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Calm as can be.
Like he hadn’t just thrown a wrench into my inner workings, making everything start to malfunction.
It was ridiculous.
I’d been akidback then.
It had been years.
There was absolutely no reason for me to be as impacted by the information as I was right then as I dropped down off of numb legs back onto my seat.
“Girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jazzy, one of the owners, said as she wiped down the table beside mine.
“Something like that,” I agreed, cradling my mug between my hands.
“You just got back into town and it looks like you’re about to hop back out again,” she said, brows pinching as she looked down at me.
Was I?
It would be easier, wouldn’t it?
To just keep running.
Away from my past. Away from the shit I never fully worked through because, again, it was easier just to keep moving, keep ahead of it.
I’d done Europe to death. But I could jump to a different continent. Maybe explore the unique cultures I could find in Asia. Go check out the giant bats and crabs in Australia. Or maybe check out my Ma’s heritage in South America.
There was plenty more to explore.
More places to hide away in.
But no matter where I went, how far toward the end of the Earth I got, I could never hide from myself, could I?
Besides, it felt good to be home. To spend more than a couple of weeks with my family. To maybe catch up with friends I’d lost touch with over the years.
For the first time in a long time, I wanted to stay.
But if I was going to stay, I was going to need to finally deal with my shit.
“I’ve been a flight risk,” I admitted to Jazzy. “But I think I am putting down roots this time,” I told her. Then added, without actually thinking it through for a solid second, “I think my roots just might need to be planted in the Henchmen clubhouse though.”
“Oooh, shit,” Jazzy said, that big, knowing grin of hers letting me know that she had already put the pieces together.
Each town had their “keepers of humanity.” Sometimes it was the old biddies sitting in their lawn chairs gossiping, watching out their curtains at night, minding everyone else’s business. In others, it was the local barkeep, listening to everyone’s sob stories and helping them celebrate their successes.
In our town, though?
Yeah, it was Gala and Jazzy who knew all of the shit that went down in town.
They’d been there, after all. Because their coffee shop was my favorite place in town.
They’d seen me with one guy.
Then they’d seen me with another.
And then they never saw me again.
Because I’d been running from my problems for so damn long.
