“You were worried I’d change my mind about having coffee with you?”
Silence permeated the kitchen, punctuated by the energetic burbling of the coffee percs. Skye and Edie looked at each other across the small space, each obviously trying to figure out how the conversation had veered so off course so quickly. Edie knew it was her fault. She needed to make it right, but Skye spoke before she could.
“Let’s start again, okay?” Skye waited for Edie’s nod. “It’s good to see you, Edie. I’m looking forward to having coffee with you after the meetings tonight.” Her cheeks coloured light pink.
Edie took a breath. She could do normal conversation. She even used to be good at it.
“Me, too. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
“Yeah,” Skye said and smiled.
Edie returned the smile, feeling her thoughts settle for the first time in a long time. She’d climb her way back to normal again. So she’d made a stupid decision and been knocked back a few steps. Edie heard the echo of the drumbeat from the bar, and her heart rate accelerated to match it. She had a flash memory, with Faina’s hands on her wrists and someone else’s voice in her ear. Words drifted by with the beat. Was it lyrics she’d been hearing?
“Edie?”
The church kitchen. The smell of coffee. Skye looking worried. Edie shook her head lightly.
“Sorry. I’m here.” Am I?
“Is something wrong?”
“It’s been a rough week.”
Skye nodded like she understood. Maybe she did.
“Will you tell me about it?” Skye said.
Edie checked her watch. The meeting would be starting soon. “Sure, I can admit my recent failures. But I expect some in return. Deal?”
“Deal,” Skye said, and she pushed herself away from the counter. “Let’s make a coffee delivery.”
Once the coffee was delivered and chairs set up, Skye disappeared upstairs and Edie settled into her meeting. Dr. Wallace was working upstairs with the PTSD group tonight. Her colleague, a gentle giant of a man, facilitated Edie’s group, asking guiding questions and encouraging the participants to reflect and articulate their journeys through a brain injury.
Edie spent most of the hour and a half trying to regulate her emotions. She worked at riding out the rough waves, building evidence of her amazingly fast recovery, listing all the things she could do now that she couldn’t just a few weeks ago, focusing on the flame of heat in her chest that was her coffee date with Skye. By the end of the meeting, she was drained but balanced. She could recognize the victory in that.
After helping put away chairs, Edie said good night to the facilitator and took the nearly empty coffee perc back up the stairs. The kitchen was empty, though Edie knew Skye’s group finished first. Edie washed out the coffeepot and arranged the kitchen, wondering about Skye’s absence. As she considered going to look for her, Edie’s phone rang. She checked the screen and saw it was her brother, Shawn. They’d texted only briefly in the last few days. She picked up the call.
“Hey, little brother.”
“Hey, E.” Her brother sounded tired.
“What’s going on? You at work?”
“Yeah. Just finished eight hours of surgery that should have been one.”
“So a long fucking day.”
Shawn barked out a short laugh. “A long fucking day,” he agreed.
Edie listened to the silence on the other end. She could picture her younger brother pulling himself together.
“You need to go home, Shawny,” Edie said gently. “Let Anna remind you that you’re a gifted surgeon with a big heart, and those kids and families are lucky to have you.”
“Yeah. Thanks, E.”
“Anytime. That’s what big sisters are for.”
“I’ve always wondered,” Shawn snorted. “So why did you want me to call you? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Edie said, deciding not to tell Shawn about her temporary setback. He and Anna had spent enough time worrying about her recovery. “I just had a question for you. After my accident last year, did you go to my office on campus and pick up some boxes of my stuff?”
“Yes,” Shawn said, sounding surprised. “You were adamant. It was just easier to do it than argue with you.”
Edie felt a shiver of despair at having no memory of these conversations.
“Do you need it? I can find where—”
“No, Shawny. It’s fine. It’s just…”
What could she say? It’s just that my brain has been hijacked by paranoia. I think I’m being followed. That someone is stealing my belongings. That maybe I’m losing the battle with my sanity.
“E?”
“I’m good. Really. Thanks for calling me back.”
Just then Skye rounded the corner with the coffee perc. She saw Edie was on the phone and started to back up. Edie waved her in.
“Listen,” he said. “I’ve got to check on a patient before I head home. You want to come over this weekend? It might be warm enough to barbecue, and Elly and Colin would love to see you.”
“Yeah, that might work. I’ll text you. Love you, little brother.”
“Love you, E.”
Skye was quietly unpacking the cart when Edie finished the call.
“My brother,” Edie said, indicating her phone.
“Everything okay?” Skye said as she hopped up on the counter.
“Yeah. Shawn’s a surgeon specializing in pediatric oncology. He has some rough days.”
“I’ll bet.”
Edie shook her head free of her unsettling thoughts. “Ready to head out?”
Skye grimaced. “Dr. Wallace is still in with one of the guys from the group. He’s on edge, and I’m not really comfortable leaving her alone. I’d like to help pack up and walk Dr. Wallace to her car. I’m really sorry.”
“No problem,” Edie said, trying not to show her disappointment. Neither of them moved from their spot on the counter, and the silence stretched until they both grinned at each other across the small space.
“This is really no different than a coffee shop,” Skye said into the silence. “Can I take your order?”
Edie laughed. “A grande mocha with whipped soy and cinnamon sprinkles, please.”
“Roger that,” Skye said. She grabbed a paper cup and pulled the spigot on the coffee perc, added a packet of sugar and a splash of milk and handed it to Edie. “Your grande mocha, ma’am.”
Edie laughed again. She loved the way being around Skye made her feel so much lighter. Anticipatory. The thought of spending even ten minutes in this community church kitchen just talking with Skye suddenly seemed like a huge gift. Edie took a sip of coffee.
“It’s a shit grande mocha, but I’ll take it,” Edie said, her eyes dancing mischievously.
Skye muttered something that sounded like “coffee snob,” but Edie could see the laughter in her eyes as she prepared her own coffee and settled back on the counter.
Then suddenly there was silence, as if they’d just transitioned from casual acquaintances to two women on a date. It had been a long time since Edie had gone on a date. She remembered that she usually felt confident. Hopeful it would work out but not too invested if it didn’t. This not quite date in a run-down kitchen with shit coffee at nine thirty on a Thursday night with Skye felt important. Edie wanted this to go well, and she didn’t know where to start. She shifted into journalist mode, a place of comfort.
“So, I know you own a tech company and you used to serve in some capacity in the armed forces. Is there a connection between the two?”
Skye tilted her head back and forth. “Yes and no.”
Edie waited for more.
Skye seemed to take the silence as a cue to continue. She took a breath and straightened her spine, as if she was about to give a report. “I’ve always been interested in the technology, ever since I was a kid. I started at the Royal Military College when I was seventeen and got my Bachelor of Science in computer science. I als
o trained as an infantry officer and led a light infantry battalion with the Royal Canadian Regiment. My plan was to stay for the three years I owed the CAF, then work private security to raise the capital to open my own business.”
“And is that what you did?”
“No, I re-upped. So another five years with the Royals before taking my leave. Then I worked private security in the UAE for two years. Long hours, good pay. I’ve been back in Ottawa about that long.”
Edie wanted to ask so many questions. Why the re-up? Why the Royal Military College? Why infantry?
“Why didn’t you become an intelligence officer?” Edie said. “Wouldn’t that have fit better with your education?”
Skye’s expression darkened, but she covered it quickly with a shrug. “I could have. But I joined the armed forces to serve. Boots on the ground, that kind of thing,” she said vaguely.
Skye’s story interested Edie, and she got the sense they were barely scratching the surface. She took a sip of her coffee, silently counseling herself to be patient.
“Five years,” Edie mused. “You must have gained rank in that time. Captain?”
Skye looked surprised. “Major,” she responded. “You know a lot about the armed forces.”
Edie reminded herself this was a date, not an interview. She liked Skye and, more importantly, her gut was saying she could trust Skye.
“I spent two years in Afghanistan,” Edie said. “I wasn’t embedded with Canadian troops, but I spent a lot of time around them.”
“As a journalist,” Skye said. Edie noted how often Skye made questions as statements.
“Right. I started there on assignment with Sun News. I wasn’t a war correspondent, not by training and not by interest. Mostly I focused on humanitarian, cultural, and historical angles. I did that for about six months and then ended up working with a humanitarian aid organization and took freelance writing gigs wherever I could.”
Edie could feel the heat of Afghanistan against her skin. Her time there had been tumultuous, satisfying, and scary. She’d made lasting friendships and had a brief, intense relationship with a fellow aid worker from Germany.
Edie opened her eyes to find Skye watching her.
“You liked it there,” Skye said softly.
“I did. The Afghani families I met were good, solid people. Their sense of independence and community is so different from the more isolated North American way we grew up. Most of my job as an aid worker was to organize resources and supports more efficiently. Basically I was trying to help them help themselves. But government aid agencies aren’t known for efficiency.”
Skye laughed. “Try working with the army,” she said wryly.
Edie grinned.
Just then Dr. Wallace came into the kitchen. She looked tired. Edie checked her watch and noticed it was almost eleven.
“Ah, you two didn’t need to stay,” she said.
“It’s no problem,” Skye said. “All done for the night?”
“Yes. And ready for a bubble bath and a glass of wine,” she groaned.
“I’ll clean up in here and then walk you out,” Skye said.
“And I’ll help with the chairs,” Edie added.
“I’m going to model good self-care and accept your offers of assistance,” Dr. Wallace said. “Bless you both.”
Less than ten minutes later, the three women were on the street in front of the community church. They could hear street sounds a few blocks up, the bars and restaurants of the Byward Market just now in full swing. Edie and Skye walked Dr. Wallace to her car, said their good nights, and waved as she drove off.
Edie felt tired, but she didn’t want this night to end.
“Want to grab a drink or something to eat?” she said to Skye.
Skye checked her watch. “Rain check? I’ve got a meeting that starts in about half an hour.”
Edie considered this. What kind of meeting started at midnight?
“A work meeting,” Skye clarified, obviously reading Edie’s confusion.
“At midnight.”
“Uh, yeah,” Skye said. She shifted her balance, clearly uncomfortable.
“Time difference?” Edie pushed.
“No.”
Edie waited, but Skye didn’t offer anything more. The light from the front of the church cast Skye mostly in shadow. Edie couldn’t read her expression, but she understood from the set of her shoulders that Skye was feeling defensive. Edie got the sense she was being brushed off. She didn’t want to end the evening that way, but she couldn’t find another way out.
“I can show you,” Skye blurted into the silence. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and held them stiffly down at her sides. Her words and her body language conflicted.
“Show me what?” Edie said, confused.
“The meeting. It’s virtual. My loft is just around the corner. If you want to.”
Edie weighed Skye’s offer with her clear reluctance. She went with her gut. “Okay, I’d like that.”
Skye relaxed her shoulders. “Let me just text the guys so they know to expect someone new.”
Skye indicated with a tilt of her head which way they should walk, then pulled out her phone and tapped away quietly. Edie waited until Skye had shoved her phone back into her pocket before she asked her questions.
“Why do you have a meeting set for midnight? Who needs a warning that I’ll be showing up? Is it weird I’ll be at the meeting?”
Skye looked at Edie and grinned.
“Definitely a journalist,” she muttered, then answered the questions. “We call it the Twelve and Twelve, or mostly just the Twelve. Because we never meet in person, all my employees know they can check in at noon and midnight every day if they have questions or if they just want to connect or to collaborate on a project. The virtual office is available twenty-four seven, and there’s a bulletin board where anyone can leave a message. Some of my employees rarely log in to the daily meetings, some show up for every one, and I have one employee who hangs out in the Twelve all day.”
“Why?”
Skye shrugged. “He says he likes it. Says he feels connected even when no one is there. It’s a social environment without most of the stressors of a social environment.”
Edie ran through what little she knew of autism spectrum disorders and post traumatic stress disorder. She knew social interaction could be a barrier for both.
“And he’s the kind of guy who would want a heads-up that you were bringing someone new to the meeting.”
“Right.”
Skye indicated they should turn down a side street. Edie noted they were moving parallel to her own apartment, but about four blocks away. She also felt a tightening across her shoulder blades. The sensation was familiar. Edie didn’t want it to be. She ignored it.
“You didn’t tell me about your bad week,” Skye said.
Edie laughed shortly. “It was pretty shitty. Worse than your grande mocha.”
“Hey now,” Skye protested, laughing. Edie didn’t say anything more. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to listen for echoing footsteps behind them. “Will you tell me more?” Skye said.
Edie sighed then told Skye about Monday night’s incident at the bar. She found herself caught up in the story, more so even than with Dr. Wallace. She tried to remember and describe those last few seconds before her memory got swallowed up by the misfired neurons.
Edie came back into herself suddenly. She was aware again of her surroundings, aware that Skye at some point had put her hand lightly against her back. Aware that Skye’s whole body was tight and she was walking slightly behind Edie.
“What–?”
“Keep walking,” Skye said. Her voice was low, her words clipped. She guided Edie with a hand to her lower back. Edie had been hoping for gentle and connected, but it felt commanding and protective instead. “Creepy guy behind us. Been there at least a block. Take the next left, three doors down is a steel blue door. It will be open.”
“But—”
“Do it.”
Edie bristled at the command. She’d navigated Kandahar on her own for two years. She didn’t want to end this date feeling vulnerable and bossed around.
“Please,” Skye said quietly, just as they reached the end of the block. “I know it’s probably nothing. But please.”
Edie just nodded. Maybe something. The words stayed in her head as she rounded the corner, found the steel blue door, and pushed it open. A hall light came on and illuminated the bare space dominated by a set of stairs. Edie waited, muscles tight with strain, with anger at her paranoia made real. Frustration that she couldn’t think through this. Embarrassment that Skye would see her this way.
A light at the top of the stairs came on, and a door opened. Skye came out onto the top-floor landing.
“Hey. Come on up.” Skye tapped at the screen of her phone. Edie heard the locks engage on the door behind her.
“Slick,” Edie said as she climbed the stairs to Skye. “You really know how to impress a girl.”
Skye smiled distractedly as she held the door for Edie and gestured for her to enter. The landing was a small space, and they stood very close together. Edie took a moment to look into Skye’s eyes.
“What happened?”
Skye shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Try again. This time with more words.”
Edie had the satisfaction of seeing Skye’s eyes widen.
“Fine. White male in dark jeans and a light T-shirt, five-ten, short brown hair, slight accent, maybe Eastern European. I asked him for the time and where I might get a taxi. He knew the name of the cross street. Then he kept walking, and I took the back entrance to my loft.”
Silence permeated the small space between them.
“Better,” Edie whispered. Then she smiled. “And thanks.”
Skye let out a breath as Edie moved through the door. Edie felt a warmth in the pit of her stomach, knowing she had that effect on Skye.
Skye’s loft was massive—not necessarily in floor space but definitely in height. At least a floor and a half if not a full two floors of space vaulted above her. Two sides were exposed brick, a dull reddish brown patched together in swaths of concrete. The other two walls were plain whitewash, interrupted on the lower level by intermittent four-pane windows that overlooked the street.
Repercussions Page 4