Page 56 of A Taste of Vanilla

“Most things are.”

“I hate when you’re wise,” I grunt.

“I hate when people notice.”

My phone buzzes again, and I don’t look at it.

When Oliver heads outside with a bag of trash, the silence settles around me. I stand behind the counter, listening to the city outside. Tires on uneven pavement, someone laughing on the sidewalk. The building settles around me like it’s tired, too.

For the first time since Grant’s office, the silence doesn’t feel like punishment.

My phone buzzes again, and this time I look.

BOAT SHOE JUDAS

Please don’t make me chase you.

My stomach twists at the non-apology, and before I can think, I open his contact and block the number.

Oliver comes back in, looking around. He sees my face. “What happened?”

“I blocked him. I feel sick.”

A flicker of something that looks like pride crosses his face. “That can happen when you stop drinking poison, Hal.”

I look at him.

He shrugs. “I read things sometimes.”

“Newspapers?”

“Sometimes. And the internet, but it’s against my values.”

I laugh softly.

He crosses the kitchen and stops a few feet away. Not too close, and not touching. Just close enough. “You’re doing it,” he says.

“Doing what?”

“Coming back.”

That night, after Oliver leaves to open Saints & Sinners and Marley texts me seventeen thousand follow-up reminders disguised as memes, I climb the stairs to the apartment over the bar.

I shower, the pipes screaming the entire time because apparently everything in this building is going through something.

I put on clean leggings, an oversized T-shirt, and fuzzy socks from a Christmas present I shoved into my back seat, then sit cross-legged on my mattress with my sketchbook open in front of me.

For the first time in months, I draw without wondering if it’s too silly.

I draw a coastline and a crooked forest. A town built around a bakery. A road leading away from it.

My phone stays quiet. Grant is blocked. The bakery is locked. My friends are close. The squirrel is alive, and so am I.

This isn’t peace. Not yet. But it’s something, and today, something is enough.

five

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