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Chapter 2
Even if they hadn’t wound up together, Abby would have never forgotten the day that Randall first visited the Java Stop. It was a sweltering day in April, a few weeks before she would graduate from college. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, coated in sweat, a grubby cast on his hand and wrist. To Abby, he looked like a bum. Some forgettable old man.
“Christ, it’s brutal out there,” he told her. He pulled a wad of napkins from the dispenser on the counter and wiped off his face with them.
“Yeah, it’s hot,” she said.
“I’m out for a walk. Keeping busy while I’m recovering,” he explained, waving his hand in the air.
“That’s too bad,” she told him.
“I could get used to this,” he said a moment later.
“Used to what?” She thought he meant having a broken wrist, or whatever it was that was wrong with him.
“Not working. I could get used to being lazy.”
“Lazy can be good,” she agreed.
“Make me a lettuce wrap.”
When she served it to him she could see he was disappointed and surprised that it was literally food wrapped in lettuce.
“Give me a cookie and a turkey sandwich instead,” he told her. Then he’d lurked there for two hours. At that time in Abby’s life this wasn’t unusual. Guys hung around everywhere she went. She was magnetic, despite her blasé attitude and open disdain. She thought nothing of Mr. Lettuce Wrap. He looked like he was old. Forty at least. Maybe fifty.
“Creeper,” said her co-worker Tara after Randall finally left.
“Totally.”
A moment later the coffee shop phone rang.
“Abby, it’s your grandmother,” said Tara.
“I don’t think so. My mom’s mom has Alzheimer’s and my dad’s mom is about a hundred and wouldn’t know how to find me here.”
“Well, it’s some old lady and she says she’s Abby’s grandmother,” said Tara, holding her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone.
“I think that’s impossible,” Abby insisted, taking the phone.
“Abby?” asked a shaky voice.
“Yes? Grandma?” She recognized the voice. It was in fact her father’s mother.
“Oh, Honey, I’m glad you’re there. Your roommate told me to call here.”
“Okay?”
“Abby, sit down.”
“Uh huh,” she said, half listening. She and Tara were watching the man with the cast hesitating before the burger place down the street.
“Mr. Lettuce Wrap need more food,” said Tara, speaking in a caveman voice. Abby smirked. Sure enough, he went inside the restaurant.
“Sweetie?” her grandmother continued. “Brace yourself.”
Abby returned her focus to her grandmother, who had always been silly. As in strange. Who said things like ‘Brace yourself’? Abby kept standing. “Okay, I’m sitting. What’s wrong, Grandma?”
“There’s been a car accident.”
