Old Habits

by Tabatha Kiss

  Yeah, it’s kind of like that.

  Except I’m not asleep and I’ve checked three times already to make sure I put on pants before I left Hank’s house.

  No, they’re just staring at me because that’s what people do when your name is Jovie Ross.

  It starts on my street with Mrs. Clark, the pastor’s wife. Her dog barks at me from the porch as I walk by her house. She steps outside, takes one look at me, and bolts right back in, dragging her dog by the collar as she goes.

  I should see this for the omen it is but I keep on walking like an idiot, quickly happening by several other neighbors who more or less do the exact same thing. Some just stare. Slightly fewer wave. One literally clutches the pearls around her neck.

  It’s nice to be remembered, I suppose.

  I hit the town square and walk down Main Street until I reach Trin’s Toy Store on the corner, sandwiched between the bookstore and a coffee shop that wasn’t there when I left. There’s a ‘HELP WANTED’ sign displayed in the window. My lips curl at the small victory. At least I know he’s hiring.

  But is he willing to hire me again?

  Only one way to find out.

  I pull open the door and the entry bell rings above my head.

  “Welcome!” I hear from the check-out counter to the right.

  I catch sight of Mr. Trin himself standing behind it. He doesn’t look up from the small stack of paperwork in front of him, displaying his shiny, bald head to the world.

  I snatch the ‘HELP WANTED’ sign from the window and walk straight toward him, taking wide, purposeful strides until I can lay the sign down in his eye-line.

  He peeks up at me over the rims of his glasses and his brow furrows.

  “Absolutely not,” he says.

  “Hi, Mr. Trin.” I deepen my smile. “It’s good to see you!”

  “No.”

  “I would like to talk to you about a jo—”

  “No.”

  I tilt my head. “Please?”

  “The position is for serious applicants only, Jovie.”

  “I am a serious applicant, Mr. Trin.”

  “Serious applicants include those with perfect work histories,” he argues. “Not girls who stop showing up without notice.”

  “I know,” I say, leaning forward. “I was going through something at the time — and I’m really sorry — but that’s all over now…”

  “You left me in a lurch.”

  I hold my hands in prayer between us. “I did and I felt really badly about that.”

  “It took forever to find a decent smock girl again,” he continues. “Then, she left to go have some schmuck’s babies in Topeka.”

  “Well,” I feign a laugh, “I can assure you that I won’t be doing that anytime soon. Or ever. Most likely never. I don’t even know anyone from Topeka.”

  “I’m from Topeka.”

  I inhale a sharp breath and let out an awkward chuckle. “Okay, I don’t think Mrs. Trin would like me cracking a joke about having your babies, so I’m just gonna let that one slide…”

  His head shakes. “I’m sorry, Jovie, but I already have interviews scheduled for today.”

  “Cancel them.” He glares at me as he steps around the counter with his papers in hand. “I worked here for over three years. You barely have to even train me. Think of the time save, Mr. Trin. I know how much you value time save.”

  He wanders across the shop toward the office in the back. “The other girls have good resumes,” he says, raising the papers above his head.

  I follow one step behind him. “Yeah? Well, will the other girls arrange the dinosaur figures alphabetically by species?”

  “No, they’ll arrange them by size and color the way they’re supposed to.”

  “Oh...” I pass with him through the doorway. “That’s not very educational.”

  “Hey, hey—” He points over my shoulder at the ‘Employees Only’ sign glued to the door.

  I step back but stay in the frame. “You know, I hung this sign,” I say, rapping my knuckle against it.

  “I know.” Trin collapses into his desk chair. “It fell off twice.”

  “Come on, Mr. Trin.” I sigh. “I’m falling on my sword here.”

  He wavers, flexing his jawline and squinting at me. “I don’t know—”

  “Please,” I beg. “You can start me at minimum wage. I don’t care. My availability is wide open. Days, weekends, holidays. You name it, I’ll be here. I can start today — right now, if you need it. Just… please.”

  Trin rubs his shiny head. “Fine,” he spits. “Seven twenty-five an hour. Ten to close every day with an hour lunch.”

  I raise a brow. “Seven twenty-five? Is that really what minimum wage is now?”

  He glares. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, sir,” I say quickly. “Not at all.”

  “We can talk about raising that if you last six months,” he adds.

  I fill my lungs with relief. “Thank you. That’s perfect. Really. Thank you.”

  He points over my shoulder. “Grab a smock from the back. I assume you remember where they are?”

  “I do.” I spin in a half circle but double back slowly. “So, now that I’m hired… can we discuss a possible fifty dollar advance on my first paycheck?”

  His stern face twitches.

  I surrender my hands and back out of the office. “You’re right. Never mind. No problem. Sorry I asked.”

  “Jovie…”

  I poke my head back in. “Yeah, boss?”

  Trin stands up and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. “You can start tomorrow morning,” he says, fishing it open. “I want you here at ten sharp. There are a few things that have changed since you left so we’ll need to go over those.”

  I nod, trying not to stare at his hands. “I’ll be here.”

  He grabs a folder off the desk, paper-clips a fifty dollar bill to the W-2 form inside, and offers it to me. “Fill these out before you come in.”

  I take it from him, once again feeling warm relief fill my chest. “Thank you, Mr. Trin,” I say.

  He pats my shoulder as he passes back onto the shop floor. “Welcome home, kid.”

  My smile deepens. I’d forgotten that he used to call me that. It’s strange how it all comes back. Not just the physical details of a life once lived but the emotions that came with it. I really do feel like shit for leaving Mr. Trin in a bind the way I did. He was one of two people in this town who pretended to give a crap about me, after all.

  The second person? Well…

  That story is much longer.

  And it hurts twice as much.

  Chapter 3

  Will

  “You’re all set, Mrs. Clark,” I say, setting her keys on the counter between us.

  She grabs them with an old, wrinkled hand and grins at me. “Thank you, William. Have I mentioned that you’re my favorite grease monkey?”

  “Only every time you come in here.”

  “Oh, good! Because you are.”

  I smile. “Thank you. Remember what I told you about riding your brakes, all right?”

  She leans in. “Remind me again...”

  “Don’t.”

  “Oh, that’s right! I’ll try and remember that, dear.” She turns to leave but pauses with her hand on the counter. “William, you’re still single, right?”

  “Uhh... yes,” I answer slowly.

  Her eyes twinkle. “Have you met my granddaughter, Lillian? I think you’d like her...”

  I shake my head but try to maintain my polite smile. “I’m sure I would, Mrs. Clark, but I’m not really looking to date anyone right now...”

  “Well, you let me know the second that changes. I’ll set you up!”

  “Okay.” I chuckle awkwardly. “Have a nice day!”

  She pushes the door open and slowly walks out, taking her time while my smile tests my face muscles.

  Once she’s gone, I let it fall. “Okay, what is going on here?”


  Tucker glances up from his paperwork at the other end of the counter. “What do you mean?”

  “That is the third woman today to say something like that to me.”

  “You’re complaining?”

  “I’m concerned.”

  “Why?” he asks. “You’re a handsome, eligible bachelor with pretty eyes and a tight tushie. Take the compliment.”

  I stare at him until he finally looks up. “Make that four women.”

  “Ha, ha, ha,” he mutters. “You’re probably just imagining it.”

  “Maybe.”

  The entry bell rings and I smile at the one woman in town who will never hit on me. “Hey, Sara.”

  My sister walks over and lays her keys on the counter. “It’s doing that thing again.”

  “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  “I don’t know...” She sighs. “It’s making that rattling sound between the back tires and I just don’t have time to deal with this kind of crap right now.”

  I sense her frustration. “All right, we’ll check it out. Everything else okay?”

  Her eyes flick toward Tucker and she lowers her voice. “Yeah, just stressed out a little.”

  “Charlie’s coming home soon, though, right?”

  “No, they extended his deployment. Again.”

  “Really?”

  She pushes her short, brown hair back from her face. “Yeah.”

  “Wow. I’m sorry, Sara.”

  “It’s okay...” She flicks her car keys. “It’s just he usually dealt with this stuff and I feel completely over my head right now.”

  “It’s okay.” I lay my hand over hers. “I’ll handle this. We’re a bit backed up today, so it might take a while.”

  “That’s fine. I have some shopping to do for Andy’s birthday this weekend and an eye appointment that I’ve rescheduled twice already, so just call when you figure it out, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “Oh— you’re still available to take him Saturday morning before the party, right?”

  I nod. “Of course. Drop him off whenever and let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help out.”

  She throws on a smile. “Actually, Will, now that you mention it, what are you doing after the party?”

  “No plans. Why?”

  “You remember my friend, Cindy Sumner, right?”

  I pause. “No.”

  “Oh, come on. Yes, you do. We went to high school with her. She was a year behind me — a year ahead of you. Blonde hair. Gorgeous eyes.”

  I squint. “I remember a Bryan Sumner.”

  “Yes!” She points. “Cindy is his sister.”

  Tucker laughs. “Didn’t you beat the shit out of him junior year?”

  Sara rolls her eyes. “No, he didn’t.”

  “Oh, yes, I did,” I confirm.

  Her mouth sags. “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was a dick.”

  “Anyway…” She clears her throat. “Cindy’s been asking about you and I thought that maybe you could get together for coffee or something after the party…”

  “No, thanks,” I say, grabbing her keys off the counter.

  “Why not?” she pouts.

  “I’m not interested.”

  “But—”

  I jingle her keys. “I’ll call you when we figure out the rattling noise, okay, Sara?”

  She exhales, giving up. “Okay, fine. I’ll ask you again later.”

  “I won’t be interested later, either…”

  “You might be!”

  “Nope. Bye, Sara.”

  “Bye!”

  I wait until she steps outside. “Okay, you saw that, right?” I twist toward Tucker. “Tell me you saw that.”

  “I saw that,” he says, nodding slowly. “Since when does she try and set you up with her friends?”

  “Exactly...”

  He snaps his fingers. “You know what it is?”

  “What?” I ask. “Please, dear God, tell me what the hell this is.”

  “It’s almost February.”

  “So?”

  “So… Valentine’s Day.” He points outside. “The party committee just started putting up pink hearts and red ribbons all over the place out there.”

  I glance out the windows and notice the ribbons attached to the parking meters on the street surrounding the town square.

  “You think that’s it?” I ask, frowning.

  “Yeah.” He nods. “Looks to me like the single ladies are trying to lock you down for the annual dance.”

  I think it over. “Maybe...” I turn toward the garage and Tucker blocks my way.

  “Whoa, where you going?” he asks.

  I hold up Sara’s keys. “I’m bringing her car around.”

  He snatches them from me. “I’ll do that. You’re on desk duty. Just sit down and bask in this glorious attention you’re receiving.”

  I stare into his twitching eyes. “Tucker, what’s really going on?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He spins around and bolts through the door into the garage.

  The entrance chimes and Coach Rogers walks up to the counter. “Hello, William!” he says.

  I reluctantly head back to the counter. “Hey, Coach.”

  “The wife says the van’s ready.”

  “It is.” I nod, turning to snatch his keys off the rack on the wall.

  His eyes narrow as I set them down. “You’re looking a bit on the downside lately. Something troubling you?”

  I pause. The last thing I’m in the mood for right now is Coach Rogers’ weird person questions. “I’m fine.” I find his invoice in a stack nearby. “Looks like it’s seventy-five even today.”

  He scratches his bearded face instead of whipping out his wallet. “William, if I may offer a little unsolicited advice…”

  “Actually, Coach, we’re a little backed up here…”

  “I’ll make it quick. I look at you and I’m reminded of a quote by the great Albert Einstein.”

  Ah, jeez.

  “Life is like riding a bicycle,” he says. “To keep your balance, you must keep moving!”

  I nod. “That’s nice.”

  He reaches over the counter and pats my shoulder. “Keep moving forward, son. Don’t let the past hold you back. I foresee great things in your future.”

  “We can only hope. So, about your bill—”

  “A wife,” he adds. “A few kids. Who knows? Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and there are plenty of young women around Clover…”

  My eye twitches. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”

  I shove the garage door open, stepping down into the smell of rubber and the sound of shrieking power tools. Three cars sit in a line at various stages of repair but my eyes instantly fall on one in particular. It’s old and blue and…

  No. It can’t be.

  I walk across the garage, my mind flashing with memories with every step I take toward.

  Tucker juts out in front of me. “Whoa, hey! Will… what, uh… whatcha doing back here?”

  “Move,” I say, stepping around him.

  The closer I get, the more I’m sure.

  Tucker stays on me. “I know what you’re thinking but it’s not,” he says.

  “Oh, yeah? Then, whose car is it?”

  He stutters. “It’s Julie’s car.”

  I raise a brow. “Julie’s?”

  “Yeah. Julie’s.”

  “Julie who?”

  “Julie, uh...” he twitches, “Moss.”

  “Julie Moss?” I repeat.

  “Yeah. Julie—”

  I grab Tucker by the collar. “You mean Jovie Ross?”

  “No, uh-uh. I didn’t say Jovie Ross.”

  “Tucker...” I pull him closer. “Is Jovie back?”

  “No— Jovie?” He snorts. “Hell, no. She hightailed it out of here years ago. She ain’t e
ver coming—”

  “Tucker.”

  He recoils. “Yeah. She’s back. Jovie’s back.”

  My guts twist. “How long has she been back?”

  “I dunno. A day or two...” I squint at him. “Okay, four. Four days. She’s staying with her dad.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “Really, truly. I don’t know. All I know is that she’s back, she’s at Uncle Hank’s, she got her old job back at the toy store, and that really is her car right there. We had to special order a part for it because it’s old as shit. But that’s it. That’s all I know.”

  I relax my grip. He slips free and takes a wide step back out of my reach.

  Holy shit.

  Jovie Ross actually came home.

  I walk over to the car as another wave of cold memories threatens to knock me over. Jovie’s little, blue car. One of the back windows is cracked and held together with duct tape and the antenna is nearly bent off but this is it. I’d recognize that backseat anywhere.

  Tucker straightens his shirt and hovers over my shoulder. “But even if she is back… who cares, right?” he asks. “You’re over her... right?”

  I blink. “Yeah.”

  “See? No worries…” He pats my shoulder with caution. “Right?”

  “Yeah, no worries.” I shift a step backward. “I’m going to lunch.”

  “It’s ten-thirty in the morning. Will— ah, crap…”

  I leave the garage, ignoring his voice. Every instinct in me tells me to drop this but I can’t. My feet lead me through the town square, past the post office and the diner and coffee shop.

  All the way to Trin’s Toys.

  I halt in my tracks with my hand on the door. I stare through the glass, feeling my heart plummet from my chest to six feet under the damn earth.

  She really did come home.

  Jovie Ross stands behind the old cash register with her back toward me but there’s no way it can’t be her.

  Her dark brown hair hangs several inches beneath her shoulders, jutting off in thick, wavy strands. She never wore it so long before. Jovie was a pixie-cut kind of girl; the type who would cut it herself on a whim in her bathroom at 3 AM.

  A red smock is wrapped around her slim waist. Long, strong legs poke out the bottom to hold her up. Her neck twists to the side as Mr. Trin calls out to her from the storeroom and those cheekbones stick out a little more.