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Then the doorbell rings, pulling me from my daze, and I walk to the front of our cozy home. As I open it, my mother-in-law gazes back at me and then pulls me into a big hug. “How are you doing, Faye?” she asks me, obviously concerned.
“I’m okay. What are you doing here, Jan?” I direct her inside, and she follows me in, looking at me intently, studying me like she always does. “You have a therapy session today, remember?” I do, and I totally forgot about it. Even the word “therapy” bothers me, so you can imagine how I feel about having to actually go and talk about my feelings, which never seems to help.
No matter what I do, I’m still struggling just to get through each moment. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks again, and I nod. Braxley is in the next room, so I’m not about to let him know that I’m upset. Like usual, I quiet her worry and reassure her. “Everything is okay. Come and see your grandson. He’s just eating.”
As we walk into the kitchen, she rushes to his side, but her excitement changes to alarm when his red marinara-stained face smiles at us. “Grandma!” he exclaims excitedly.
“What in the world are you eating?”
“Mommy made me lasagna.”
“What a strange thing to eat for breakfast.” She gives me a disapproving glare.
“It’s what he wanted, and he is a growing boy, aren’t ya, baby?” He nods as I rub the top of his soft messy hair. “I’m gonna go get dressed,” I tell them and head upstairs, needing a moment away from her. Her intentions are good, and she really doesn’t mean any harm, but with Jan, it’s her way or—no way.
Walking into the closet, I keep my eyes on my side and off of Ben’s. I hate looking at all of his clothing. Quickly, I grab a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. After I dress and pull my hair up, I brush my teeth then go back downstairs where I find Jan making Baxley a full course breakfast. The bacon is already sizzling, and I ask her, annoyed because I already fed him, “What are you doing?”
“Faye, lasagna is nothing to feed a little boy.”
I kiss Braxley on the top of his head and ignore her comment. I just want to make him happy, and if that means lasagna for breakfast, then so be it. He’ll be okay. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” I tell them and give him a big hug.
“Bye, Mommy.”
“You be good for grandma, okay?” he nods, and I kiss Jan on the cheek walking out. “Bye, Faye.”
I pull my coat on, and the cold air hits me hard. It’s a chilly morning in Seattle, and I’m so looking forward to warmer weather. I check the time. My appointment is at nine, and as much as I don’t want to go, I have to. I promised Ben I would talk about things after he was gone and take care of myself. So I should be right on time. As I drive, I reach for my coffee and realize that I forgot it at the house.
Instead of going back home, I stop at the local Starbucks. The drive-through line is wrapped around the building as always. Everyone in Seattle needs their fix on this chilly morning, so I head inside, and the noise immediately rings in my ears. It’s loud with all the employees yelling orders over the screaming of milk frothing and groups of people chatting.
Looking up at the menu like I’m trying to decide what to get, I chuckle to myself and know Ben would laugh too. He always used to tease me and say, “Why do you even look? You know what you’re going to order.” I always get the same thing…and then Ben’s Chai Tea Latte stares back at me from the menu. God, I miss him. I can remember coming here so many times together, and the sudden reminder is a hard blow deep inside my gut. All the air is stripped from my lungs, and I struggle to stand. It’s not like I’d forgotten he was gone, but lately, there have been brief periods of time that pass where the pain lessens until I’m reminded again, and it’s just as strong, the way it was a year ago.
“Hi, welcome to Starbucks,” a young barista says, “What can I get you?”
“Uh…I’ll have a grande coffee.”
“Any room for cream?”
“Yes, please.”
“Anything else?”
“No, that’s all.”
“That’ll be two dollars and seventy-three cents.” The baristas pour my coffee, and I reach for my purse, but somehow don’t have it. Searching all of my coat pockets for any form of payment as the employee stares, I’m so embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I forgot my wallet.”
Then out of the blue, a guy ordering at the register next to me, says, “I can pay for hers.”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” I tell him.
“It’s a few bucks, not a big deal.”
“Are you sure? I…I can pay you back.”
“No, pay it forward, buy someone else a cup of coffee another time.”
The barista tells the other worker to add my coffee under his order, and then I take my cup, feeling guilty for letting a complete stranger pay for me. I’ve been such an airhead since Ben’s been gone. Plus, people don’t do nice things for each other anymore—they just don’t, as sad as it is. The guy pays, and I wait for him to finish, feeling like I have to thank him once again. He takes his receipt and then looks down at me, his greenish-brown eyes glimmering in the low lights of the coffee shop as we walk to the end of the line together. “Thank you again,” I tell him. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
“Sure I did. If I didn’t, then you wouldn’t have a coffee. And that would be a shame.” He smiles, and I study his face, feeling like I’ve seen him before. There is something about him that is so familiar. I pop the top on my coffee adding cream and sugar, and the worker calls out, “Chai tea latte for Thane?” I glance over to see him take the drink into his hand. He winks at me, waiting for me to finish, and I place the lid back on my cup, looking away quickly. What are the odds that he’d order just what Ben would’ve?
“Thanks again, Thane,” I say, having heard his name from the barista.
“Of course. By the way, what’s your name?”
“Faye.” We shake hands, and he holds my hand for longer than any stranger ever has or probably should.
“That’s a beautiful name.” I smile, and he opens the door as we walk out together, neither saying anything else. But between us, there is a pull, a connection of sorts, and I have no clue why. It’s like Thane has awoken something inside of me that has been asleep for a long time now, and it scares me. I spend every waking moment grieving for Ben. I shouldn’t be feeling this way—it feels like a betrayal—but I can’t stop it.
