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“I’m sorry, Grace. I have to get something.” I had to get out of there or I was quite sure I was going to start uncontrollably sobbing. The tough, pick-myself-up act from a few minutes ago was fading fast as the realization of what a horrible day it was turning out to be settled into my bones. I wanted nothing more than to be behind the basement door, the mildewy storage area my only company.
“Okay, but...”
“I promise, Grace, I’ll listen. Just give me a few minutes.” I rushed to the door, feeling bad for brushing her off but needing to find the silence I needed.
Chapter Five
I headed down the steps and continued with my existential crisis, the search for silver platters, and the questioning of why everything just had to be so hard.
The wind whipped. I found the box. You know the story, and if you don’t, well, go back to the beginning of mine.
The part you really need to know is this: At what I thought was the lowest point of my adult life, when everything was amiss and I told myself things couldn’t get worse, oh did they.
Because as I was opening the door to head back out into Tino’s and face the music in every way, some tall figure picked that specific moment to also seek refuge in the basement. And as I fell to what I was sure was my death, the box of silver platters clanking all about, I heard a distinct British accent shout, “Oh no.”
Everything faded to black. End scene.
Except it wasn’t the end scene. It was just the beginning. I just didn’t know it then when I lie on my back on the filthy basement of Tino’s, blank stillness washing over my tired body.
