“Layla,” I answer.
“Mr. Quinn, I have spoken to Ms. Tinder. She wants to come and meet you to discuss the new venture and possible locations,” I sigh. Gabrielle Tinder is the best person to locate the real estate I require, but every time we have a meeting she practically throws herself at me.
“Layla, can you arrange for Ms. Tinder to have the details of where I’m staying. Advise her I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but if she wants to come to my location, then she’ll need to contact you when she’s arrived. Then we can set up a meeting. Oh, and Layla… can you organize to fly out here, too.”
“Sir?” Layla questions.
“Since arriving, I’ve realized I’m not sure how long my stay will be. You’re needed here with me, and if Ms. Tinder insists on coming then I may need you to play chaperone.” She giggles at my statement and my thumb moves clicking the phone off knowing Layla will get everything squared away. She’s the best assistant I’ve ever had, which is why I’ve held onto her for over five years. I know she’s had offers, people who’ve tried to steal her away from me. She’s always turned them down, though. I’m not sure why, but I’m thankful to her for staying loyal. I throw my suit jacket over the chair and loosen my tie. I want to have a shower and get my head straight. Tomorrow I’m going to face the first town I lived in, the first town I had friends, the first town I played football for a team, and the first and last town where I had my heart broken.
I get up from the bed and pull the curtains back looking out over the harbor, opening the doors, I step out onto the balcony and take a deep breath of ocean air. It reminds me of summers spent down at the beach. Leaning on the balcony railings, the melancholy creeps up my throat as I watch the boats bob up and down in the water. I loved high school, had lots of friends and was on the football team. Grades came easy to me, but because of my height, build, dark hair and looks, I was easily ushered into the popular crowd, even before I got picked for the team. It didn’t take me long to realize the rules of high school - the do’s and don’ts. It took me a couple of years to really understand that those rules were bullshit, and by that time I’d already lost the fight. The one girl I had really wanted only had eyes for my friend. I had my fair share of girlfriends and hookups, but they were all pretty meaningless, even if they didn’t realize it.
I moved away to go to college when I was eighteen. Mainly for my own sanity. Watching someone else’s happily ever after—with the person that your heart believes belongs to you—is like being slowly suffocated, and I didn’t want to live that life. Good job too, because after college ball I got drafted. But it only lasted a few years, though, then it was all over when I broke my ankle. Luckily I’d saved most of my money, so with that I opened my first restaurant. I was blessed because it was a success. Now, I have over thirty across the US and am hoping to expand into Europe within the next couple of years. I didn’t tell anyone back home that I kept tabs on the place. When I was drafted, I moved Mom, Pops, and my younger sister Molly out with me. But now they live in Florida, my parents deciding to retire there and my sister likes the almost constant sunshine. I never told them that I left my heart in our hometown, or that I’d invested there either. I’ve only visited the town once. Went to a realtor, and asked about houses to buy. There wasn’t anything that caught my eye, and I cursed my stupidity, not really understanding why I would punish myself by living in the town, watching her with him, knowing she would never be mine. I decided to leave and never look back and for good this time.
But as I was walking out of the realtor’s office, I spotted a property that caught my eye. Asking about it, the lady explained that it was about to go on the market. I bought it, then and there. I think the realtor nearly wet her panties when I gave her full market value. I took the keys and visited—just once. I realized that Bel hadn’t had time to take any of the photographs down from the walls, and it felt like I was intruding. Still, while I was there, I couldn’t help but stare at her, so vibrant, so beautiful. I locked the door after that and moved back to San Francisco.
Now, it’s time to do something I’ve put off for so long.
I have to let it go.
For good.
I look over the note for the fourth time. After going out for an early morning run, I needed to shake off the unease that had spread through my body when I woke. Being back here makes me feel like that young kid who never knew what he was throwing away. It makes me lose hold of the rigid control I apply to my life these days. Nearly an hour later, I was walking through the foyer when one of the receptionists called to me. She told me there was an urgent message for me from Layla—not especially unusual. She knows I run about this time in the morning and would be unreachable. The part that threw me slightly was that she wouldn’t normally leave a message with reception. She would text me on my cell. When I read the note, though, I understood why.
Mr. Quinn, I couldn’t reach you on your cell, please be prepared. Ms. Tinder is on her way. She found out where you were before I could call her, and upon speaking to her assistant, I’ve been informed that she’ll be arriving at your hotel within the next few hours.
Fuck my life.
Now I’ve showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and am reading the note once more like the words might suddenly change. This was supposed to be time for me to say goodbye, to process everything. I wasn’t meant to have company, and now I’ll have Gabrielle and Layla.
Shit, now the need to run again is like a beacon flashing in my brain.
I make my way out of the hotel entrance and get into my rental car. Driving out of the gates is a stark reminder that I’m leaving the safety and shelter surrounding me. But making my way up and down familiar roads, ones I haven’t traveled for many years, the feeling changes from unease to warmth. The familiarity, it seems, is not altogether unwelcome. I’d forgotten how much I loved this place as a child, especially being so close to the sea. I’d never had an unhappy childhood, so I’m not quite sure why I’ve been so reluctant to come back here, and why I would think visiting would evoke pain. Then I remember, it’s not pain I’m trying to avoid. It’s love.
“Thank you, Martha!” I smile taking the china cup filled with tea from Mrs. Wilson. It’s been years since she’s let me call her Mrs. Wilson, and she still reprimands me if it slips out. I enjoy my Sundays with these people. They took me under their wing when my momma and pop died. They never had children, so I think I fill that place in their hearts. Which is amazing, because I need them, much more than they need me.
“So has anything changed this week?” she asks me softly. I know what she’s really asking, and she knows what she’s really asking too, but the actual words are always left unsaid. It’s always unspoken, the ‘Keith’ that sits between us.
“Nothing interesting has happened this week, Martha,” I reply with a smile.
“Well, it’s about time something did,” Pastor Wilson says walking up behind me. Martha looks up at him with a beautiful smile. He lights up her world, and I know he feels the same way about her, it’s blindingly obvious. It’s almost magical. I just wish that kind of love existed for us all.
The phone rings and I startle. Martha chuckles, “It will be for you, Anabel.” As I get up to cross the room toward the phone, she grabs my hand and squeezes, so I stop to look down at her. “Dreams can become reality, Anabel. For some of us they just take a while longer to happen.” I smile back at her and my heart swells for how much I love this lady in front of me. Squeezing her back, I release her hand and take the phone from Pastor Wilson, who’s answered it.
“Mandie Moo,” I squeal down the line, bursting into a little jig. Pastor Wilson chuckles and wanders away as I sink into the armchair wearing a huge grin and feeling the ache, the one that’s always there in her place, subsiding.
“Bellie,” she squeaks back. “I’ve missed your voice,” she tells me, and just those four words brings all my carefully held in emotion to the surface.
“It’s only been a w
eek.” I laugh trying to beat back the pain in my stomach that I feel hearing the sadness in her words.
“Yeah, I know,” she answers. “I have some news.”
“Oh?” I reply.
“I’m coming home.”
“What? I mean… what?” I splutter the excitement escaping me. Amanda giggles on the other end of the line
“I wanted to come and visit you, show Pierre where I grew up and finally, you could meet each other. I’m just working my notice at my current job so I can come in a few weeks,” she tells me and I bounce up and down on my toes with glee.
“Oh! I can’t wait. All this time of keeping in touch on the phone, I’m finally gonna get to see you again and I’ll be able to hug you,” I say wrapping my free arm across my chest imagining it’s her I’m holding.
“I know,” she whispers and I know that she’s crying. She’s the crier out of the two of us. I can’t be a crier, if I were, by now I’d be drowning in a river of tears.
After speaking to Amanda and then having dinner at Pastor Wilson’s house, it was time to go home, but I wanted to visit the parlor today. I wanted to feel my history, rather than face my present. So I took the short walk to the old shop.
When I turn the last corner to enter the alleyway, I notice there’s a car parked outside the back entrance. “Shit,” I whisper to myself. Power walking as quickly as I can, without setting my butt cheeks on fire, I arrive at the back door and can see it’s ajar. Pulling it open slightly and peeking in, I can’t see anyone, but obviously, someone must be there. I’m about to take a step inside when I hear something crash and I jump backward.
I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t my place anymore.
I take another step back and feel my heart drop. It dawns on me that if someone is finally here to do something with the shop, then I can’t come here for peace anymore. Something else that I’ll just have to let go.
I sigh and close my eyes. I never knew coming back here would make me feel like a teenager again. The moment I opened the back door and walked inside, it was like my body recognized this place. What amazes me even more is that all the photos still hang on the wall. It’s eerie like the shop has been kept in its former state, but with nobody living it, no one keeping it vibrant and alive. I stand and take in each photo, giving everyone the time it deserves. I can’t help but feel a vise-like grip on my heart when I look at the photos of Bel. I wonder why she never took these photos with her. Grabbing one of her and her friend Amanda when they were about sixteen off the wall, I curse as I catch my finger on the nail. Spinning around, still cursing, I slam into the metal bin sending it toppling over. I stand still and look at the ceiling, then back to the frame in my hand.
Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something? Maybe I should just leave this photo? But If I’m going to sell this place, then I don’t want someone to come along and throw it in the trash. Just one photo, another one to remember her. That makes my total now three. All kept filed away. The memories, though, they assault me more often than I would like. I place the picture frame on the counter and grab the bin. Walking to the back door, I’m sure I hear footsteps. Swinging the door open I look out, up and down the alley, but no one’s there. Placing the bin outside the back door, I close my eyes and will myself to go back inside. To bare my heart again. I’ve come to realize that being in there opens up all the old wounds afresh. I enter and go straight to the serving counter at the front of house this time. I spy a radio and flick it on. It doesn’t come to life so I pick it up, turning it over, and realize there are no batteries. Of course, there wouldn’t be. I head out the back again, this time determined to do something useful, something to soothe me today.
Locking the door, I jump in the car and drive the three minutes toward what used to be Jim’s hardware store. Surprisingly, it’s still there. Not surprisingly, there’s nobody working there that I know. I grab the batteries and get in the car heading back to the shop. Stopping at a red light, I think about how this town hasn’t changed much. A fleck of light bouncing off something catches my eye, looking at it I see the back of a woman. She has a slender figure and blond hair. She glides as she walks, although by her movements it’s pretty obvious that she doesn’t realize this, as she’s almost trying to hide, attempting to make herself insignificant. She fiddles with her fingers in an endearing way, and when she reaches the end of the street she stops under a ray of light. She must feel the warmth from the sun as she holds her hands out to her sides and raises her chin toward it. In that moment, I just wish I could see the bliss that I know is probably on her face as the warm rays caress her. I wonder when we all stopped enjoying such basic things, something as amazing as the sun on our faces. Suddenly, I’m rudely honked at by the horn of the car behind me. “All right,” I mutter turning around to glare at the other driver who shrinks back into his seat. Heading back into the shop, this time I stride in going straight for the radio, placing the batteries in and wondering why I’m not just emptying the place and leaving. Switching it on and bringing life back into it, I get my reward when Nickelback - Far Away comes on the local station. I move to sit in my old booth which always faced the counter so I could watch her. Closing my eyes and listening to the words, I remember a time before my heart was ripped from my chest.
The loud beeping of the car horn jolts me out of my moment. I’ve learnt in this life, to try and take every small blessing that’s showered on you, however irrelevant you may think it is. I feel the warmth of the sun, it’s like someone is trying to tell me that everything will be okay. But I’ve been known for my unwavering hope before, and I’ve crashed and burned because of it. Even so, I can’t stop smiling, knowing that Amanda is coming home, coming back to me. I just don’t know why. It’s been ten years and as much as I love her, she’s never come home before. I’ve never had the money to visit her. I got a passport once. I thought I’d try and save. Eight years later and I still have no money in that pot. She was struggling for a while to manage her bills correctly. Her pop helped out, but she’s stubborn and wanted to manage on her own. It’s expensive to fly back here. She couldn’t afford it. But more, I don’t think she’s ever wanted to come back here.
The whole place reminds her of her mom—her loss. So I wonder why now? She always told me when she had the money she would pay for me to go to her, rather than coming back here. I shake my head at the errant thoughts and am about to continue my journey home when I suddenly decide that it’s about time I got batteries. If there’s a new owner and they’re going to sell the shop—the only real home I have—then I want to make the most of the limited time I have left. I buy the batteries and walk back out of Jim’s Hardware Store with a smile on my face and warmth in my chest. Even the thought of telling Keith doesn’t upset me today. Nothing can rain on my parade.
I didn’t think I would feel this happy again. Can you imagine? Resigned to the fact that I was going to spend the rest of my life miserable. Then the moment a ray of light shines on me and I feel that long since lost emotion, I suddenly find myself wondering how I’d ever lived without it. Even Keith can’t turn my mood sour right now.
He’s sitting in his usual spot in front of the television when I get in. Obviously not going to work today. “What the fuck are you whistling for?” he snaps.
I stop confused. “Was I? I didn’t realize.” He doesn’t say anything, so I make my way into the living room and sit on the chair next to his. He doesn’t even turn his head to look at me. “Keith,” I say.
“What,” he answers not pulling his eyes away from the television.
“It was my weekly chat with Amanda today.” He snorts his disgust, he never liked her, telling me she lead me astray. He was happy when she moved to France. Even through my pain, he could only see it as a win on his part. So I can’t wipe the glee from my face when I tell him, “Yep, she’s coming back.”
Snapping his head around to me with narrowed eyes he moans, “What the fuck does she want to come back to this shithole for? I wou
ld’ve thought she’d be too good for the likes of us? I figured she only spoke to you each week to brag about how amazing her life is, and how much better she is than you. She always was better than you.” With still narrowed eyes he looks me up and down as his lips curl. Even that can’t bring me down. He must know by now that I’m hardened to his shit. Most of the time, at least.
“Whatever you think, Keith, I’m happy,” I tell him, the smile never slipping from my face.
“She better not come over here. She’s not welcome,” his angry mouth spews out. He turns back to the television, raising the volume of the football so I can’t be heard over the drone. I realize I’ve been dismissed. Getting up and moving into the kitchen, I pull out the things needed for dinner. I catch myself in the mirror again, as I often do, but this time, there’s something new to see—a smile on my face. It lights me up, and for a second I get a glimpse of the eighteen-year-old me, the one that was left behind, the one I gave up on. Only when I remember that does my smile slip.
“Mr Quinn.” Rousing to the noise of someone calling me joined by tapping on the door, I throw my arm across my eyes not wanting to move. Moving means facing whatever is out there.
“Coming,” I croak unhappily. Clearing my throat, I glance at the time, six twenty-five a.m. I groan and drag myself out of bed. Looking down my body I can see that I’m still wearing the same clothes I had on last night when I was looking through paperwork on the bed, it’s the last thing my brain remembers. I glance back at the bed. Yep. The paperwork is now everywhere, including the floor. Walking to the hotel door and pulling it open, I immediately turn around and walk back to the phone calling room service to ask for coffee. I didn’t even look to see who was at the door, but I’m more than aware, however, that it’ll be Layla, even if initially I didn’t recognize her voice. Nobody else is crazy enough to wake me up this early in the morning.
Finally Unbroken Page 3
