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I nodded. “Yes, that’s him.”
There. That sounded cool and professional.
The first week I’d transferred money, my entire body had tightened when the bank teller said Deacon’s name. After, I’d run to the car and held on to the steering wheel for dear life while I struggled for breath.
Now, I still felt the twinge of regret and pain at Deacon’s name, but I wasn’t falling apart anymore.
There was light at the end of the tunnel.
I accepted my receipt and left, swinging my purse on my shoulder.
On the way to the exit, I saw a familiar face lumbering into the bank. I swerved and headed in the opposite direction, but it was too late.
Humphries’ eyes widened when he saw me. He fast-walked around the sofa in the foyer and stopped me with a hand to my arm. “Angel, hey.”
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you were still on the island.” His bushy eyebrows slithered high. “Did you get fired? Or…?”
I knew he was being nosy so I decided to be vague. “I had a great time on the island, but I was bound to leave eventually. School’s starting next month and I need to prepare.”
“I guess so.” He nodded. “How’s your dad? Paulina told me he was getting chemo.”
“Dad’s great. We talk everyday. He’s coming back to Belize tomorrow.”
“Did the radiation treatment…?”
“Yeah, so far we’re optimistic. We’re waiting a couple weeks to make sure they got all the cancer cells.” It was the only good news I’d heard in a long time and I was clinging to it like a shipwrecked sailor to a life raft.
“That’s great.”
“Yeah.” It turned awkward so I stepped back. “Well, it was nice seeing you.”
“What about that guy?” Humphries asked.
I froze.
He stared at me. “Did you two break up?”
“We were never together. It’s… complicated.”
“He showed his true colors, didn’t he? What? Is he a perv? Cheater? Abuser? I told you something was wrong with that man. I told you you’d get hurt. Did he—?”
“I should go, Humphries.”
His jowls trembled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
“It’s okay.” I forced a smile. “See you.”
He waved.
I jogged to the car and sat in the heat for five minutes without moving. Fisting my fingers, I stabbed my chest. There was, what I now called, a Deacon-sized ache in there. It was like heartburn but worse. Much worse.
Forcing myself to move, I drove to work and tried to lose myself in the kids at the center and in the demanding pace of the diner.
When I got home, I called Mom to discuss the details of her flight to Belize. She sounded tired but happy and I really couldn’t wait to see them tomorrow.
“I love you, Mom,” I said. “Tell Dad I’ll see him tomorrow.”
