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I didn’t want to change my mind. My fingers tapped the old, worn wood of the bar stained with years of spills, chemicals, and body fluids. Everything from bar brawls to food fights had dumped debris onto the surface, and although it was cleaned daily, the wear wasn’t fully disguised. Deep gouges in several spots proved not everyone used their fists when things got rowdy.
Still, the bar had character like my favorite pair of old slippers—comfy, familiar, and a little too worn. The scent of lemon and whiskey hung like a heavy curtain in the air, as comforting as home would ever be to me now, especially after the years I’d struggled on my own. Funny how smells conjured the past and evoked poignant memories of moments too far gone ever to bring back.
“Just give me another shot,” I ordered, ignoring the brief flash of concern in her deep baby blues.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“Amelia,” I began as she sighed, pushing off the bar to refill my glass.
“I don’t want you to have a life full of regrets like me. There comes a time when you get too old to change the past. If you’d just—”
I cut her off, a bit flustered. “I need to do this.”
“But so far away, Henny?”
“The farther, the better,” I announced, trying not to dwell on all the shit of recent months. “It’s time I tried to strike out on my own, live a little of life instead of sitting here, consumed by grief and everything I can’t do to change it.”
“I understand,” she replied softly, “better than you know.”
“I don’t want to hurt anymore,” I whispered, hating that ache in my chest that never diminished.
“Oh, baby. C’mere.”
She rounded the bar, opening her arms as I slipped into her embrace, loving how she brought me in, closing out the problems of the world. Her hugs were magical. They had a way of healing hurts and restoring hope.
When I finally leaned back, she brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, giving my shoulder a brief squeeze.
“I hate the idea of you leaving, even if it’s only a short time.”
“I know.”
“Josie is going to be upset.”
Shit. “I’ll talk to her. She’ll understand.”
Amelia sighed. “We’ll both understand and still hate it.”
Now, I just felt guilty.
“Where will you go? What are you going to do for work?”
I already thought out the details. I could waitress or bartend since I had plenty of experience.
Amelia taught me everything I knew. “I’ll find something.”
“You sure you can’t stay?”
The pleading expression on her face pulled at my heartstrings. If I remembered my mother and she was still alive, I’d hope she would be as kind and concerned as Amelia. Few people cared about orphans or foster kids. I was only one of many. Without Amelia’s intervention, I would never have made it this far.
Nearly fifteen years.
I owed her my life. She saved me from the streets after my last family tried to turn me out, charging men to come in and touch me, auctioning off my virginity at twelve to the highest bidder. If they found out the truth, I would have been beaten for risking their plan.
Late one night, I ran. The streets weren’t a safe place for a young girl. I was lucky that I wasn’t assaulted before Amelia found me one night a few weeks later, digging around in her dumpster behind the bar for something to eat.
“How will I ever learn to make it on my own?”
She hung her head, nodding. “You’re right. You need to do this.” She lifted her chin, giving me that bright, crooked smile that warmed my heart.
