by Stacia Stone
He grinned. "Deep thoughts, I like it. See you later, princess."
"Bye." I shut the door behind him and tossed the deadbolt like I promised.
I'd forgotten how easily Zach could make me feel good. Where Julian used my own desires to control me, Zach was just happy that I let him be with me at all.
What would have happened if I'd been smart enough to avoid Julian in the first place? Maybe I could have had something real with Zach, instead of the fantasy that quickly turned into a nightmare.
Regret is what you feel when your mistakes refuse to go away.
22
I walked into the diner with a strange feeling. I'd never come into the place without having to be there for work. The month that I'd spent away hadn't done the place any favors. The scratched tables and seats with cracked plastic covering them seemed even more old and faded than they had before I left.
Miranda was behind the counter in her usual spot, leaning over and flipping idly through a celebrity gossip magazine. She looked up when the ding of the bell sounded and a huge smile broke over her features when she saw it was me.
"Girl, I never thought I'd see you walk through that door again."
"I'm not that lucky," I replied pertly. "All good things must come to an end."
She gave me a long once-over, clearly clued into the fact that something about me wasn't quite right, even if she didn't know exactly what.
"Is your mother doing okay?"
"Yeah, I just went to visit her for a little bit after I dropped Lucy off at school. The doctors want to keep her one more night for observation, but she should be able to come home after that."
"That's good news, right."
"Yeah, it's good." I said a little lamely. To be honest, the thought of taking Momma back to that two bedroom apartment where the four of us were basically living on top of each other seemed almost impossible to contemplate after staying with Julian in a house big enough for a dozen families.
And Momma would probably go right back to her old habit of letting me take care of everything while she laid around feeling sorry for herself.
I immediately discarded that uncharitable thought. What was wrong with me? How long was I going to walk around maudlin and depressed before I could put Julian from my mind completely.
For as long as you have his child growing inside of you, the little evil voice that I was growing to hate said inside of my mind.
I realized suddenly that Miranda was staring at me with a confused look on her face. I must have been lost in my own thoughts for longer than was polite.
“Sorry, Miranda, what did you say?"
She blinked and cleared her throat. "I just asked if you had any plans now that you're back home — work for Berkmore here in the city?"
"Probably not.” I tried to sound flippant and failed miserably. "My boss wasn't super happy when I had to leave all of a sudden to come back home. I don't think they're going to hold the job for me."
"That's too bad," she said, frowning in sympathy. "We're just going to have to find you another once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
"I don't really see that happening."
Miranda stared at me for a long moment. "Sugar, what is going on with you, really? I've seen you deal with all this stuff with your Mom for over a year now and I've never seen it affect you like this."
"It's not my mom," I replied and then instantly regretted the words because the next thing out of Miranda's mouth would be a question about what actually had me upset. "I'm just sad about losing the job at Berkmore. I'll get over it. Like you said, I'll have other opportunities."
Miranda didn't look convinced. "Are you sure that's it?"
"Definitely." My hands played along the countertop and I traced a scratch in the cheap laminate. "That's it."
"You know," Miranda said, leaning back on her barstool. "Do you remember two years ago when you first started working here and I taught you how to use the deep fryer. I left you alone and you burned out the motor?"
I glanced up at her, confused. "Yeah, so?"
"When I asked you what happened, you fessed up right away. Told me that you hadn't been paying as much attention to what I said as you should have and you set the temperature way too high. You even started crying and said that we could take the cost of the repair out of your first paycheck."
I grimaced at the recollection, remembering that very embarrassing moment vividly. "Of course, I remember. Mr. Valentino spent almost twenty minutes yelling at me."
"That's when I realized we were going to be good friends because I knew right then and there: you were someone who would always tell me the truth."
I stared at her, stricken. "Miranda—“
"C'mon honey, you don't think I've noticed how much you've changed over the last few months. Your mood's been all over the place — one minute happy and the next you've got a bigger attitude than a lion with a thorn stuck in its paw."
"Miranda, please."
"I didn't say anything about it, figured you’d tell me when you were ready and in your own time. But, I have to say something now. I know there are probably things going on in your life that you don't want to talk about with the crazy old lady you work with—“
"You're not old," I broke in, partially because it was true but also hoping to derail her from where I knew she was headed.
"Don't change the subject," she said firmly, but with a sympathetic smile. "If you don't want to confide in me, I get that, but don't blow smoke up my ass."
"You're right," I said. I could feel the carefully erected floodgates that I'd put up between my conscious mind and the crashing waves of emotion were about to come down. Tears burned in my eyes and if she said another word, my face would twist into a sob and all of my secrets would come spilling out. "I'm going to go."
I tried to get away, but she stopped me. Before I could take more than a few steps, Miranda was at my side with her arms around me.
It was more than I could take. Suddenly, I was crying into the scratchy afghan sweater that she always wore, with loud, wracking sobs that shook my entire body.
She rubbed my back and murmured comforting words. "It's okay, baby girl. Whatever it is, it's okay."
"It's not," I said on a sob, my breath coming in little hiccups. "You wouldn't look at me the same way if you knew."
Miranda pulled back to look in my eyes. "So try me."
I stared into her sympathetic face, open and willing to hear whatever I had to say. The face of a person that I'd always been able to turn to when I needed help. And there was so much that I was desperate to share, to find someone who could help me carry the heavy burden.
So I told her. Almost everything — the Dollhouse, Julian's determined pursuit of me, the real reason I'd been offered the job at Berkmore Global and exactly what I'd been doing for the last month.
Miranda listened without comment or even a change in the expression that she kept carefully neutral. When I finally finished the rush of words, my sobs had faded and the tears on my cheeks had dried to salty tracks, she stood back from me with a contemplative look on her face.
"I always thought the Dollhouse was a myth."
I let out a humorless laugh. "It seemed pretty real to me."
"I bet." She cocked her head at me. "All of that is why you thought I'd hate you."
"I thought you'd hate that I let them turn me into a whore."
"Don't you dare say that," she said sharply. "You are not a whore. You were offered an opportunity and you took it, just like plenty of girls would do in your situation. You don't have anything to be ashamed about."
I took the napkin she handed me and noisily blew my nose into it. "Do you really mean that?"
"Girl, please. If I told you about some of the nonsense I got up to when I was your age, you'd realize that this Dollhouse thing is nothing. Just wait until you find yourself hanging by your toes in a Dubai harem with a sheikh trying to decide between you and the camel you rode in on.”
"I wish I thoug
ht you were joking," I said with a chuckle. "Thank you for not judging me."
"I'm 54-years-old, working at a diner on the crappy side of town. I only wish a rich man would come by to sweep me off my feet and pay me for the privilege. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."
"Thank you. I really needed to hear that." I collapsed into the bar stool, the momentarily relief at finally having told her outweighed by the reality of my situation. "But what the hell and I supposed to do now?"
The look she cast me was sympathetic. "Does he know that you love him?"
"What makes you think that I love him?"
"Girl," she said drolly. "It is written all over your face how you feel about this man. There's a lot of things that you can hide, but you can't hide that."
"It doesn't matter how I feel," I said, overwhelmed by a wave of sadness. "He doesn't love me and that's all that matters."
She touched my shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I'm so sorry he hurt you like this, but the hurt feelings will fade over time. After a while you'll barely be able to remember his name."
I sincerely doubted that I would forget the name of the man who got me pregnant. But I obviously couldn't tell Miranda that. I didn't want anyone to know about the pregnancy until I had decided exactly what I was going to do about it.
"What are your plans now that you're back?" Miranda asked, obviously clued into the fact that a change of subject was in order. "Are you coming back here to work."
"No," I shook my head vehemently. "I need to keep moving forward, you know. If I just go back to doing what I was doing, I might not ever get another chance to change my life." I realized belatedly that sounded like I thought I was too good to be a waitress here with her. "This place isn't bad, but I need to do something else."
The small smile that quirked in the corner of Miranda's lips said she knew what I was trying to say. "I know how it is, honey. A smart, pretty girl like you needs to be in a place that appreciates all that she has to offer. Hell, I might be heading out right behind you."
I raised my eyes at that. "You're gonna quit the diner?"
Miranda was like a fixture in this place and I couldn't quite imagine it without her. Mr. Valentino, the owner, was never around and practically had her run it for him, not that she got paid enough for all the time that she put in.
"Remember I was telling you about those nursing classes?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"I'd been putting it off because there's a lot of classes you've got to take as pre..pre weeks.."
"Prerequisites?"
"Yeah, that. It's gonna take me a year of taking stuff like biology and math — basic things like that. So I stopped thinking about it for awhile because that just seems like more than I'd be able to do. But now that you're gone, this place just isn't the same. I think it might be time for me to move on too.”
"I think that's a great idea," I told her solemnly. "We both deserve more than we've been getting."
"And now I'm thinking, now that you're back and the thing with Berkmore didn't work out, that maybe we could take a few of the basic classes together. It'd be a big help to me, definitely. I haven't been in school in more than a decade and I'm not sure I could stick with it without some help."
The expectant look she gave me was so full of hope and encouragement that I wasn't sure how to respond. "I don't know if I can handle going back to school right now. Momma isn't out of the hospital yet and things are chaotic."
"Just one class, just to get our toes wet," she said, her tone prodding. "You already said you're not coming back here and it doesn't sound like you've got another job lined up. I was looking into it and we'd both qualify for some financial aid."
"Miranda..."
"C'mon girl, this is opportunity knocking. Just say yes. What do you have to lose?"
"Okay, fine. One class."
She clapped her hands together. "I'm so excited. This is a new chapter starting for us, baby girl. I can just feel it."
I smiled wanly, unable to share in her joy. Just tell her, the voice inside of me urged. But I couldn't do it. Because as laid back as Miranda seemed now, if she knew I was pregnant her reaction would almost certainly change. She wouldn't let me get away with ignoring it.
And she would tell Momma.
"I've got to run," I said. "Let me know about the class stuff."
"Believe me, I will. You're not going to weasel out of this one."
I turned to go and a heaviness settled over me like someone had draped me in something cold and heavy. Dread.
Because I could pretend and ignore it as long as I wanted, but eventually all of the walls I had so carefully erected around myself were going to come crashing down.
The single knock was so light that I almost missed it. When I opened the door, Zach was standing in the hallway, his hands full with two large brown grocery bags.
"Sorry, I'm late."
"It's okay," I said, gesturing for him to come inside. "We're just getting started."
"Awesome," he said, kicking the door closed behind him.
Momma would be coming home from the hospital today and I had invited Zach over to have dinner with us. Partly because I wanted to se him again — I'd forgotten how relaxing and fun he was to be around — but also to keep a buffer between me and Momma for as long as I could. She wouldn't ask me any awkward or probing questions with a stranger in the house.
"Did you get everything on the list?" I asked Zach as he followed me into the kitchen.
"Pasta, ground beef, onions and mozzarella cheese," he confirmed. "They were having a sale on wine, so I grabbed a bottle. I hope your mom doesn't mind."
"Um..." I hesitated, not sure of what to say without raising his suspicions. "Momma isn't a big drinker, she thinks it's a sin."
"Ah, got it." He slipped the bottle back into the bag and pushed it to the back of the counter. "I'll just take it home."
"Don't worry about," I said as reassuringly as I could. I hated to make him feel bad, but I couldn't just come out and say sorry, I can't drink because I'm pregnant.
"What're we making?" he asked.
"Lasagna. It's my mom's favorite. We should just have enough time to get it ready before she gets home."
Miranda was picking my mom up from the hospital as soon as her shift was over, which gave us about two hours to get everything ready. It would be nice to sit down with my family and have dinner.
"What can I do?" Zach asked, pushing back the sleeves of his shirt.
"Put some water on to boil the noodles."
"Got it."
He moved around me in companionable silence as I chopped up the garlic and onions for the sauce that simmered on the stove. His presence was nice — companionable and undemanding. I could just be with him without desperately wondering what he wanted from me.
Not like Julian.
I shook myself hard to chase thoughts of him away. Julian was part of my past and that was where he needed to stay.
"You okay?” Zach asked, obviously noting the movement.
"Totally fine," I said, forcing a light tone. "Maybe somebody just walked across my grave."
"Dark. I like it."
Zach leaned against the counter and watched me chop the vegetables. "You know, I'm still wondering what made you decide to call me."
I glanced quickly over at him than away, so not in the mood for any deep discussions. "You're fun to hang out with, that isn't enough?"
"Sure, I'm just trying to figure out what makes you tick."
"There's not much to figure out," I murmured. "I'm pretty much an open book."
He scoffed. "Now, I know that's not true. You've had this aura of mystery around you from the day we met."
"Aura of mystery," I repeated. "What does that even mean?"
"You show up out of nowhere at the catering thing and make this big splash and then disappear, practically into thin air. I randomly see you again when I deliver flowers at that diner where you work and you act like talking to me is a fate
worse than death. Then you call me out of the blue and we go on one of the best dates that I've ever had. And then you just disappear again."
I could feel his heavy gaze on me but I don't turn to look because I don't want to see the expression on his face. His voice was no longer light and teasing, but carried an emotion that I couldn't quite name. "What's your point, Zach?”
"My point is that I was cool when we you called me out of the blue to pick you up from the hospital. I figured, hey she needs help and I'm probably the only one who will show up. But then you actually called me up and invited me over for dinner, which kinda says to me that you at least want to be friends."
"I do want to be friends.”
"Well then, there are a few things that I have to know."
I sighed and set my knife down on the cutting board so I could turn and face him. The expression on his face was very serious and I felt the first stirrings of dread. "What do you need to know?"
"Did I do something, the night of our date? Is that why you never called me again?" He actually sounded hurt, which did make me feel a little bad.
"You didn't do anything," I reassured him. "I told you the truth back then. I wasn't in a place right then to start a relationship and that's still true now."
"Is it because of that guy who ran after you at the benefit."
My shoulders tightened and I turned back to the cutting board so he wouldn't see the expression on my face. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I saw the two of you together, remember. You told me at the time that it was nothing, but now I'm not so sure."
"What do you want from me, Zach? I've told you everything you need to know. There isn't anything else to say."
"Are you with that guy — the suit?" he pressed. "Is that why you don't want to be with me?"
"Stop it," I cried. "That's enough. I want you to be my friend Zach, really, but I can't promise you any more than that — at least not right now. Can you handle that or do you need to leave?"
He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. I watched the play of emotions cross his face. Eventually, the angry cast of his features melted into a look of contrition. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up like this. You're right, we're friends. You don't owe me anything else."