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Today had been health and safety training at the office, and the various injuries that could occur in such a safe work environment had been laugh-worthy for a former Blue Rabbit employee. But this was Willow Creek, and neck and eye strain were the worst workplace hazard Linda in HR could think of.
Willow Creek had turned out to be as idyllic and sweet as Fred had promised. Best of all, the community had taken me in when I’d been broken. It had taken two months to stop waiting for Kirill to storm through the office door and drag me back.
I didn’t know if it was relief or disappointment when I stopped jumping every time the little bell above the door jingled.
I worked at the front desk at an insurance place. I’d finally gotten a job that didn’t involve short shorts, making it the best job I’d ever had.
Fred had let me rent a room from him, though I knew he was going far too easy on me with rent. He felt sorry for me since I spent nearly every morning on my knees in front of the toilet, puking my guts out.
So far, the baby and I were getting along about as well as their father and I did. We had a tumultuous relationship, to put it mildly. But despite my lack of appetite and weight loss from morning sickness, fatigue and hormones, there were stolen moments late at night when I put my hand on the slight swell of my belly and imagined a little person in there. Half me, half Kirill, the only man I’d ever loved. No matter how the baby had been conceived, it was a product of love, and I couldn’t forget that.
I signed the training sheet and left the office for the evening. I finally had a job that stopped when the sun went down, and it felt good to go to bed every night when my body wanted to. I was taking extra classes online to get better at office admin and hanging with Fred, mostly watching old movies or having him thoroughly beat me at chess. It was a quiet, perfect life, but I couldn’t escape the loneliness.
When I was desperate to sleep at night, Kirill’s ghost always came to me. Dark and possessive, the memories of his touch tormented me, making me ache to have his body pressing mine deep into the mattress.
I wanted to disappear into him. I wanted to miss him less.
My life had taken a drastic turn in the last few months. For the longest time, I’d been thrown from life to life with nothing to hold on to. Now, I had something. Someone. The baby was my tether to reality, making every second of the day frighteningly real. Everything I did, every choice I made, was no longer solely for me. It was for someone else too, which added weight to everything that was a struggle to carry.
Sometimes I woke in the morning sure that leaving Kirill like I had was the most selfish thing I’d ever done. Other times, I was certain that protecting my unborn baby was the most selfless thing I’d ever done.
I left the office and wandered along the pretty Main Street. I worked smack dab in the center of a small parade of shops and saw the same people every day. I waved to Sam, the grocer, as I walked past. He was shutting up shop for the day and heading home to his wife and newborn son. Further along the street, Elsie from No Filter, the local kooky coffee place, gestured to me madly from inside. She made a mean caffeine-free dirty chai, but tonight, I was beat and pulled an apologetic face as I continued.
I usually took the bus back to Fred’s from the corner of Maple and Main, and I could see the shape of it approaching from the other direction. I sped up, power walking New York style, to the bus stop and fished change from my wallet. On the bus, I settled in my usual seat and stared at the warm evening sunshine across Main Street. Willow Creek was a dream-like escape from the problems that had plagued me in New York. Folks were kind, and life was slow and steady. I had a roof over my head and a job I didn’t hate.
I could live here forever and never have a reason to complain. That knowledge sat heavily with the unhappiness inside me. The truth was, I missed the city. I missed my friends, the traffic, and the chaos. I missed the energy vibrating on the sidewalk as a million soles walked it day in and out.
Most of all, I missed him.
I missed him with every breath. His presence was all around me, and he was the first thought in my head every morning. Well, second now, after the baby. But thinking about the baby made me think of him, too. I was completely fucked up and dissatisfied with a lovely town and a perfectly safe and orderly life.
I’d never felt more broken and angrier at the world than I did in Willow Creek. The contrast between the perfectly functioning residents and me only worsened my turmoil. Did I belong in a place like this?
No, and you never will. The voice inside my head had changed timbre over the long, lonely nights.You don’t belong anywhere, and neither do I. We only belong together. Nothing else matters. Kirill’s voice had become that inner voice, tormenting me more every day.
Sometimes, I thought I was going mad or my pregnancy hormones were doing a number on my head. The bitter truth was that Kirill had used me, lied to me, and attempted to control my future in a way I could never forgive. It was stunning how many times I had to remind myself of that. Love truly was the greatest weakness.
At Fred’s, I stepped inside to the delicious aroma of Italian cooking. Fred’s son, Leo, was a great cook and ran the best restaurant in town. The nights when Leo cooked were the highlight of my week. I toed off my boots and hung up my coat. Heading to the kitchen, I veered to the stove and inhaled deeply. Garlic, basil, and sausage enveloped me in a cloud of hot steam, and I groaned.
“You’re not stealing a taste, right?” Leo asked behind me.
I jumped guiltily, turning quickly and shaking my head.
He laughed as he strolled toward me. “I’m kidding. I need a taste tester. You know Fred. He says everything’s good.”
“Oh, right. So you’re looking for a critique?” I unwound my scarf from my neck. Even though it was spring, I was still chilled. Fred was always handing me various knitted items he made as he watched his game show, a tip from his nurse on how to stave off his Parkinson’s symptoms and keep his hands dexterous. He didn’t understand that the cold bothering me lived inside my chest.
“You’re the only person ever to tell me my chicken parm was ‘a touch dry.’ So yeah, I’d love a critique from the most brutal foodie in Willow Creek.”
I laughed, relaxing in Leo’s non-pushy presence. He was older than me by about ten years and came to visit his dad a lot. “Okay, fine. You’re practically forcing me to find fault now to maintain my reputation as a discerning foodie,” I warned him as I took the spoon he was holding.
Instead of passing it over, he put it to my mouth. I stiffened as he waited expectantly for me to open my mouth. I obliged, not wanting to make things awkward, but I was uncomfortable. Not only did it remind me of Kirill, but there was something too vulnerable about it. Too intimate. Leo shifted closer as I tasted the sauce and raised an eyebrow.
“Hmm, damn,” I swore, pulling a face.
His eyebrows jerked up, surprised by my reaction. “It’s bad?” He sounded crushed.
“No, it’s perfect. It’s a shame I’m endangering my cool rep,” I told him.
