Man up. You’ve gotten through this plenty of times before…
My chest swelled from the breath in. The tremor threatening to shake my hand steadied.
Ashley beat me to the register. She wiped her hands down the front of her apron and glanced at the random items I started unpacking on the counter.
Her eyebrows pinched together. “Angel hair spaghetti?” she asked, holding up the box.
I shrugged. “I like pasta.”
“Do you? This one seems a bit—I dunno—dainty for you. I’d guess you’re more of a pappardelle kinda man.”
I was more of a make-pasta-from-scratch kind of man, but Ashley didn’t need to know that. I’d seen her huddled with the church ladies at the village markets.Gossiping. I didn’t want anyone to know my business. Any of it. Not even pasta business.
Ashley picked up the box of spaghetti and sent it soaring for the scanner.
My jaw clenched.
Just breathe—
The beep pierced my ears like a scream. The breath I forced into my lungs did nothing, and my hand only stopped shaking when I clenched gnawed fingernails into calloused skin.
I knew better, but there I was, risking my damn dignity over a woman who didn’t know I existed. My triggers weren’t a secret. The bell. The scanner. Sharp, high noises were a one-way ticket to a flashback I couldn’t risk having in the village store.
But I battled to keep my face neutral. No one knew about the shit going on inside my head, and I planned to keep it that way.
Oblivious, Ashley kept scanning the rest of my groceries. “How’s work?” she asked. “Busy at the moment?”
“Yeah.”
“How’s everything on the mountain?”
“Quiet.”
My eyes tracked the canned tomatoes as they torpedoed across the counter. I squeezed my fist tighter as the scanner squealed. My breaths evened out.
Another one down.
“Harry stopped by this morning,” Ashley said. “He was telling me you’ve built a deck out the back of your place.”
“Yeah.”
“I bet you’ve got a nice view of the valley.”
“S’pose.”
Ashley grimaced.
I couldn’t blame her. Talking to me was like getting blood out of a stone. But what was the point of asking and answering pointless questions like “How are you?” anyway? What a waste of time. It wasn’t like I could answer honestly and say, “I’m exhausted, lonely, and wish this whole merry-go-round was just…over.”
People laughed nervously and looked for the nearest exit if I said shit like that. I’d learned that the hard way. My father passed away after seven years of silence between us. Once upon a time, I’d lived a life of service that made him—my family—proud. And I ruined it.
Ashley slid the full shopping bag across the counter. “I’d say see you next week like I used to,” she said, “but I’ve got a feeling you might forget something tomorrow.”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” I lied.
“None, huh?” She smirked. “So, you’re not interested to know your girl just headed for the post office?”
“I don’t have a girl.”
