Thea freezes, the smile fading from her face. She sets the pizza on the table in the corner and starts to look away.
“Look at me,” I say. My voice is calm, but icy.
Her eyes fly back to me and we stare at each other for a few moments. She is squirming under my gaze, shuffling uneasily on her feet and biting her lip.
“Um, I…” she stammers and laughs nervously. “You see…”
“Cut the crap, Thea.” I set the bottle down on the counter behind me. “There are only two people in this house and I didn’t replace the vodka with water.”
She looks down at her feet, just like she used to when she was a little girl in trouble with Caroline.
“It was her birthday,” she mumbles, “and you left me alone.”
“Are you saying this is my fault?” I shoot back.
“No,” she says quickly, backpedaling. “I just didn’t want to be alone on her birthday and you said you’d be here and I was justsosad.”
I feel about two feet tall. I’d promised not to leave her alone that day, but two of my waitresses had called out and I couldn’t get anyone to cover, and then I’d forgotten entirely with the busyness of my day.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, still looking at her feet. “I just don’t know what to do with all the sadness. Baking didn’t help.”
There’s silence for a few moments before I speak.
“I’msorry,” I say, stepping closer to her. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her. She buries her head in my hair and I feel her start crying. Her body shakes as she lets her grief out. I feel the full weight of what she’s been carrying.
“I just miss her,” she mumbles. I can barely make it out as she sobs and gasps for air.
“I miss her, too.” I gently stroke her hair in an attempt to soothe her. “But you cannot drink your grief away, do you hear me?”
She pulls away as she nods and I reach for her face, gently wiping at the tears staining her cheeks. The scent of banana bread wafts around us like a hug.
As much as I want to lecture her further, I can sense that it’s not what she needs at the moment. She needs someone to be there for her, to let her know she’s not as alone as she might feel.
“Look,” I say, “we’ve both had a hell of a day. Why don’t you eat and take a shower and get some rest? We can talk more about this tomorrow.”
Thea nods again and sniffles. “That sounds good,” she says quietly as she wipes at her nose.
I press a kiss to the top of her head.
“Sit,” I say, motioning at the table. I grab two paper plates from the other side of the kitchen. I join her and hand her a plate as she opens the pizza box. We each grab a slice from the box and begin to eat quietly, Thea picking off the vegetables.
They say actions speak louder than words, and I just hope that for today, this is enough.
Chapter Nine
It’s the Fourth of July and I wake up feeling like absolute garbage. I’ve got a stuffy nose that I can barely breathe out of, a sore throat that feels like razor blades, a heavy chest, and watery eyes — the perfect mixture for a summer cold. I feel poorly enough that I decide to take a sick day and not go into the diner; a rare occurrence for me.
Thea has settled in nicely and I know that between her, Graham, and Raquel, the diner is in good hands today. Besides, we’re closing early so that everyone can attend the annual Fourth of July festival later in the day. Driftbay knows how to throw a party when it comes to the Fourth. All of the local establishments shut down around noon to allow everyone the opportunity to experience the party.All varieties of food trucks come in, there are local vendors set up, carnival games, a giant Ferris wheel, and a marvelous fireworks show at the end of the night. Most folks tend to migrate to the beach to watch the final spectacle, but I tend to stick to watching from my porch. Thea plans to check out the excitement with her friends later.
I fall back asleep shortly after I hear her leave for the morning and wake up a couple of hours later. I’m disoriented for a moment, but I can’t ignore the grumbling of my stomach. I get up and stumble to the kitchen, only having enough energy to pop a couple pieces of bread in the toaster and grab the butter from the fridge. While it toasts, I pad down the hallway to the bathroom and flip the light on, searching the medicine cabinet for some ibuprofen for my body aches. Finding it, I shut the mirrored door and dump two pills out into my hand. I run a small glass full of water, put the pills in my mouth and throw my head back, chasing them with the water.
Setting the glass down, I lean against the counter and stare at my reflection. Gone are the youthful days of memories past, though most days I still feel twenty-eight. More and more gray hairs are sprouting, a stark difference compared to their dark brown companions. My face has fine lines and the beginnings of wrinkles, no matter how much expensive cream and serum I use. I can’t fight the ticking clock. The bags under my eyes are prominent and harsh. Today is a day I trulyfeelmy age.
The toaster dings in the kitchen and I flip the light off in the bathroom before making my way across the house. I grab the toast with one hand and a knife with the other, scooping up pats of butter.Longing to be back in bed, I toss the pieces of bread onto a paper plate and sit down at the table. I’m able to get a few bites down before I give up and toss my breakfast into the trash can.
I head back to my bedroom and press a hand to my forehead; I think I have a fever. Crawling into bed, I pull the comforter up around my neck and burrow deep in my bed to try to get rid of my chills.
The sound of incessant knocking on my front door raises me from my slumber a while later. I glance at my alarm clock; I’ve been asleep for three hours.
