It was something she’d always wanted to do, what she’d worked for as long as I could remember. But right now any happiness I felt for her was overshadowed by the feeling of absolute abandonment.
It was like a sucker-punch.
“What? A month?” I knew my voice was registering my displeasure, but I couldn’t help it.
She had just gotten here, and now she was telling me that she was leaving? How was I supposed to react to that? What had happened to being there for each other?
“I know, it’s very soon, but they needed me right away. They’re trying to get moving on some really big projects, and the research that I do is pivotal to their being able to get the funds they need.”
She looked excited, then seemed to remember that it meant leaving me.
Again.
I closed my eyes to keep the room from spinning out of control.
“I want to be happy for you, Kate. I really do,” I whispered, my eyes still closed. “But I can’t.” I felt the sting of tears that I didn’t want, felt my nose burn. “I feel so alone. And even though you’re here now, you’re not.”
There was nothing she could say to that, because she knew that it was true.
Chapter 3
It was late afternoon, a time seemingly shared by all citizens of the universe in their primal need for caffeine, and a typical Sunday in the city was no exception. The coffee house down the street from my apartment was packed to bursting, its clientele running the gamut from coffee house junkies to those whose relationship with coffee was a mere dalliance.
I would have fallen into the category of junkie, though my need was not so much to feed a caffeine addiction as it was for a haven.
Buzzing Beans had opened six months ago, three months after I’d lost Paul. It had become a place I could go without fear of remembering some conversation we’d had there or regular appearances together that made these people realize that I was only half of a pair.
Here, there was no Paul and Zoë.
There was simply Zoë, the sad looking woman with curly brown hair who came in practically every day and always ordered the same thing.
Zoë, who always seemed as though she only vaguely remembered what happy used to feel like.
Here, within the walls of Buzzing Beans, I had found a second home. Ray, proud owner and head bean-pusher, had even become a brotherly presence in my life. He watched over me without ever prying for details I wasn’t ready to give, offering me his own brand of comfort with each cup of coffee he served. My drink was always ready for me by the time I walked up to the register, and Ray always refused payment. Suffice it to say, his tip jar reaped the benefits.
I took Kate there that afternoon in an attempt to escape my apartment and the tension I felt so thickly gathered there. Since her arrival on my doorstep the day before, she’d spent practically every moment glued to my side, with the exception of a quick trip back to her parents’ house to drop off all her things and visit for a few hours. I knew that this was just her initial knee-jerk reaction to having been gone so long and her fear that I really was as fragile as everyone seemed to think.
I would have thought my best friend knew me better than that, that she would have had confidence enough in my survival skills to know that I would eventually get through this a much stronger, self-reliant woman.
But not even I had that confidence.
How could I, when I felt so broken?
In moments of clarity, I could recognize the fact that I had allowed myself to slip into a deep depression, that I needed to find some way out of it. But I had no idea how, other than spilling my guts in a therapist’s office for an hour every week or shoveling pills down my throat. Neither option was something I really wanted to have to explore.
“Hey, Zoë, who’s the pretty lady?” Ray asked, bouncing up on his toes as he stood behind the counter.
“Nice greeting,” I replied with a light edge of scolding. “This is my best friend, Kate. Kate, this is Ray.”
“Nice to meet you, Ray,” she said, offering him a sweet smile. “Zoë’s been singing your praises all day. And I can’t thank you enough for watching out for her while I was away.”
Kate’s smile, I noticed, seemed to grow even wider as she spoke. I hadn’t really been giving him nearly as many accolades as she was implying. True, I’d told her how great he’d been to me over the past few months and that he had become a self-appointed watchdog of sorts, but…
I flushed with embarrassment, hoping Ray wasn’t getting the wrong impression.
“No problem,” Ray replied, waving away Kate’s thanks. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too, Kate. It’s nice to finally have a face to put with the name, and hopefully I’ll see more of you before you leave…” He trailed off, looking at me.
“So, um, Ray,” Kate began, clearing her throat. “What’s good here?”
“Good?” he repeated, shaking his head in mock disgust. “We don’t do good here. Good is for sub-par, nameless-faceless-on-every-street-corner-in-the-world coffee shops.” He paused for dramatic effect. And possibly to catch his breath. “We do excellent.”
The rest of the exchange was a blur of drowned-out words and movements, an event I was only physically part of. It was the same way I lived most moments of my life lately, like being underwater in a pool and looking up at the people standing at the edge of it. You can hear talking and see images, but nothing makes complete sense.
“Zoë, did you hear that?”
I blinked rapidly, breaking through the surface of the water.
“What? I’m sorry,” I said, thinking I must have looked a complete idiot. I shook my head. “No, I missed what you said.”
Kate looked at me for a long moment, trying to get a read on me.
“Ray says he has a buddy who’s going to be out of the country for the next nine months and needs a house-sitter while he’s away.” Her eyes widened with excitement. “Isn’t that interesting?” she prompted.
Apparently, it was much more interesting to her than it was to me. Or I was just completely missing something here. How on earth was this relevant to me?
She continued, looking intently at me for some sign of comprehension. She was going to be sorely disappointed, though, because I wasn’t getting it even enough to fake that I was getting it.
“You know—take care of the place, live there with only utilities to pay. Of course, his stuff will basically all still be there. The whole point of this is that he doesn’t want to have to deal with the hassle of renters, but he also doesn’t want to have to worry about the house sitting vacant for so long.”
I was still looking at her quite blankly.
Clearly, I must still be missing something.
Ray apparently picked up on my confusion and took pity on me. He stroked his closely clipped, chestnut-colored beard and leaned conspiratorially close.
“I think she thinks you should consider doing him a favor and taking the worry of the house off his hands,” he whispered loudly.
I raised an eyebrow and looked from Ray to Kate and back again to Ray.
“You two are both nuts,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “Insane. This guy’s never met me. How would me being in his house be ‘doing him a favor?’” I asked, making air quotes with my fingers.
Ray straightened and pulled his most serious face. It was almost comical.
“Neil and I have been friends since we were ten, and he takes my opinion of people very seriously. If I told him I found someone I thought would be a perfect person to have staying in his house, believe me—he wouldn’t think twice about letting you stay there. He’s got plenty of other worries right now just trying to get all of his stuff together to go. Taking this off his shoulders would be a big relief to him.” He smiled at me. “Besides, then I’d be able to keep a closer eye on you after Kate here leaves to go live up in Hot-lanta.”
I turned to Kate and gave her my best withering look.
“What’s this, you know him for five mi
nutes and already you’ve got him brainwashed to be on your side?”
My death stare moved to Ray.
“What happened to loyalty?” I asked, feigning disgust and shaking my head.
I felt inexplicably as if I might be staring in the face of an unexpected opportunity, and there was an undercurrent of excitement running through me. But it had been so long since I’d felt anything of the sort that it was almost a foreign sensation.
Unidentifiable, confusing.
A little bit scary, even.
Ray shot me a wounded look.
“I am loyal to a fault. To. A. Fault,” he said solemnly. “In fact, Loyalty is my middle name. I just happen to think that Kate here is absolutely right, and you need to move.”
His head moved up and down in a slow nod, his dark hair flopping into his eyes.
Kate shot me a See? look, to which I responded with another cocked-eyebrow scowl.
I couldn’t take this anymore. I needed to get out of there, away from the pressure I suddenly felt piling on me. I knew they both meant well, knew that both of them only wanted the best for me. But I also knew that Kate was trying to rush me into doing something I didn’t feel ready for, that Ray didn’t have nearly all the pieces of the puzzle.
He didn’t know why I came in so often looking as though I was in mourning.
He’d never asked, and I’d never told him.
I couldn’t bear the thought of having his pity.
“I—” I started, feeling my chest tighten as though someone was sitting on it.
And then I walked out, away from the smell of coffee and the suffocating feeling that I was having my last shred of control taken away from me.
It’s amazing how quickly fear can turn a glimmer of hope into the headlights of an oncoming train.
Chapter 4
It was time.
It was time, and I could do this.
I was doing this.
Millions of people all over the world did this every day without giving it a second thought, yet here I was—paralyzed.
I was standing in line at the movie theater, alone.
All alone.
In a long, snake-like line of people that seemed to have no end.
Alone.
In line to buy a single ticket to sit alone in a darkened theater full of people who didn’t give me a thought.
All alone.
Did I really want to do this?
No, Zoë, you don’t. But you also don’t want to have to spend the rest of your life without ever going to see a movie in the theater. It wasn’t fair to put those kinds of restrictions on my life. After all, there was no guarantee.
No guarantee that I would find a friend to go with me. No guarantee that I would ever have someone—my someone—to sit with me through a movie, holding my hand or draping an arm cozily around my shoulders.
So it was time to do this, to take the step and get it over with. To acknowledge all the grown-up facts of life: life goes on, and this was simply a movie. Nothing to be afraid of.
Right?
“Please tell me you have a box of Goobers in that gigantic purse of yours, or I’m going to have to conclude that you are a complete theater novice.” There was a familiar voice behind me, so startling that at first I couldn’t place the speaker. I felt a rush of relief that warmed me almost to my toes, an unexpected surge of emotion that tickled my nose with tears. An uncontrollable grin broke my focused scowl, and I turned around to face Ray.
Ray, my unexpected savior. There was absolutely nothing even remotely romantic between us, but at that moment, I could have kissed him. The simple sight of him made me want to clap my hands in childish glee.
“What are you doing here?”
I realized the pitch of my voice was borderline squeal, but I couldn’t help it. My relief was indescribable; and grown-up, composed Zoë did a swan dive right off the top of the theater marquee into the kiddie pool. If I didn’t watch it, I might actually grab his hands and start jumping up and down like a sugared-up tween at a boy band concert.
Not exactly the image I wanted to portray. I realized far too late that my reaction to seeing him here, at the theater, was illogical. It was probably a one-in-a-million shot that we had chosen the same movie, so our encounter was not only chance, but very likely only fleeting.
Maybe he was meeting a date.
“I had the evening off, so I thought I’d try to catch a movie.” He paused and flicked a glance at the movie schedule posted in the box office window behind me. “Not really sure what’s playing; but I live close-by, so I figured I’d run by and see. And lo and behold,” Ray finished with a smile.
“Serendipity,” I said, blushing with pleasure.
“Ooh, breaking out the big words,” he laughed, shifting his gaze from my face to sweep the crowd around us.
“Are you meeting someone here? Is Kate with you?” His voice was utterly guileless, no suggestion that he was fishing for an invitation. It was simple curiosity, simple friendliness.
I shook my head, wondering if he would think my answer pathetic. Somehow, it seemed more acceptable for a man to see a movie alone.
But why?
Where had I gotten such a skewed perception of things? Did everyone share that opinion, or was it just me?
“No, not meeting anyone,” I replied finally.
I was almost sure he could see all of the thoughts floating around the air above my head, the way they’re drawn in comic strips.
“Nope. Just me. Alone.” I stopped, realizing the feelings I’d been battling before Ray’s appearance were edging their way out into the open.
I cleared my throat, trying to get a better handle on things.
“Um, I really just wanted to get out and see a movie, you know? It was kind of a last-minute whim, and I figured Kate would probably already have plans.” I tried to smile with more confidence than I felt.
“Besides, she’ll be going to Atlanta really soon, and I need to get used to her not being here again,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Right?” I realized I was nodding my head, likely resembling a bobblehead doll—in an unconscious attempt at convincing not only Ray of my independence, but also myself.
Self-assured, independent Zoë, deciding to go to the movies alone.
Just because.
Just like countless other people did.
“Right,” Ray said, looking a bit skeptical. “So what have you decided to see?”
“Well, I was thinking maybe that one,” I said, indicating the poster for the latest Sarah Jessica Parker movie.
“Surprise, surprise. A chick flick,” Ray chortled.
“What, you expected me to shell out ten dollars to waste the next two hours of my life watching the most mind-numbing display of improbability, explosiveness, and cringe-worthy writing in the theater?” I countered.
“I guess not,” he laughed, smiling at me for a moment. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, but would you like some company?”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Why not? You’re here. I’m here. Who says we shouldn’t go together?” He shrugged. “I don’t think most people go to the movies alone by choice, Zoë. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure that the whole idea of going to the movies is to do it as a group activity. Solo movie watching is why we have Netflix. So that no one sees you alone in your pajamas watching sappy girlie movies and bawling your eyes out when some goon proposes to the girl in the story.” Ray grinned wickedly. “Don’t deny it—you know you do. The minute the guy pops a knee, you break out the box of tissues.” He paused and looked around shiftily before leaning in to whisper.“So do I,” he said. “And then I have pillow fights with my buddies before we braid each other’s hair.”
I reached out to swat his arm.
“Jerk.”
“Seriously, though. Why don’t you let me come with you? If nothing else, you can argue with me afterwards about how lovely the storyline was, even if it was completely imp
lausible. Mmmkay?”
I eyed him contemplatively. Why was he always so nice to me? He hardly knew me, yet he seemed to understand me. It was an odd sort of familiarity—like someone you’ve known your whole life, even from the first moment of meeting. And Ray seemed to be exactly what I needed, there to be a friend.
Now it was up to me to let him be there.
I smiled, one that I meant.
One that I hoped could convey how much I wanted to say but didn’t really know how.
“That would be great, Ray. Really great.” I paused, widening my smile. “And seeing as I am shamefully lacking in provisions, I would love to buy you some Goobers for your trouble.”
“Sweet!” Ray said. “Now I can do my Goober dance.”
My eyes grew in horror. “You have a Goober dance?”
Ray shook his head as he took his place in line beside me. “You are so easy,” he said with a laugh.
“It’s Kate,” I said two hours later, reading the display on my ringing phone as Ray and I meandered out of the theater.
Our rom-com deficiency now sated, I couldn’t help but wonder where the evening would take us next. How was I going to untangle and gracefully make an exit without appearing rude?
I flipped it open and raised it to my ear.
“Hey, Kate, where are you?”
“Where are you?” she asked back. “There’s fifty kinds of noise in the background.” She paused for a beat. “Are you at a bar? Tell me you’re not at a bar. Your mother would kill me if she found out you went to a bar alone.”
“Hey!” I said, mildly insulted. “Why would you assume I was at a bar? And, more importantly, why are you assuming I would be there alone?”
There was a stunned silence that crackled through her end of the line.
“Okay, I know you’ve been through a lot lately, but you’re still Zoë—and the Zoë I know is hardly a barfly. So come on. Where are you?”
There was still a thin edge of uncertainty in Kate’s voice, enough for me to know that she was slightly thrown. I could almost hear the wheels grinding in her head. Had I changed enough in the year that she’d been gone that I might actually hit the bar scene to drown my sorrows?
Coming Home to You Page 3
