“Not always a choice in residency. You don’t always get your first pick. But he said he liked the thought of a small town for his residency. Wanted to check out what things were like in a smaller setting. Believe it or not, we have a decent residency program.”
“Oh, I see. He’s not here because he wants to be.”
“That could always change,” Dr. Conlan responds, shining a light into my eyes as he grins.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just seems sort of interesting that he found you. Kind of like fate or something.”
“Really? You’re telling me you’re a fate kind of guy?”
“When you’ve worked this job as long as I have, Marley, you start to believe in things like that. Sometimes that’s the only explanation.”
I shake my head—once he’s done searing my eyeballs out with his bright-as-the-sun light.
“Marley, talk to me. How’s your mom? Margaret and I haven’t seen her around much.”
I exhale, remembering my secrets at home aren’t secrets from Dr. Conlan. He’s been our neighbor since I was born. He knows more about my life than anyone, for better or worse.
“Not good. Things got rough last night.”
“You know our door is always open. Your room is still untouched.”
I smile, thinking about the pink walls and the rose-covered comforter Margaret bought for me when I was seven. I’d stayed with Margaret and Joe Conlan quite a few times over the years when Mom wasn’t well.
“And I love you guys for it. But I’m okay. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to be tough all the time, Marley. Just saying.”
“Well, my tough skull helped out tonight, didn’t it? See, I’m fine. I told you.”
“I think you’re right. Just please, if you want to impress the new doctor in residency, you don’t need to fling yourself off the ledge to do it. Just ask him to go for coffee.”
“Joe Conlan. You know I’m not interested in a relationship.” I shake my head and turn away from him, grinning in spite of myself.
“Marley Jade, why not? You know, not all men are the devil. Look at me. I’m not half bad.”
I chuckle as he readjusts his glasses. “I agree. You’re not half bad.” I concur.
He leans in to give me a hug, smiling as I thank him. “See you tomorrow, kid. I’ll come check up on you.”
“Thanks, Joe. Tell Margaret I’ll be over to see her soon.”
He turns to leave. “Oh, and Marley? Listen, don’t say never because of what happened in your past. Stay open to possibility, you know? There are worse things than falling—in love, that is.”
Before I can argue, Joe is out the door, and I’m left with my paper-thin blanket, squeezing myself tighter.
***
At Joe’s insistence, I take a taxi home after getting the all-clear. It’s probably one of three taxis in the town. Being a taxi driver isn’t exactly profitable in a town with about three restaurants and a movie theater for entertainment. When it pulls up to the familiar white house, I realize I don’t have any money with me. The driver notices the panic on my face.
“It’s fine. Doc Conlan paid for it.”
I shake my head. Of course he did. That man thinks of everything.
I thank the driver, close the door, and traipse up the familiar, cracked driveway, plowing through the door that’s eternally unlocked. Not like there’s much to steal here anyway, and not like anyone in this town would think about robbing this place.
The house is pitch-black, my breathing the only sound. I don’t bother flicking on a light to eye up the tower of dishes I know are in the sink, or the random clutter. I feel my way down the hallway like a blind person, tiptoeing until I reach my bedroom door.
When I get there, I launch myself into my bed, the same bed from my childhood days, and wonder how the hell I got here. I stare at the ceiling, the crazy night swirling in my head like a nausea-inducing carnival ride. The screaming match with Mom. The slamming door. The snap in me. The crumpled bag, almost giving in to temptation.
The fall.
The rescue.
Alex.
As I close my eyes and let sleep take over, I think about how shitty things are, how it’s messed up that I’m still here, always right here, in the same broken-down house with the same broken-down life.
Above all, I think about how shitty it is I couldn’t even hold on to that.
***
The alarm’s infernal blare comes too soon. I feel like hell the next morning, the chipper Samba music infuriating me like it always does. I’ve never been a morning person. I slap at my phone before groaning and sitting up to figure out how to shut the damn music off. After fumbling with way too many buttons, I manage to silence what might as well be a funeral dirge. I rub the sleep from my eyes as I drag myself out of bed.
Another day.
After a five-minute shower and the realization we’re out of hair conditioner, I toss my wet hair into a bun, throw on some clothes that will pass for work, and saunter out the door, glad I have a ten-minute walk to get awake.
The sun beams down on me, a contrast to my dark mood. I try to shrug it off. It’s a new day. There’s no use dwelling on the messed-up situation last night. I’m usually much better at smiling through.
As soon as I walk in the door at work, Becca comes rushing toward me, her flouncy blonde ponytail swinging.
“Oh my God, Marley, are you okay? Dane just told me what happened. You shouldn’t be here. You should be resting. You could have died!”
I stare at Becca, thankful there are only a few elderly patrons in the corner of the shop. I shake my head, Becca’s words rattling through me at a mile a minute. Apparently, she’s already made herself her customary three lattes this morning.
“Becca, I’m fine. Really. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? Mom said you could’ve drowned,” Dane says, coming up behind her.
Dane owns Georgia’s, Rosewood’s finest organic coffee bar—named after his mother, who is a nurse at Rosewood Hospital. He’s more than my boss, though. He’s truly become a friend over the years. Even though we went to high school together, we were never close back then. He was the straight-A student; I was the girl smoking in the bathroom, skipping class, and barely passing. He was the cocky jock who told everyone my name was Bob Marley and harassed me whenever he got the chance.
The harassment part still hasn’t quite changed. Neither has his penchant for success.
Perhaps this is why at nineteen, Dane opened Georgia’s, and I ended up pouring coffee for him. And never left.
I know it could be worse. I’m thankful to have a job that helps pay the bills and is mostly pleasant—Becca’s excessive perkiness aside.
“That’s right, Marley. Drowned. As in D-R-O-W-N-E-D.”
I shake my head. You’ve got it. Becca was a cheerleader in high school. She graduated one year after me. And, as you probably already guessed by now, she also wasn’t one of my close friends. The bouncy cheerleader doesn’t usually make time for the Poe-loving, tattoo-sporting rebel of the school.
It’s funny, though, because a few years out of high school and, other than her perky, cheer-like spellings of potentially deadly situations, you’d forget we were in different cliques. Getting to know her these past few years, I’ve realized she isn’t half bad.
If you can deal with her incessant glee, that is.
“I’m fine, really. It was an accident.”
“Well, Mom did tell me the new doctor saved you. And she also told me he’s quite easy on the eyes,” Dane says, elbowing me in the ribs. His mother is both the head ER nurse and the town’s biggest gossip.
Of course, in a town as small as Rosewood, forgetting to get your newspaper in the morning makes its rounds in the gossip circles. You can’t do anything in peace here, let alone fall off a bridge.
“Everyone’s being a bit dramatic. It’s all good.�
� I grab my apron and tie it around my waist, trying to ignore the hovering coworkers who are definitely invading my personal space this morning.
“So, is it true? Is he sexy?” Becca asks as she follows me behind the counter.
“I don’t know. Go check him out if you’re so curious,” I respond with a bit of edge in my voice.
I put on my name tag, trying not to stab myself like I normally do, as Becca and Dane simultaneously say, “He must be hot.”
I sigh, heading to the back to get some cupcakes and cookies to restock the front display. The morning rush is about to begin, and I’m ready to put all this crazy talk behind me. I’m ready to blend back in, to be Marley the brooding barista who is just sort of standing still.
Becca animatedly moves on from the depressing talk of my almost death and starts chatting about college and new roommates and the psychology class that is just to die for—she seriously says that.
I smile and nod at the appropriate times, truly glad to see her so happy. She’s a good person, she really is.
But I can’t help but feel a little bit of envy creeping in.
I know it’s my fault. I know the position I’m in is because of the choices I’ve made. There is no excuse for what I’ve done to my life, no matter what anyone says. I could’ve decided to rise above it all. I didn’t. Instead, I submerged myself in rebellion while my mother drowned herself in sorrow and the bottle. By the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late.
So here I am, wiping counters, measuring coffee beans, and listening to the same chatter from the elderly patrons, the business professionals, and the college freshmen who swing by Georgia’s. I’m stuck staring at the latte machine, wondering how long changing the daily specials sign out front will be my biggest excitement.
All around me, it seems like everyone’s moving on. Dane’s got this place, but he’s looking to buy another coffee franchise, too, and expand his business. Becca’s going back to college in New York in a few weeks.
It’ll just be me and Louise, the elderly lady Dane hired who barely makes eye contact with me other than to glower.
Despite Becca’s laughter and the warm sunshine streaming through the front window, I can’t channel any Bob Marley—my mother loves him, hence my name—and let it all go.
I make it through the morning rush in a daze, pouring more coffees than I can count before it’s finally time for a break.
I head outside to my only sanctuary, my only sanity in this standstill life, my turquoise journal in hand as I venture out into the familiarity of Rosewood and the reprieve of my saving grace.
***
Despite the sun’s warmth, my favorite beanie adorns my head. At this point, it’s become my thing. I feel naked without it.
Sitting under my favorite umbrella on the patio at Georgia’s, I crack open the journal and read yesterday’s musings. Good thing I wrote them in the morning before the paper bag, Humpty Dumpty wall incident. They may have been a little gloomier otherwise.
I read my work about the tree, my favorite tree, and nod, a little impressed by myself. It’s not perfect, but it’s not too bad, either.
I flip the page, ready to put pen to paper, ready to go into the trance I’ve welcomed since childhood. When the screaming got too loud, when the worries became too dark, this is where I escaped.
This is still my escape, the soft words taking the edge off life.
“Hey, Marley, how are you feeling?” a voice asks from behind me. I recognize the voice, but my mind doesn’t quite place it, not here.
I turn to see Alex. He’s wearing scrubs, his white coat, and he’s sporting some pretty noticeable dark circles.
Still, he looks damn good in that coat, especially with stubble defining his already strong jawline. There’s something about a man in uniform and all that.
I shake my head as if I can shake loose the lascivious thoughts building within.
“Hey, I’m fine,” I say, not sure how to respond. I didn’t expect him here.
“I’m glad. Dr. Conlan said you were all clear last night. Pretty lucky, I guess.”
I grin. “Yeah, this pretty decent guy helped me out. He’s not too shabby, you know?”
“I’ve heard he’s got some good biceps going,” he jokes, flexing and then shaking his head, laughing at his ridiculous pose. On some men, it would seem arrogant. On him, with his reddening face marked by dimples, it’s charming. I can tell he doesn’t take himself too seriously—at least when it comes to his muscles.
“So, what are you doing? Off to work?” I ask, trying my hand at small talk.
Alex shakes his head. “Just heading home.”
My jaw drops. “Wait, you haven’t been home yet? You just got off your shift?”
“Uh-huh. Hence the need for a coffee IV at this point.”
I shake my head. “I’m going to have to have a word with Joe. Working you to death over there. Oops, bad pun I guess.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind it. The work I mean, not the pun. I’ve been learning a lot.”
“You know, now that I think about it… he didn’t send you to check up on me, did he?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
Alex puts up a hand, shaking his head. “No, no. I promise I’m not stalking you. Dr. Conlan just said this was the best coffee shop in town.”
“Sure he did,” I add, smiling. That Joe is sly. He knows I always work this shift Tuesdays.
“Is it a lie? Should I go somewhere else?”
“No, it is the best coffee in town. I just suspect Joe had other motives.”
“Like what?” He grins to look innocent, but I can tell from his face he knows exactly what I mean.
“Never mind. Just follow me. I’ll get you a cup on the house. Newcomers’ special.”
I stand from my seat, grabbing my journal.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” Alex states, gesturing toward my journal in my hand.
“It’s fine. Break will be over soon enough. I’ll write later.”
“So you’re a writer?” he asks as I lead him through the door.
I feel my cheeks warm. “Not really. Just as a hobby.”
“What do you like to write?”
“Poetry.”
“That’s awesome. Can I read something?”
I stare at him like he’s got three heads. He puts a hand up again.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to overstep. I just have never really known a poet before.”
I smile now. “I’m not really a poet.”
“And how do you know it?” Alex asks, and then smirks. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
I roll my eyes, but the smile spreads as I readjust my beanie. “Oh my Lord, you must be sleep deprived. That was terrible.”
“You’re right. On both accounts.”
I lead Alex to the counter. Becca and Dane turn to me, then do a double take.
“Oh my, he is definitely a looker,” Becca “whispers.” In actuality, the girl doesn’t know what a whisper is, so it’s more like a shout.
Alex turns an even darker shade of red.
“So, how do you like it?” I ask, trying to distract Alex from the awkward situation. The poor guy doesn’t look like the type to handle being the center of attention, especially in a small coffee shop he’s just walked into.
“I bet he likes it all kinds of ways,” Dane murmurs, elbowing Becca, and the two grin.
Now it’s my turn to blush even more. I’m not sure why; it’s not like I said it. Still, I find myself turning to Alex and apologizing.
“Sorry, Alex. They’re so backward they don’t know how a true place of business is run.”
Alex just shrugs, his face still painted with a smile. “I’ll just drink it black.”
“Black? Really?” I question.
“What’s wrong with that?”
I shrug before replying, “Nothing. Just that I read an article that psychopaths are more likely to drink black coffee.”
“Okay, surprise me then.”
“No, no, we aim to please here,” I retort, pouring his coffee into the foam cup with Georgia’s logo on it. Becca snorts a little, and I roll my eyes. “Okay, really? Are we in high school again? Are you two going to turn everything into an innuendo? Can you please grow up?”
Becca and Dane look at each other before Dane says, “That’s no fun.”
I sigh. “You’re kind of right. But anyway, Alex, please don’t judge Georgia’s by the customer service or lack thereof. The coffee is amazing. Seriously.”
“So how long have you worked here?” Alex asks me.
“Since it opened. So two years.”
He nods as I hand him the to-go cup of coffee. I added a little bit of half-and-half to make me feel better about the psychopath possibility.
Mercifully, the phone rings, and Dane goes to answer it as a customer walks through the door. Becca busies herself with Greg, her latest crush, adding an extra ponytail twirl for good measure.
“It seems like a great place to work.”
“It is. Even though they drive me crazy sometimes, the people are awesome.”
“Seems like a nice town overall,” he says, leaning on the counter as I tidy up, feeling the need to keep my hands busy.
“Yeah. Pretty low-key. I’m sure it’s lame compared to where you’re from.”
“Not lame. But definitely more low-key. I like it though. It’s a nice change of pace.”
I stare at this man before me, a man who has probably seen more of the world than I could ever dream of. A man who is going places, who has been places.
It’s like I’m staring at someone from another world.
“Well, I better let you get going so you can get some sleep,” I comment, not sure what else to talk about. I don’t know why I feel so flustered around him.
“Yeah, I need to catch a few hours before I need to be back.”
“Wait, you have to be back in a few hours? Seriously?”
“No rest for the weary, I guess.”
“Do you get any time off?”
He looks like he’s mentally ticking off his schedule. “Thursday. I’m off all day Thursday.”
“Well, what do you know? Marley’s short shift this week is Thursday. Imagine that,” Dane pipes in, apparently done with his phone call already.
All of You Page 2
