nodded. “Of course.” My voice turned raspy.
“And lunch for you two is on the house. It’s not every day that we get a real-live celebrity. Now, what’ll you have?” She reached in her apron pocket for a notepad. I recognized that too. Kathryn and I still kept a few with Mom’s notes. We couldn’t stand the thought of throwing them away, even if they were just scribbled notes about menus and meal orders. “My meatloaf is delicious, I don’t mind saying. Can I interest you in a piece?”
I began to hyperventilate a little. My emotions flooded any clear thinking.
“Well, that settles it.” Max said, snapping the menu against the edge of the table. “I’ll try it.” He handed her back his menu and one of his smiles. “And some coffee too, please.”
Mom turned to me and hot tears built behind my eyes. She was so beautiful and I missed her terribly. And she didn’t even know who I was. My heart felt like it could bust into a million pieces.
I swallowed, willing myself forward. “Just some coffee for me, please.” I kept staring at her, hoping that something about me would register in her eyes. She had to recognize me. She just had to.
When Mom moved away from the table, I reached out, stopping her on the forearm. For a second I stared at her, speechless, but then I said, “And, um, a piece of your crumble cake too. Please?”
Mom blinked twice before smiling down at me. “You know about my crumble cake?” She sounded surprised. “I don’t normally make it, but I may have a piece or two wrapped in the refrigerator. I make it for my daughter, mostly. She loves it.”
I loved it too, I ached to tell her.
Then Mom walked closer to the table. She reached down and placed her hand over mine. Her hand was reassuring, just like it always was. She smelled like lavender. “You okay, Callie?” she whispered with eyes that were carbon copies of mine.
Couldn’t she at least recognize that part of me?
My throat thickened to the point that it was impossible to reply. I felt frustration and more tears building behind my eyes and inside my chest. Another word and I would have started to sob.
“She’s kind of had a rough day,” Max said when I couldn’t form words. “Not herself.”
An understatement. That was like another stomach punch.
“Well, then my crumble cake ought to cheer you right up, honey.” She patted my hand before giving it a final squeeze. I reached out for her as she turned but I wasn’t fast enough.
“I’ll be right back with your coffee,” Mom said over her shoulder, heading toward the kitchen.
“Crumble cake?” Max chided, wide-eyed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat cake before. Loaded with fat grams.”
Breathing heavy, I watched Mom till she disappeared into the kitchen. “Don’t knock it till you try it.” Then I blurted, “And there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Max leaned back against the booth. “That so?” He said it like a challenge, just as Kathryn walked out of the kitchen. Her cheeks were flushed.
And she was also very pregnant.
My jaw dropped, a mixture of shock and gratitude just to see her face.
“Miss Collins?” Kathryn approached the table slowly, almost embarrassed.
“Please, call me…Callie.” I swallowed, waving a hand into the air. But I locked onto her eyes with mine, wondering if perhaps she would recognize me, my only sister and best friend.
“I had to come out and say hello. My whole family watches Channel 2 news. We’re big fans,” she added, although I couldn’t understand why, especially after my latest performance.
“Thank you,” I said anyway, swallowing again. I continued to stare at her. Then I remembered to clear my throat. “So, when are you expecting?” My eyes drifted to her stomach.
“Next month.” She patted the bulge there. It was the first time she smiled, but it was more a smile of relief than happiness. “Finally.”
“Boy or girl?”
“Girl. Eddie and I are very excited…”
“Eddie?” My head began to bob a little.
“Yeah, Eddie Cahill. He’s my husband.” Her face beamed. “He’s an architect.”
Yes, I know. “And I’m sure Mom and Dad—I mean, your parents—are excited about being grandparents?” My question was rhetorical. Of course my parents would have been thrilled.
Kathryn nodded.
I exhaled as my eyes swept around the diner. “And she’ll grow up here just like you did?”
The brightness faded from her face, replaced by something else.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Kathryn shook her head. She looked toward the kitchen and then back at me, as if she was getting ready to tell me a secret. “No, s’okay. It’s just that Eddie and I are planning to leave after the baby is born.”
My chin pulled back. “Really?”
“Really.” Kathryn began to fidget. Then she whispered, “But my parents don’t know that yet.”
“Why?”
“Been here my whole life.” She leaned closer, still whispering. “I’m ready for a change.”
“Where will you go?” I couldn’t stop myself from prying.
“Jeez, Callie. Stop interrogating her,” Max joked, but there was a serious edge in his voice.
But I wanted her to stay with me, so very badly, if only a little while longer. I swallowed and tried to smile. “Well, have you picked out a name yet?”
“We’re going to call her Grace. Grace Laura Cahill.”
My hand rose to my mouth. I had to bite my lower lip to stifle a whimper.
“My mother and I have always loved the name, Grace.
” She looked from Max to me. “Not sure why, exactly. We just do. It’s pretty, don’t you think?”
Max, meanwhile, stared across the table and studied me suspiciously. I knew what he was thinking: Grace. There’s that name again…
I forced a smile, mostly for Kathryn’s benefit. “That’s a beautiful name. I wish you and Eddie all the best.” But then my voice caught, really caught, like a peach pit in my throat. I could take no more.
Just like inside the television studio under the hot lights, the room started to spin and I had to close my eyes for a few seconds, bracing my arms against the table, till the wave passed.
“You okay?” Kathryn leaned closer.
I turned to Max and whispered, “We better go. I’m not feeling very well.” I looked back at Kathryn. “Please tell…your mom…that I’m very sorry we had to run.”
Kathryn’s brow furrowed. “You sure we can’t wrap it up for you? Maybe for later?”
I shook my head. “We have to get back to the studio. Some other time, maybe.” I forced another smile as an invisible rope wrapped tighter around my chest. I needed air.
Max and I stood to leave.
“Well, you’re welcome back anytime,” Kathryn added.
Another lump stung my throat. “Thank you,” I mouthed as I placed my hand on the door handle.
Just as I pushed open the door, I heard a deep thunderous laugh from the kitchen, followed by Mom’s soft, lilting one. It was Dad. And it was Dad’s laugh. I fought the urge not to run back into their arms. My chest ached from seeing them, from missing them all over again.
“Come on, Callie.” Max stood behind me. “You wanted to go, so let’s go already.” He nudged me forward and I pushed harder on the door. The bell jingled.
As soon as I was outside, I inhaled a deep gulp of fresh air and squinted into the sunlight as the bell faded. “There’s one more place I need you to take me.”
“Where?”
“I have to get back to my sister. She needs my help.”
“You have a sister?”
I didn’t answer. But from my tone, Max knew better than to say no.
We drove directly to Goldie’s Gym. Max had stopped asking questions that I wouldn’t—couldn’t—answer. Finally, he simply drove in silence.