CHAPTER ONE
Mark
Study, gym, eat, and repeat.
It’s been a solid three weeks of this routine, and today should be no different. It’s finally starting to feel like my life is under control again.
And my life needs control. I need control. It’s what I’m used to. It’s what I like. It makes me happy.
I’ll be the first to admit that for a moment last fall, I lost sight of what I wanted in life, but what I want now is clear as day. I’m just not sure how to go about it quite yet.
I lock my front door and turn for my truck, ready to start my daily routine, but a bobbing gray head just over the hood of my truck stops me.
“Good morning, Mr. Young,” my neighbor says as she shuffles to her car.
“Ms. Coraline,” I greet her with a smile. She’s carrying two plastic grocery bags, and they are stuffed full of something with sharp corners, because they are ripping the bags.
“May I help you?” I ask, walking a little faster but not too fast that I might slip on the ice that coats our driveways on this chilly January morning.
“No. No. I can do this.”
Now, I know for a fact that Ms. Coraline cannot drive. She hasn’t driven in more than a decade. Her grandson and his wife take her wherever she needs to go, but she refuses to give up her car. Her husband loved this car, and even though he’s passed on now, she can’t stand to see it go. And if anyone understands not wanting to give up something important in your life, it’s me.
“What do you have there?” I ask, pointing to the bags.
“Books.”
“Books, huh?” I say, relieving her of the makeshift hand weights. “These are pretty heavy. Where were you planning to take them?”
“I wanted to donate them to the library. I read them years ago, and they are just collecting dust on my shelfs. When my time comes, I want my grandson to have very little responsibility when it comes to cleaning out my house.”
“I think you’ve still got quite a few years ahead of you.”
“You’re probably right. Little by little should do it, though. Where are you off to? To talk to that pretty girl you’re having a baby with?” Her brow dances as she stares at me. “You should have talked to her weeks ago.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I know it.”
“So, what’s keeping you? And don’t give me any more of that ‘it’s complicated’ phony bologna. I want the truth.”
I chuckle, because if anyone is going to get it out of me, it’s Ms. Coraline.
When I moved in a few weeks ago, she showed up as soon as the last moving truck left. She admitted to watching through the window. Said a wild single gal lived here before me, and Ms. Coraline wanted to be sure she wasn’t going to have to call the cops on me too.
I assured her she wouldn’t be doing that, and this woman read me like the front page. Somehow, I confessed a lot more to her than to a typical stranger.
I knew from that moment that I’d be seeing a lot of her. In the last few weeks, we have had coffee together at least fifteen mornings.
“She’s not my biggest fan,” I admit.
“I know this part already. Now come inside. I have an appointment this morning, so I need to have my coffee quickly, and I’m sure your friends are waiting for you at the gym.”
“Sure, let me just put these bags in my car. I’ll drop them off for you.”
“You are too kind. Now, hurry up.”
I jog to my truck, stash the bags, and head next door. There are two coffee cups at the table when I step inside.
“Sip and spill it, dear. My grandson will be here in less than ten minutes.”
