Until Next Time

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Until Next Time Page 2

by Claudia Burgoa


  I regret the day I thought it’d be wise to teach my child how to read. I should’ve waited until she started kindergarten. For some, having a four-year-old who can read is impressive. For me, it is scary. It’s safer to leave a bottle of bleach near Matilda than a book with mature content. Not that I leave either one of them close to her. I’m not stupid.

  The lady in front of us turns around and gives me a judging glare, then she looks at Matilda and gently says, “Those are toys for grown-ups.”

  My innocent child grins and says, “Like the grown-up rabbit you have in your nightstand, Mommy?”

  Kill me now.

  This would be the perfect time for the ground to open up and swallow me. I wouldn’t mind disappearing for a hundred years.

  Judgy McJudgy gives us a disapproving glare. That’s it. The next stop is Child Protective Services. I’m going to have to explain to God knows who that I’m lucky to have this girl but unlucky that she’s too chatty. She doesn’t know what a dick is. It could be a Richard who is called Dick and is a dick, or a fucking cock. Either way, she knows the word and not the concept. Adult toys are just toys that only adults use. It’s not like she knows what they are or how they’re used.

  The story about my vibrator is pretty simple. Miranda, my best friend, came to visit us a couple of weeks ago. It was more like an intervention. She insists it’s time for me to start dating.

  Miranda said, “I bet you have spiderwebs down there.”

  My answer was casual and funny at the time. “I keep everything clean and well attended. I’d rather spend my night with my rabbit than go out. A little charge goes a long way.”

  I forgot Matilda was around. She has the sight of a hawk and the hearing of a tiger. My kid wanted to pet my rabbit. If facepalming were an exercise, I’d be skinny. Needless to say, I had to explain to my daughter about this adult toy.

  Adult toys have to stay hidden and no one should touch them.

  It’s not like I showed it to her and taught her how to use it.

  The snooty lady in front of me studies us and scrunches her nose. “Some people shouldn’t be parents.”

  Well, that wasn’t as bad as I expected. I squat and say, “Listen, Matilda, how about if we play the silent game. The first one to talk before we get to the car loses.”

  “You have to order our drinks.”

  “That’s the exception.”

  “I want to be the exception.”

  “Fine, you order. I want a cold matcha green tea with one pump of lavender syrup, large—”

  “No.” She crosses her arms. “That’s too long.”

  “Then I’m the exception.”

  She lifts her chin, indignant, and looks the other way. Matilda is four going on thirty-five. At times, I feel like I’m dealing with my mother and not my kid. This is what happens when instead of sending her to daycare, I send her to Mom’s house. It saves me money but not headaches. If I ever have more children, I’m keeping them away from Mom until they turn eighteen.

  Three hours later, I drop-off my child at my mother’s. I know, I know. She’s going to spoil her and feed that sassy side that’s going to be the death of me. However, who is better equipped to love my child than her grandmother?

  My first stop is at Range Communications & Consulting, where my brother works in the human resources department.

  “This is an unexpected visit,” he says as I enter his office.

  “You’re not going to believe what happened to me when I was at the coffee shop,” I say as I set my messenger bag on the leather couch and pull out my laptop.

  “Where’s mini-you?”

  “She’s at Moms. I have a class in an hour.”

  He arches an eyebrow. “Why are you here?”

  I grin. “I need a printer.”

  He shakes his head. “You should invest in one.”

  “I should, but it comes down to paying my rent or buying gadgets you already own.” I shrug.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t own them. My employers here at RCC own them. If you need financial help…”

  I shake my head. “I just need you to lend me your printer.”

  “Maybe if you—”

  Before he starts another lecture, I interrupt him, “I’m going to stop you right there, Aiden. I appreciate that you worry about me, but you don’t need to plan my life. Instead of micromanaging me, let me tell you what happened at the coffee shop.”

  After I’m done with my story, he’s laughing. “Your kid is hysterical.”

  “She’s going to be the death of me. It’ll be in the newspaper. Seattle woman, Autumn Wickerton, died of embarrassment. Her child is being investigated—Was it a homicide, or does the kid have special powers?”

  He can’t stop laughing. Once he sobers up, he gives me a severe look. “Listen, I know you plan on dedicating your life to Matilda, but you need to have a life too. It’s been—”

  “Stop!” I warn him.

  “Paxton died four years ago.” Aiden’s words are like an arrow directed to my heart.

  He doesn’t need to remind me how long it’s been since Pax left me. I’ve spent four years remembering his last words, replaying the moment he took his last breath, and knowing that he’ll never be back. Matilda only had a few moments with him before he left us. I hope the dismay I feel doesn’t show on my face.

  I try to sound normal when I ask, “Can I use your printer?”

  He narrows his brown eyes at me. “Deflecting.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “No. I’m avoiding this conversation. I know when he died. I was there. I’m trying my best to be a good mother and a father to Matilda. It’s easy for everyone to say things like ‘get on with your life,’ ‘start living,’ and ‘date.’ I’m living. Life isn’t about having someone to go to bed with. It’s about enjoying every second of the day and making the best out of every situation. Even the most embarrassing ones.”

  My voice rises. I don’t mean to yell, but I’m done with these interventions. “I’m sick and tired of listening to everyone’s advice. Everyone is different. Right now, I need the support of my family to raise my daughter and not unsolicited advice.” I take a deep breath and try to speak in a normal tone. “Do you think you can do that?”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose and nods.

  I grin and show him my laptop. “Well, let’s start the helping Autumn campaign by telling me where I can connect this so I can print. My class starts in less than an hour.”

  “You’re impossible,” he says with a grumpy voice.

  Aiden is the one who needs to get laid. Lucky for him, I have the solution. “You know what you should do?”

  He arches both eyebrows. “Yeah?”

  “You should make a move on Miranda before she finds a better man.” Aiden and Miranda have this undeniable attraction for each other that they ignore. I think they’re a perfect match, and if I don’t give them a big push, they’re going to end up alone or, worse, dating the wrong person.

  “Now who’s giving unsolicited advice?”

  “It’s your first warning. The next time I might say Miranda is getting engaged, getting married, or…” I shrug one shoulder.

  He sits up straight. “Is she dating?”

  I grin. “Maybe…but you don’t care, right?”

  He glares at me. Aiden is so predictable. If I play my cards right, those two will be dating before the end of the year. They’ll be so busy with each other they won’t have time to think about my love life.

  I could use a break from them. In the grand scheme of things, my happiness isn’t important when I have to think about Matilda. She’s who keeps me going.

  Chapter Two

  Zach

  “Did you know Callie was related to Persy Brassard?” Teddy, my annoying little sister, asks as she enters the café.

  All the customers turn to look at me. I’m thankful she’s here at two in the afternoon when I only have a few patrons. If it were seven in the morning, I’d be
wringing her neck for creating chaos during rush hour.

  “What are you doing here, squirt?”

  “It seemed like a good day to visit you,” she answers.

  “From Chicago?”

  “Actually, I was in Silver Lake when it occurred to me that I should visit you.”

  I’m racking my brain trying to figure out why she was in Silver Lake.

  “Why were you at home?”

  “I was with Mom. She filed for divorce.”

  I stare at Teddy. I don’t know if I want to discuss Persy Brassard, the sexologist and influencer, being my sister-in-law, or continue with my mother’s news.

  This is Mom’s third marriage. My parents were unhappily married for twenty-five years. The day after Teddy graduated from high school, they went their separate ways. It was a messy affair that left us scarred. My brothers were supportive of my marriage. They just couldn’t understand why I’d want to marry after living with Donovan and Florence St. James.

  “So,” she says.

  “So?”

  “Persy Brassard,” she repeats. “She’s your sister-in-law?”

  “You met her during the funeral. Do you want me to ask for an autograph?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I’m pretty sure that I met Persephone Chadwick. Weren’t they the Chadwicks?”

  “That’s her married name,” I say.

  “Her other sister’s last name was Chadwick too.”

  I roll my eyes. “Does it matter?”

  “Well, it just occurred to me that I never knew Callie’s last name,” she says, frustrated.

  I’m sure there’s more to her frustration. Teddy was supportive of my marriage because she loves me, but she couldn’t understand why I married someone without knowing her well. She wasn’t Callie’s biggest fan.

  I smack my head with the palm of my hand. Can we leave the dead to rest? Seriously, just leave my late wife and me alone. Will she back off if I ask her? Doubtful.

  I hate when Teddy takes me off guard.

  “Why are we having this conversation?”

  “Mom and I were at a coffee shop.” She presses her lips together and looks around the café. “You should buy the place and make it a Café Fusion.”

  “Are you here to talk about business, Teddy?”

  She waves a hand. “Sorry, I get sidetracked sometimes.”

  I arch an eyebrow. Sometimes? Try always. It’s part of her charm. She forgets everything, even the conversation she’s having. We’re all thankful that she doesn’t call us from Patagonia asking us to pick her up because she boarded the wrong plane.

  “As I was saying, Persy’s show was playing. She announced that her sister, Callie, had died. I assumed she’s your Callie. There was this lingering silence, and then she went on with her show. Seriously, I’m not sure how she went from ‘this is a sad day’ to advising a couple on having sex in a small closet. Her husband gave a few pointers too.”

  I frown, confused. That’s a lot of information to assimilate. Is it bad I wish she had gotten lost on her way from Seattle to Boston? I wouldn’t be dizzy from this conversation. Teddy is always talking a mile a minute, and she never makes sense.

  “Yep, I know what you’re thinking. Is it really possible that the guy who wasn’t talking to anyone at the funeral can give sex advice on a podcast? He can, and he’s funny,” she says.

  I blink a couple of times. I met Ford Chadwick. According to Burke, Ford is an IT genius. He invented an internet browser when he was a teenager and sold it for a lot of money to a big company. Burke, whose first language is computers, knows more about the Chadwick brothers, their lives, and their financial worth. It was strange to learn about them through my brother and not my late wife.

  Once I process Teddy’s nonsense, I say, “Wait, he gave sex tips during the podcast?”

  “Uh-huh.” She grins. “And there was a child at the coffee shop. The mom wanted to die because the show is pretty sexplanatory. Then, the kid asks her mom if she could get her a hitcher. That’s a new sex toy. The best part is when she let the entire coffee shop know that her mom has a rabbit hidden in her room.”

  My sister’s laughter is so contagious, I join her. It sounds like the kid is just like Teddy when she was a child. She and Archer were a hoot.

  “We should listen to that episode. I learned a lot about Callie.”

  I try to change the subject by asking, “So you came to visit me because…?”

  “You never told us Callie had a famous sister.”

  Clearly, I asked the wrong question. I don’t want to discuss Callie with my sister—or anyone. I spent a few weeks with her brother, Eros. He didn’t make it to the funeral, but he came to visit her grave. I’m guessing to find some closure. I doubt either one of us got it from the visit.

  “Well, I did some cyberstalking. There are pictures of Persy and her family on social media. Callie appears in some of them. She used to go on vacations with her sisters every year.”

  “I still don’t get why you’re here.” I glare at her suspiciously.

  “Learning more about her made me think of you. I want to make sure you’re okay. If I lost the person I love to a tragic accident, I’d be devastated.”

  Rubbing the left side of my chest, I wonder what to say. Am I okay? No. There’s a lot I need to work through. I’m not ready to discuss Callie, our life together, or the accident.

  “You need to talk to someone.”

  I’ve been talking with her brother, Eros, but I don’t tell her that. I guess having a conversation with him is not the same thing as hiring a therapist. I’m helping him get closure or at least telling him who Callie was after she ran away from Colorado. It’s easier to give him some details about our wedding or the things she told me about her family. I’m getting to know her family. The family she didn’t want me to meet because she hated them.

  I repeat the same thing that Eros told me last night, “It’s going to take some time to work through my emotions and come to terms with her loss.”

  Teddy gives me a pitying look. “Well, if you need me, I’m here. I know you said you didn’t want to go through her belongings yet, but if you change your mind…”

  I don’t tell her I hired a company that organizes houses and asked them to pack Callie’s belongings. They’re coming next month. If I’m not ready in that timeframe, I can reschedule them for later.

  “Thank you. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

  “Why do I have the feeling you won’t be calling me?”

  I shrug. “Do you want to help me?”

  She smiles and nods. I love my brothers, but I adore my little sister the most. She’s giving, and she always mothers us even when she’s the youngest of the St. James family.

  “What can I do?”

  “Let’s play coffee house.”

  “I didn’t come to prepare coffee.”

  “You prepare the best coffee in the world.”

  Liar, she mouths, rolling her eyes. “Fine, put me to work.”

  “How long are you staying?”

  “For as long as you need me.”

  I hate that sentence. I don’t like needing people. My passion is serving others, helping everyone. Maybe that’s exactly what I’ll do with the rest of my life.

  Chapter Three

  Zach

  Teddy’s visit changes something between my siblings and me. After that visit, they started to visit me often. I’m pretty sure they take turns so I don’t have time to wallow around the house. I don’t plan to park my ass on the couch, but I welcome their company. My days are hectic. During the morning and afternoon, I work at the coffee shop. Callie never understood why I didn’t just hire people to work for me.

  She didn’t figure out that I enjoyed waking up early and helping the bakers with whatever they needed while preparing the daily bread and pastries. I pride myself on serving artisan food to my customers. Many places in Latin America and Europe create everything fresh and with care. That’s exactly wha
t Café Fusion is all about. When the customers enter my coffee shop, they feel like they’re visiting family or a friend. They’re at home.

  We try to greet the frequent patrons by name. That’s probably why my shop is busy seven days a week. Even people from out of town want to grab a bite and enjoy the atmosphere. When my cousin Byron and his friends decided to open a coffee bar in Luna Harbor, they asked me for help. Their concept is different. They have a coffee shop that serves food all day and becomes a bar after seven. It’s also a music venue.

  When I visit them to see how the place is doing, I decide to open a branch of my shop in the northwest. I listen to Teddy and buy the coffee shop in Silver Lake, Washington, Mom’s hometown. I remodel it, making it the second branch of Café Fusion. Since it’s a success, I set up a plan to expand Café Fusion around the country. Eros Brassard and I become friends and business partners. He sells me sustainable coffee from Costa Rica, Brazil, and Colombia. He offers to invest in my new branches. I don’t need the money, but I realize that I do need a partner.

  I avoid thinking about whether Callie would approve of the changes in my life because I know the answer. She’d hate to learn that I’m close to her family or that I’m spending our anniversary serving and distributing meals around Boston. I rent a restaurant, hire a chef, and open to serve those who are low-income, homeless, or anyone who needs a warm meal.

  Initially, I plan on operating only during the last two months of the year. Teddy offers to partner with me. She loves to cook and has some waitressing experience. When my brothers find out about it, they contribute to the cause. Eros donates sustainable food from his farm. Before I realize it, I’m running a restaurant, and it’s a success. I never thought that fighting hunger and giving a meal or three a day to families who can’t afford it would be rewarding.

  We determine that it’ll be best if we keep the restaurant running all year long. Hunger doesn’t disappear after the holidays or winter.

 

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