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He said, “You keep asking me why I’d consider selling the coffee shop, but I think the bigger question is why you haven’t once offered to buy it. Is it because subconsciously you’ve realized it’s time to do a little letting go of your own?”
I turned and walked off, thinking that it was interesting that Dad had chosen “I’m Looking Through You” to sing momentsago. The song wasn’t about a translucent ghost. I knew it to be about how sometimes, as a relationship fails, a loved one starts to disappear before your eyes, becoming unrecognizable.
In hindsight, Dad’s song choice now seemed appropriate.
Because if he thought I’d let go of my mama’s shop, her dream, then maybe he’d become someone I didn’t know anymore.
CHAPTER 15AVA
On Saturday morning Titus walked in the coffee shop door holding a slim pastry box in his hands. The second I saw him, I grabbed a rag and scurried out from behind the counter. “Rose! Someone here for you,” I yelled toward the storage room.
Titus flashed me a conspiratorial smile, which completely vanished when Rose came hurrying toward the front of the shop. At the sight of her, he adopted a serious, contemplative look, lowering his eyebrows and pursing his lips. He turned his attention to the menu board.
Rose’s steps faltered when she saw him standing there, and she turned slightly to throw daggers my way.
I grinned and gave her two thumbs up.
Rolling her eyes, she wiped her hands down her apron and scooted behind the register. “Good morning, Titus. What can I get for you this fine morning?”
I glanced at Mrs. Pollard, who sat next to her recipe. She’d been a fixture here this past week, but I suspected today would be the last day she’d camp out at that table. On Monday, a new recipe would go up on the board. She winked at me, propped her elbows on the table, and put her head in her hands as she openly watched Titus and Rose.
“Good morning, Rose. Let’s see, let’s see.” He tapped his chin. “I think I’ll have, oh,hmm,a small iced matcha latte, add a double shot of espresso, add chai, add lavender syrup.”
There was a feisty light in her eyes when she said, “Matcha, chai, lavender? A wonderful choice. One of our most popular. Give me a sec, and I’ll get that ready for you, lickety-split.”
As she went about pouring him a cup of plain black coffee,outside the wide front window I saw Sam walk by, leash in hand. He glanced into the shop and saw me watching him and smiled. I waved. He bent low, and I imagined him tying the leash to the hook next to the door.
Warmth flooded my cheeks. I was still a little embarrassed by what had happened yesterday.
Last night I’d done my best to convince Maggie that I was feeling much better, but I sensed she knew I was lying. Part of me—a big part—wanted to tell her everything, but I held back. People would eventually forget my near-fainting spell, but if they knew about my history of seizures, I knew they’d hover, checking on me constantly.
I’d hoped I’d feel better today, but after having to practically drag myself out of bed this morning, I’d searched online for the local neurologists.
Just in case.
Beyond my exhaustion and lack of appetite, there were other symptoms that I’d been ignoring all week. Slight dizziness. An upset stomach. Pins-and-needles feeling in my legs.
All were prodromal warning signs.
And as much as I wanted to believe they were caused by something else, I had to be prepared to face the fact that my break from seizures might have been only a temporary reprieve.
Emotions churned as I thought about going back to a life filled with fear, wondering when my brain might misfire. And when it did, what part of me would be changed afterward? Because something always was. Whether it was my hearing or sense of smell or a long-lasting headache, confusion, or fatigue, I rarely came out of a seizure the same person as when I went in.
Then I shook the thoughts free, not allowing them to take root. Even if the epilepsy had reemerged,Iwasn’t who I used to be. I didn’t have to be so scared. I didn’t need to hide in a safety zone. I didn’t need my mother to watch over me day in and day out. I just had to be careful. Cautious. Aware. Hyperaware. I could deal with the physical side effects. But not the fear. Not anymore. I refused to clip my newfound wings.
At least my room was finally ready at Dez’s, which wouldmake it easier to hide my health issues from Maggie, since I didn’t think I’d see her over there anytime soon. At least not while Dez was at home. She’d told me they had a big fight.
I glanced toward her office door, even though she wasn’t in there. Earlier, I’d heard her on the phone and knew it was Noah she’d been talking to. Her voice changed when she spoke with him, becoming round and full of love. I could tell by her side of the conversation that he had no idea about the fight between her and Dez. They talked about classes, a new restaurant off campus, a study abroad possibility.
Then, I’d heard her say, “What? Nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask? Sad?” She’d laughed, phony and brittle. “I’m fine, honey. Just fine.”
Lies, of course. But something he said must’ve touched a nerve. Because as soon as she hung up, she marched herself out of her office, told Rose and me she’d be back in a while, and walked out the front door, determination in each step she took.
She hadn’t come back yet, now an hour later. We were actually slightly relieved she left. She’d been out of sorts all morning, getting orders wrong and even burningherselfwith the steam wand.
Rose placed the cup of coffee on the counter in front of Titus. “That’ll be two dollars, please.”
He pulled three one-dollar bills from the front pocket of his wrinkle-free twill shorts. He handed two to Rose and put one in the tip jar. He then slid the box across the counter toward her.
