by J. A. Howell
“What happened? I heard a shriek.” Aggie smirked at me as soon as I came through the kitchen door with a sheepish pout on my face.
“I knocked over a rack. Nolan wouldn't let me clean up though.”
“Oh, he could do with a break from that stupid computer. You're fine.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Now go fill those dispensers,” she winked.
As it rolled into early evening, things at the pub picked up a little. It was obvious I was far from the Bible belt as the place grew crowded. College students, out for a few drinks and a game of pool filled the pub. Aggie had me back behind the bar with her for the remainder of the evening, watching as I fixed a few of the drinks she taught me and giving me pointers on pouring the beer. I barely saw Nolan all evening until it was time to leave. I headed towards the back to clock out and hang up my apron, once again passing Nolan's office. The door was cracked open but I didn't see him in there this time. I shrugged and turned toward the wall to punch my timecard before tugging at my apron.
“Good job today.” Nolan’s low voice rumbled behind me. I jumped and my hands dropped the apron strings I'd been fussing with as I spun around. “Sorry. Didn't mean ta scare ya.”
“It's fine. Thank you for the job, by the way.” I returned to untying the apron from my waist.
“Don't mention it. We needed extra help.” His gaze slowly lifted to mine as he leaned against the adjacent wall. Once again, I noticed that odd look of recognition as he seemed to study the features of my face. After a moment his lips turned down into a frown and his stance suddenly grew rigid. “Anyway, um...keep it up. See ya tomorrow.”
He cleared his throat and abruptly turned away from me, leaving me baffled at how quickly his demeanor towards me seemed to shift. Maybe Aggie was right, he was just on the antisocial side. I was too exhausted from a full day of work to contemplate it further. After all, he was just my boss. I didn't need to like him, as long as I could tolerate him.
I grabbed my bag from the hook and replaced it with my apron. After leaving the pub, I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and let it fall free. Despite sore feet, I kept a brisk pace as I walked home. I was ready to curl up with some tea then hit the sack. I hoped I wouldn’t have any more weird dreams like the night before.
I still couldn’t piece together why I’d dreamt about that girl, why I’d kissed her, or why she looked like a paler version of me. And the mirrors. Had I really seen something in them? I was sure it was only my subconscious teasing me after the landlord told me about the suicide. Just like my eyes had played tricks on me in the bathroom mirror. I always had an overactive imagination and a knack for scaring myself. When I was about six, my mom made the mistake of letting me watch The Shining with her one night. It was the main reason why I don’t like sleeping with all the lights off, and why to this day, I still feel a little creeped out whenever I see identical twins.
When I arrived home, there was nothing to greet me but peace and quiet. I kicked my boots off by the door, started a kettle of water on the stove, and walked to the bedroom to change. My legs and feet had grown painfully sore from spending the day on them, but it felt good knowing that I could take care of myself – despite it being drilled in my head otherwise by “Mister Wonderful.”
I stripped down to my underwear and slid on PJ pants and a long sleeve top before tentatively peering at myself in the large oval mirror. There was only my reflection staring back. Hmmph. Just my imagination. There’s no such thing as ghosts. I didn’t have the luxury of getting spooked like the previous tenants, so better not to divulge in ghost tales and other supernatural crap that wasn’t possible.
I smiled contently and reassured myself as I padded back toward the kitchen where the kettle was just starting to whistle. Chamomile tea with honey, then sleep. My mouth salivated at the thought and as I poured the hot water over the teabag, the fragrant and calming scent of chamomile instigated a yawn. I squeezed some honey into the mug and stirred it around, watching it melt into the hot liquid. After a few minutes and blowing a few breaths over the surface, I lifted it to my lips and took a sip. My body relaxed as the tea’s warmth spread through me. I started for my bedroom as sleep called out to me, my senses already dulling. I paused outside my bedroom, flipping off all but one small hallway light. My tired eyes gave the darkened living room one last compulsory sweep, running over the dark silhouette of a man by the large picture window before I turned for my bed.
Wait…what?
My heart thumped loudly and tea spilled over the ceramic mug as I spun around, flipping on all the lights. My pulse raced as I stared around the empty living room for a couple of minutes, but nobody popped out of a hiding place. The only movement came from the building across the street that casted shadows into my living room.
It’s just your eyes…It’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.
Go to bed.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Crusty Biscuit
The rest of the week, my routine was very much the same - get up, spend some leisurely time hanging around the apartment, and head in to work. The last few mornings, leisure time meant reading from a stash of romance novels I'd found while cleaning the apartment. One of the previous tenants must have been a fan of breezy blouses and brawny men. Not my taste in literature, but entertaining in its own way nonetheless
Just after noonish each day, I headed to Finley's for the night. I enjoyed working with Aggie and it seemed we were becoming quite the pair, making out like thieves most evenings, thanks to the overly generous drunken patrons. Just one week in Midtown felt decades away from my old life. I felt happy and comfortable. There hadn’t been any more weird occurences in the apartment, convincing me further that it was all in my head. I was certain I had only been allowing the fear of all that had happened with Jackson to bleed into my new life. It made sense in retrospect.
Thinking I saw a man's shadow in the mirror – I had been thinking about Jackson while I was in the shower. There was nothing wrong with this place, my mind just didn't want to believe things were finally okay. During my first few days in Midtown, I had almost expected to find Jackson waiting for me every time I walked out my front door. He never was, and it was silly to think he would be. Jackson wouldn't know where to find me. I was in some tiny city I’d never heard of, what were the odds he would have?
For my first day off, I planned to get to know my new town a bit better. After a shower, I slipped on a comfortable pair of jeans, a fitted white t-shirt, and a purple cable stitch hooded sweater. The weather had grown cooler since I arrived, it was comfortable for the time, but I made a mental note to pick up a good warm jacket while I was out.
Nolan hadn’t said much to me all week aside from telling me to take today off. After working six days this week I would get a bit of overtime and I was happy to earn some extra money, but I definitely welcomed the day off. I had been itching to explore Midtown, and with my extra tip money from last night, I planned on treating myself to a nice local breakfast. A sense of adventure spread a smile across my lips as I slid my feet into my brown slouchy leather boots. I still could not get over my newly found freedom. Even before I was with Jackson, I always had my mother to answer to.
“Ugh, my mother.”
Instant guilt sunk in at the thought of her. Granted, since I’d been with Jackson she barely heard from me as it was, but word would have gotten to her that I skipped town. I needed to let her know I was okay, but I couldn’t risk calling her from here.
I made another mental note to get in touch with her in a couple of days. For now though, I pushed thoughts of her away as I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. A gust of wind hit me the moment I exited the apartment building. I shivered as the cool air seemed to blow right through the knitted fabric of my sweater. No need to remind myself about that jacket. I headed a few blocks over, back towards Finley's. I remembered seeing a small bakery nearby.
Sure enough, I found it was the next storefront down from Finley's. The Cru
sty Biscuit. I smiled at the name and the eccentric looking shop front. A wooden board hung over the doorway. On it an old, weathered biscuit wearing a sailor's hat stared into the horizon as he stood at the helm of a ship, his hands gripping wooden wheel. The smell of freshly baked, and undoubtedly non-crusty, bread baking lured me inside as I pushed the door open. An older man with graying red hair stood behind the counter watching me, wearing the same expression as the biscuit on the sign out front. I offered a friendly smile as I walked towards the counter and his face instantly lit up into a welcoming, albeit creepy, grin.
“Mornin’, lass. What can ah dae fir ye this lovely mornin’?” A thick Scottish accent asked as his smile grew and deepened the laugh lines around his mouth. My eyes found the menu hanging on the wall behind him and looked over the listed items with varying off-color names such as “Bearded” clams (not a typo) and “S.O.S.- Shit on a Shingle.”
“I'd recommend a Salty Dog Breakfast Biscuit.” A familiar voice whispered in my ear. My shoulders stiffened and I cocked my head to the side to find Nolan leaning toward me. Those striking blue eyes watched me as I slowly relaxed. Before I could ask what he was doing here, the man behind the counter asked for me.
“Aye, whit're ye doin’ here, Irish boy?” The old man hollered at Nolan, his eyes narrowing as his grin turned impish. Nolan only smiled and shook his head at him.
“Two Salty Dog Biscuits, Angus.” Nolan turned to me again.”My treat?”
I only nodded, a bit taken back by his sudden friendliness.
“Pffft. Ah see yir sissy little Irish tummy is still too tender tae order some of ma’ famous haggis!” The old man, Angus, nearly spit as he laughed.
“I was five when you made me try it.” Nolan sighed, a smile still lingering on his lips.
“Aye, and ye spewed it all o'er my floor! Didnya?” Angus snorted as he wagged a large finger at Nolan.
“What's haggis?” I interjected; unsure I even wanted to know.
“Ah've got some cookin’ in the back if ye want a taste, lass.” Angus' smile stretched as he leaned forward, wiggling a bushy eyebrow at me.
“Don't do it, Harley.” Nolan shot me a sideways glance and shook his head with a solemn expression, “it's stuffed sheep organs.”
“Yeck!” My face twisted in disgust and Angus roared with laughter before he disappeared into the kitchen.
I turned back toward Nolan as we waited for our food. He scrubbed a hand over his face in a poor attempt to hide his amusement at my horrified expression.
“Angus is a bit crazy, but his food – aside from the haggis – is pretty good.” Nolan assured me, leaning back against the counter.
“I take it you eat here a lot?” I watched him as he pushed a few light brown curls away from his face.
“At least once a week, I enjoy insults with my breakfast.” Nolan shrugged. I gave him a slow nod, still unsure of his sudden friendly nature. It was a complete contrast to the introvert that seemed to have been avoiding me for the past week. A few minutes later, Angus returned to the counter with two sandwiches wrapped in paper. Nolan thanked him and handed him cash before returning his attention to me.
“I was going to go for a walk,” he motioned towards the door, watching me with curiosity, “would you like to join me?”
“Really? I mean, sure.” Nolan’s eyebrows pinched together thoughtfully for a second then relaxed as he grabbed the sandwiches and waited for me to follow him to the door. The cold air greeted us as we exited and once again, I let out a shiver.
“You should have worn something warmer.” He said as he handed me a sandwich. It was warm and toasty in my hands and smelled delicious.
“I don’t have anything warmer. It’s on my list of things I need to get today.”
“Well, borrow this until then. It should help a little.” Nolan produced a scarf from his inside his jacket then wrapped it around my neck gently before he continued walking. I couldn’t help but breathe in his clean, soapy scent as the wool of his scarf brushed against my cheek.
“Um...thanks.” I mumbled, even more bemused by his behavior. “Why are you being nice to me? Is this like your non-boss persona, or what?”
He slowed to a stop and glanced over at me with a troubled expression on his face. It quickly turned to stone once more, just like the Nolan I had seen all week.
“I had a lot on my mind this week. I’m sorry if I came across rude.” He apologized and his expression softened. I nodded and offered a sympathetic smile as I unwrapped my sandwich and took a bite. My hands were finally warm, and my stomach was growling.
“Mmm, this is good.” I mumbled as I licked my lips.
A small grin pulled at the corners of Nolan’s mouth before he shifted the conversation away from himself. “So how did you end up in Midtown?”
“I just needed a change of scenery.” I shrugged, not wanting to talk about myself any more than Nolan seemed to. What could I say? I left because my fiancé beat the crap out of me?
Nolan nodded, continuing our walk silently for several minutes as we both consumed our breakfast sandwiches and the ambiance of the city morning. Nolan wandered toward an empty bench that sat in a small courtyard off of the main downtown shopping district. I followed and sat down on the opposite end before taking another bite. When I looked toward him again, I found his cool blue eyes already watching me with a puzzled expression.
“What is it?” I raised an eyebrow and quickly looked down at my sweater. Had I spilled crumbs all over myself? He shook his head, his lips forming into a frown.
“Sorry. It’s just, sometimes at first glance ya remind me of someone.” He said softly as his eyes returned to mine
“Oh?” I had no idea how to react. I looked back down at my sandwich as I felt his eyes still intent on me.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” His voice held a tinge of sadness before he quickly resumed his usual stony expression and tone. “I should get back ta the Pub. I need ta be gettin' ready for lunch.” He stood up and brushed himself off as he avoided my gaze.
“Well, take your scarf.” I attempted to untangle it from my neck unsuccessfully as I stood to follow him.
“Don’t worry about it. Just give it back to me later.” He waved a hand at me before he turned and quickly stalked away.
CHAPTER SIX
Frozen
As I headed back towards my apartment later that afternoon, my mind wandered back to Nolan. What the hell had that been all about? One minute Nolan was Mr. Social Butterfly and the next he was back to his usual standoffish self. I did my best to block him from my thoughts, despite having to walk right past Finley’s on my way home. Luckily for me, he was nowhere to be seen. Probably off sulking over something in his office. I pulled my new jacket tighter around me and picked up my pace.
I had spent the better part of the day exploring Midtown and shopping. The balls of my feet ached with each step I took and I was eager to get home. My biggest splurge had been my new leather jacket. It was a little expensive, but I wasn’t shivering anymore and it was pretty cute. I’d also happened to find a small art store tucked away in a nook off of Park Avenue. For such a small shop it had a wide array of art supplies. I left with a decent bundle of paints, brushes, and a few small canvases.
It had been a while since I had painted anything. Jackson never cared for my art. He told me to “leave the art to the professionals,” meaning the expensive pieces he had hanging around his mansion. Professional or not, it relaxed me, and regardless of what anyone else thought of my art, I happened to like it.
My apartment building came into view as I rounded the corner, filling me with relief my long trek was nearly over. Once inside my apartment I dumped the contents of my art store shopping bag onto the kitchen table, discarding the other two bags on a chair. My fingers itched to use every shade of paint and play with my new brushes. In fact, it sounded like the perfect ending to my night.
I pulled open the fridge and poured myself a tall glass of iced tea. I co
uldn't leave everything in the south. Sweet iced tea was one addiction I brought with me.
I turned toward the kitchen window, peering out at the city as the sky darkened and the street lights flickered on. As an artist, you never know when inspiration will strike. Sometimes it comes from something life-altering, other times it will just be a nice view from your kitchen window. I smiled, satisfied with my first subject. After all, this city was my salvation, my escape from my former life. Why not capture it on canvas?
I grabbed my new art supplies then pulled myself onto the counter and propped the canvas against my thighs as I sketched the outlines of the city. The more my hands moved over the canvas, the happier I felt. I stayed in that spot for hours as the picture grew, layer upon layer, from a simple sketch to a colorful city of grays, pinks, oranges, and purples. After a while, it felt as though I wasn’t even in control anymore. My inner muse had grabbed hold of the brush as it swirled splotches of paint into street corners and traffic lights. By the time I finally finished, I realized just how late it was. The clock read a quarter past one in the morning. I didn't need to be up early, but the exhaustion from a busy day about town was finally setting in. My legs ached once again, as did my back from sitting on my kitchen counter hunched over the canvas all night. I carefully placed the painting on the counter then slid down to the floor.
No need to make tea tonight, I thought as a yawn passed my lips. I was ready to fall asleep. If it weren’t for the paint on my hands, I would have made a bee line straight to the bedroom. I pushed the bathroom door open with my elbow and managed to turn the faucet on in a similar fashion. The acrylic paint washed off easily with soap and gentle scrubbing. I smiled at the sight of paint on my hands once again. Tonight had been a good night. I picked up my toothbrush and dipped the bristles under the flowing stream before squeezing toothpaste over them. Another yawn escaped as I brought my gaze up to the mirror to find myself staring at a pair of green eyes.
