I hear a small laugh. “Okay. I’ll call next time then.”
“I’d like that.” I surprise myself with those words. “Have a great holiday. We’ll chat soon then.”
“Sounds like a plan. You have a good holiday too, Emery.” She hangs up, and as weird as that was, it was good, and I’ll take what I can get.
Grabbing the pen and paper on the table as I eat, I start my letter to my new friend.
Today was weird. Apparently, I’m doing a bad job at work, and everyone knows it. Like, my boss sent me home until after the holiday to clear my head. On one hand, I’m thankful. On the other, I wish I could just get a grip on my new reality. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to accept any reality that has me in it without Derek. It’s foreign, unfamiliar, cold, and lonely. It’s been six months, shouldn’t I be moving on by now? Should I still be feeling like my world keeps collapsing? Everything I touch is now tainted by the hands of a wife with a broken heart, longing for someone I’ll never get back. Seeping sorrow into everything and everyone around me.
God, do people feel like they walk on eggshells around me? Because I feel like I’m walking on shards of glass.
I called Derek’s mom. I’ve never said more than a few sentences to her before. It started weird, but she opened up just a tiny bit. It was nice. Awkward, but nice.
Next week is Thanksgiving, and for the first time in my life, I’m not looking forward to the holidays. At all. I think I’m going to make a list and give myself something to do to keep me busy. Reorganize. Label stuff. Learn how to change my oil. Just kidding on the last one, my dad would lose his mind if I attempted to learn that without him. Maybe I’ll have him teach me.
I’m going to go to Derek and my coffee shop tomorrow. We loved it there, they knew our names, and we were regulars, if you will. It’s going to hurt, but I’m going to do it. Don’t ask why because I don’t know.
I just know it’s time.
cordiform—heart-shaped
Emery
Can I really do this? I mean, I know I can, but do I want to? Or do I feel the need to prove something to myself? Good God, Emery, it’s a damn coffee shop, just go in. Taking a quick deep breath, I take the plunge and get out of the car, and my feet drag as my heart races. When I open the door, the sweet and rich scent of fresh coffee and pastries hit me like a brick wall. The dark rich-wood walls illuminated by overhead lights mixed with antique signs give this place such a unique vibe in addition to the great drinks. I missed this smell, this place—hell, this feeling. There’s a long line, which I figured since I came at a busy time this morning, but I have nothing but time––literally, all day. One of my favorite baristas, Harley, catches me through the glass window as she’s making a drink, and her whole face transforms. You would think she just won the big spinning wheel on The Price Is Right, but no, she’s happy to see me.
Harley holds up a finger, and I shake my head, telling her to take her time. Although the memories are bittersweet, being here kind of feels like a band-aid. I scroll through my phone as I wait, several people still ahead of me. Once it’s finally my turn, Harley practically beats the cashier with a spoon to boot them out of the way before she reaches over the counter and wraps me in a hug.
“God, I’ve been hoping and praying you would come in soon.”
“Good to see you too.” I return the hug with a genuine smile on my face. She’s probably only twenty-one, but I absolutely adore this girl.
“Emery Jean. God, I’m so sorry,” she says as she releases me from her embrace but squeezes my hand with sadness in her eyes.
“Thank you. It means a lot, truly.”
She smiles. “Whatcha want today, pretty lady? My treat.”
The other cashier speaks up, “Actually, the gentleman before her paid for her drink.”
“Seriously?” My brows pull together. “Who?” I turn and look around, but I can’t remember who was in front of me.
“The guy in the paramedic jacket, he just walked out.”
“You know what I like,” I tell Harley, and she starts entering it in the keypad while I throw a five-dollar bill down for the person behind me. “I’m gonna go say thank you.”
“Sure thing!”
I hustle out the door and look around the small parking lot for an ambulance, and I don’t see one. But I do catch him right as he’s about to get into his truck.
“Hey!” I yell across the parking lot, but my attempt goes unheard as the loud rumble of a motorcycle revs past. Looking both ways, I jog across the parking lot and yell once more, “Hey!”
That grabs his attention, and he looks at me. At first, his brows furrow, then moments later, his eyes grow big. Looking down, I’m wondering if something is on me or if I have toilet paper stuck on my shoe, but I don’t. I must’ve just surprised him. When I get closer and see him for the first time, I’m surprised by how good-looking he is, then immediately feel guilty for thinking that.
“You paid for my drink. I just wanted to say thank you,” I say through heavy breaths and hands on my hips. “Sorry, haven’t worked out in a minute, apparently,” I joke at my own expense, making us both chuckle.
When he smiles, his straight white teeth stand out against the natural tan hue of his skin. “Of course.” He has a rasp to his voice, and it’s unique.
I don’t know what else to say, so I stick my hand out. “I’m Emery.”
He puts his warm hand in mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Mason.”
“Well, I just wanted to say thanks. I’ll let you get back to your day. Have a good one, Mason.”
He bites his bottom lip to hide a smile as he looks down but peeks back up at me with his eyes. “You’re welcome, Emery. It was nice meeting you.”
He doesn’t move to get into his truck, but I give him a tight smile and wave my hand as I turn to walk back into the coffee shop. I can feel how red my cheeks are, and it’s definitely not from the cool nip in the air. When I look back at Mason one last time, he’s still standing there, staring at me with a smile on his face before running his hand through his hair and getting in the truck. I squeeze my hands into fists repeatedly, playing off my reaction to him. The more I think about it, the sicker I feel.
With the letter guy, I feel nothing but mere excitement of unknown words. Letter Guy doesn’t exist to me. We don’t ask each other about our days or pay for coffee—we just vent. Derek will always have my heart; he was everything good in my life. His dark hair made his blue eyes shine, but when he looked at me, they always lit up a bit more. He was professional and serious in his career, and light and playful with me.
My initial attraction to Mason has thrown me off. I don’t know if it’s by surprise or the fact this is all so foreign. I shake my head as Harley calls my name for my drink, snapping me out of the weird moment I had. A sense of guilt still washes through me, but I shove it to the side. The chances of me ever seeing him again are slim, so I’m not going to fret about it anymore.
“Whatcha up to today, Emery Jean?” I chuckle at the use of my first and middle name. Good one, Derek.
“You can just call me Emery, you know.” I smile at her jokingly.
“I know. Besides loving the name, I loved the way it sounded when Derek said it. It would actually feel weird just to call you Emery now.”
A genuine smile takes over as I look at my friend. “It’s so good to see you. I sure missed you.”
Her bright blue eyes outshine her blonde hair. Tattoos line her body, and they are gorgeous on her. “I love you too,” she winks, “Now, don’t be a stranger, missy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I return the wink and turn to leave. And when I do, a realization hits me.
I’m not forcing the smile on my face for the first time since Derek died.
oneirataxia—the inability to distinguish
between fantasy and reality.
Mason
I have no problem getting out of bed this morning, considering I didn’t get to sleep until well after three
a.m. It was a busy night on the town. But we didn’t lose anyone, so it was a good night. After showering, I throw on black jeans and my favorite black shirt that says ‘fuck.’ Topping it off with my leather jacket and Carhartt beanie, I’m in my truck and heading back to the coffee shop for the fourth time this week. Considering I’ve become a daily visitor since my first-time getting coffee here, I’ll chalk it up to losing my damn mind.
Or her.
Yeah, it’s definitely her. I’ve no doubt this coffee shop is great, but I’ve gone at the same time every day in hopes of seeing Emery again. God, seeing her run toward me caught me completely off guard. I don't think I’ve seen anyone more perfect. That brown hair framing her light brown eyes and lush lips––and her smile––had me tripping the first time I laid my eyes on her. But the moment I felt her hand in mine four days ago, that’s all it took. One touch, and I knew it wouldn’t be enough.
One by Metallica plays as I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “Stop fucking fidgeting,” I say to myself, shaking off my hands and pulling into the coffee shop. The moment I walk in, my eyes are everywhere, and with each face I scan that isn’t hers, my heart sinks a little more. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m acting like a fucking child coming here every day with the hopes of seeing her again.
“Well, if it isn’t our new regular,” the barista I recognize as Harley greets me, and I smirk.
“The one and only.”
She chuckles. “The same thing you’ve had the last four days, Casanova?”
I purse my lips, leaning forward on the bar, pretending to contemplate getting something else. “You know, I was thinking about being adventurous and trying something new. Like a frap-a-whatever. But you’ve convinced me to stay with my usual.”
Harley’s head falls back in laughter. “Okay, bud. Large, black coffee coming right up.” I pay and wait at the other end of the bar for only a few seconds before she calls my name. I’m about to walk out, but I’m off work today and have nothing better to do, so I take a seat and decide to read The Green Mile by Stephen King I brought with me. I’ve read it for what feels like forty-eight times, the pages are tattered and worn, but it’s what’s familiar and my go-to when I’m in a rut. Lost in the story, I forget where I am when the bell of the door catches my attention. My eyes snap up, and I freeze.
My cup freezes midway between my mouth and the table as my jaw drops. I’m shocked when I see Emery—also frozen—at the entrance. Shit, what do I do? Do I wave? Get up and go to her? Hell no, keep your ass seated. Why is she so pretty? Luckily, she breaks the tension for me with a hesitant smile and a small wave. I smile back with a nod and pretend to keep my cool while reading my book, even though my head’s flipping shit. I can’t tell ass from ear, I’m so distracted by her presence.
I peer above my book, and her back is to me as she stands deathly still. I feel like an asshole for making her so… nervous? Uncomfortable? I can’t tell, honestly. Keep it cool, Mason. Emery walks towards me, and my heart picks up pace, but I play it off. Here I am, thinking she’d come to say hi while waiting for her drink, but she’s about three feet from my table, staring at the barista as if she can’t wait to get out of here fast enough. Okay, breathe and intervene.
“Emery, hey,” I say politely with a smile.
She immediately turns to me as if she were waiting for me to say something more, stuttering a bit before she’s able to get the words out. “Oh, hey. Mason, right?” She doesn’t know who you are. Great.
“You got it. Fancy seeing you here.” Fancy seeing you here? Good Lord.
She chuckles nervously, twisting a ring on her left hand.
“You want to sit down?” I don’t know if I want her to say yes or say no. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing or what my plan is right now. As much as I hoped to see her here, I didn’t think beyond that.
“Oh, um—”
“Emery Jean, you’re good to go, girlfriend!” Harley interrupts, and Emery smiles at her before giving me a sad one.
“Sorry, I should get going. Thank you, though.” The sincerity is in her eyes. I can tell she’s unsure, and the last thing I would ever want to do is push her.
“Oh, of course. It was nice seeing you.” I flash a genuine smile, and her cheeks blush as she grabs her iced coffee.
Just as she turns to leave, I open my mouth. “Hey, Emery?” Oh no, Mason, what are you doing?
She stops and slowly turns towards me. I notice everyone is staring, so I grab my book and drink and walk towards her. Her short height is perfect against my tall frame. Making sure to keep my distance, I ask her, “Would you want to have coffee with me? Here even?”
What the fuck are you doing?
“Oh, um.” Her eyes dart around the room, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable. You already knew she was uncomfortable. Did you think asking her to have coffee was going to abracadabra poof that away?
Shaking away my rude thoughts, I return my eyes to her and decide to put her out of her misery. “How about this. I’m going to give you my number, and when you’re ready, call. Or text. If you want to, that is. Totally cool if not.” Shut up, Mason. I jot down my number on a napkin and give it to her with a smile. “Have a great day, Emery.”
At least you ended it nicely.
She’s still as a statue with my napkin in her hand as I walk out of the coffee shop. I’m praying I wasn’t too forward or disrespectful, but damn I hope she calls me.
Even if it’s in five years.
abience—the strong urge to avoid
someone or something
Emery
My feet haven’t moved an inch as the napkin in my hand feels hot enough to burn me.
“Damn, lil’ mama,” Harley jokes as she approaches me, putting her hands on my shoulders. “Emery Jean, look at me right now,” she says softly as my eyes find hers. Tears well in mine when she continues, “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong. Okay?”
I nod, snapping myself out of the moment. “Yeah. It’s… weird. These last several months have felt so long, but this made it feel like it was only yesterday. I feel dirty. Not by or because of him—he was completely respectful and doesn’t know my situation. But because of me—I feel wrong for finding someone attractive.”
“Babe, you’re a human. Humans are attractive.”
I scoff and chuckle, wiping my nose. “I know. It still feels like cheating in a way. It sounds crazy, I know.”
“Sweetie, you’re only six months in. You should sound a little crazy, and it’s going to take a lot of time. You have a lot of healing to do and a lot to learn about the new hand you’ve been dealt. Of course, you feel uncomfortable.”
I sigh and wrap my arms around her in thankfulness. “You’re the best, Harley.”
“You have a good Thanksgiving. I’ll see you after the holiday, yeah?”
“You betcha.” I smile, and she returns it, getting back to work.
What a weird morning. I debated on coming here again—I was even leaning towards no—but I told Harley I’d be by more often. Plus, it’s my favorite, so I thought eh, what the heck? But when I saw him in the corner reading, I panicked. All I wanted was for Derek to come up behind me and hold my hand. I kept waiting and waiting and waiting, but he never came. And in the midst of that heartbreaking realization, I had Mason in front of me with a book in his hand, just as shocked as I was. I’d be remiss to say he’s not attractive because he definitely is, but I am nowhere near ready for that man. Even then, I can’t deny that there’s a weird pull to him, and I’m not looking into that right now.
When I finally get to my mom and dad’s house, Drew’s car is already in the driveway, and I know she sees me lugging my bag out of the car and up the steps.
“Baby girl!” my mom yells in excitement, washing off her hands as she comes and wraps me in a hug. “Oh, I am so excited you and your sister are staying through Thanksgiving.” We start walking towards the kitchen.
“I actually am too, Mom.” I smile and pick at some of the food she’s making. “What are you making?” I ask her as my dad comes over to hug me and kiss my head. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, kiddo.” He smiles and returns to his recliner to watch ESPN.
“BBQ Chicken wraps and then that éclair cake you girls love,” my mom answers.
“Heck yes.” Just as I’m about to take a piece of chicken, a loud slap rings out, and my butt stings immediately, followed by Drew running away just as quickly as she came.
“Ugh! Just you wait, you little pest!” I rub my butt as my mouth curls up in annoyance towards my mom. “She was an accident, just admit it.”
My mom laughs and swats a kitchen towel at me as she keeps putting together dinner. “Why is everyone hitting me?”
I look over at my dad and smile. Walking over to him, I nudge his shoulder and plop down next to him, resting my head on his shoulder as he kisses the top of my head.
“How are you holding up?”
I shrug my shoulders, and I feel him shake his head. He gets frustrated when he can’t do anything to take Drew’s or my pain away.
“Alright, guys. Dinner’s ready!” my mom hollers out, and my dad and I hop up to head to the table as Drew comes downstairs, scrolling through her phone.
I smack her on the back of the head. “Sup, loser.”
She swats back at me, but I dodge it, which makes me laugh and remind me of the times when we were in high school. Family dinner. Sister fights. Sister bonding. Game night. Between my parents and sister, I got lucky. My family eats fast, and we finish dinner in record time.
I’m absolutely stuffed. “Thanks, Mom. You’ve fattened me up already.”
“Good. You’re down to skin and bones.”
I roll my eyes while she narrows hers.
The Best of Me Page 5