Page 5 of Beautiful Deceit
I take a moment to look around the entryway, seeing if any other differences are noticeable. I walk slowly to the paper as if it might reach out and bite me. The thought of my fear being triggered by a minimal item, spurs my aggravation. I walk quickly to the offending paper and grab it from the seam of my box.
It's a flyer for a painting service. What? How did they even get in here? My gaze strays to the door of the vacant studio. It must have sold. The painters must have shoved it in the box on their way out, as an advertisement. Who gets their house painted that late or this early?
Crumpling the paper, I feel little relief. It just servers as a reminder that I'll never feel safe. There will never be a time when I can stop looking over my shoulder, anticipating danger.
It's hard to accept that Darryl gave up so easy, especially after all the promises he made to find me if I ever ran or tried to tell someone.
I shudder as I begin to hear his voice in my head, telling me exactly what he'd do to me when he found me.
I push my thoughts aside and focus on the day ahead. First, I need to return the bags and then open the store. I'll submerge myself in work today, eradicating these memories.
* * *
Anna and Jessare standing together huddled over a phone, both so engrossed in what they're looking at that they don't notice my approach.
"OMG!" Anna squeals. I roll my eyes. I will never appreciate text speak. "Did you hear that?" She gushes placing her hand over her heart. "I-Can't-Believe-He's-Giving-It-Up!" She says between pants. I think she might go into convulsions. She's jumping up and down. Looking at Jess and then down to the phone like she might have missed something. "I don't know if I'm sad he's done acting, or happy he's moving to New York," she whines.
"Yeah, but that's not been confirmed. They just said he was spotted at the airport. He could have been here for any reason. It doesn't mean he’s staying," Jess replies calmly, a voice of reason.
Anna's eyes are big as she finally turns to me. "I'm so excited," she mock whispers. I laugh at her exuberance.
"What's got you all a-flustered?" I ask once the door is open.
"Oh, nothing really, just the fact that my favorite actor is retiring in the prime of his career.” Her speech speeds up, and her voice goes higher with every word, “And he might be here in New York!"
I'm tempted to put my fingers in my ears and make a show of wiggling them, in an attempt to try and restore my normal hearing.
"Wow Anna. Just wow," is my only reply.
Her silly behavior is quickly forgotten as each of us tend to customers.
I talk to Jess, “I'm giving you a dollar raise. You’re vital and were missed yesterday.”
She giggles evilly, saying, "It’s all part of the plan." She winks and brews a drink so complex that I'm not sure if it still qualifies as coffee. I bow to her gracefully and retreat to my area - books. I know my books.
As the day progresses, I become absorbed in my routine, and all the memories from earlier evaporate as I find calm in my tasks. When it gets close to six, I wave to the evening crew as I head out the door. I survey the shop from the door. Every seat is occupied by someone reading or working on a laptop. Jude is particularly busy at the coffee cart. I might need to add another person to help him ring up orders. The coffee cart brings in an entirely new customer base and needs additional assistance as the store has become quite the gathering place.
It’s amazing to see the evolution of my business, and with that final thought, I exit.
The tappingof my boot heels on the concrete mixes with all the other noises of the city. I've come to love this place and consider it my home. Horns blare and voices meld into each other as I look straight ahead making sure to follow the pace of the foot traffic. It took a few months before I understood this ebb and flow. A tourist sees it as a rush of bodies barely bouncing off each other, but anyone who spends any extended amount of time in New York sees it for what it truly is - a delicate dance performed en masse. The only ones stepping on toes are the wide-eyed newbies.
* * *
I bypass my mailbox,ignoring the fact it’s the first time I've neglected it since I've lived here. The flyer this morning has me spooked.
My white washed door greets me, unadorned, in the same condition I left it. I sigh as I open it.
I take my time with dinner. I wish I didn't enjoy food as much as I do. I love it more than I want to fit into a size twelve or have a smaller ass.
I eat alone. It’s a normal routine I’ve had since Rita passed away. It usually doesn't bother me, but tonight I'm lonely.
I remember cooking with my mom, sharing a meal with Rita when I got home from school, and having a coffee with Mr. B. They all would hate to see how I've chosen to live. Rita, in particular, because she was my biggest cheerleader and always reminding me of all the great things life has to offer. If I could change, I would. I've tried going out with friends; I've even gone out on a few dates. I'm just never comfortable enough to enjoy myself with others. So, this is what I chose. I come home alone everyday so I can be comfortable, and it's usually enough.
Just not tonight.
I crawl into bed with a new book as a distraction. Hours later, it falls from my hands as I finally drift to sleep.
I wake before my alarm clock the next morning. My alarm is set a little later than usual, because I'll be at the store late for the book club. I don't have to leave for a few more hours so I take care planning an outfit. I usually have to begin the discussion, standing in front of everyone with their eyes on me. The thought makes me self conscious, so I put more effort in dressing.
