Full Circle

by Dillon Watson

  “Who told you that?”

  “Debbie. And no, she didn’t say how she knew.” Frustration leaked into her voice. “I’m seriously rethinking this promotion business.” She held up a hand when Talya opened her mouth. “I know they win if I do, but if winning means I have to put up with this shit, then losing’s not so bad. In fact, it’s starting to sound good.”

  “Here’s what I think you need to do, go home, relax, lose yourself in a book.”

  “What does that have to do with all this crap?”

  “Absolutely nothing. But after a relaxing evening and a good night’s sleep, I’m betting you’ll be back up to fighting form.”

  * * *

  Sara rushed home and did a spot check. The place passed because she cleaned every Saturday morning like clockwork. A habit ingrained from her time with her aunt, one of the few constructive ones.

  “Italian,” she said, peering through the fridge. Sunday she’d been set on spaghetti with meat sauce. Now that seemed too common. Baked shells were as easy and looked fancier. Substituting spinach for the ground beef would cut down on calories and Mikaela would appreciate that. Leaving the sauce to simmer, she changed out of her work clothes and gave the house one last going over. This was the first time she’d done something like this, and feelings of satisfaction mixed with nervousness.

  By the time Mikaela arrived, the house smelled of garlic and tomato sauce. “Hope you like stuffed shells.” Sara’s voice was breathy after an extended hello kiss. She opened the door to the small hall closet and hung up Mikaela’s coat. Like her, Mikaela was wearing a sweater and jeans. But Sara would never be able to claim her clothes fit her as well as Mikaela’s did.

  “Remember, food junkie.” Mikaela sniffed the air. “Smells great.”

  “Come on into the kitchen. The shells are almost ready. You can watch the chef at work.”

  “It would be better if you had one of those big hats. Maybe only the big hat.”

  “Funny girl. What can I get you to drink?”

  “Diet Coke. No, make that water. Consumed way too much caffeine already.”

  “I also have wine.” Sara held up a bottle of red wine.

  “I’m avoiding alcohol at the moment.”

  “Here you go then.” After handing her a bottle of water, Sara drained the shells, then sprayed them with water. “Any particular reason you’re avoiding alcohol?”

  “When I’m feeling depressed, alcohol tends to make me feel more depressed. And after the day I had, I’m feeling depressed.” Mikaela leaned a hip against the counter and took a healthy swallow of water. “I did warn you I wouldn’t be good company.”

  “Fair enough. Fill me in on what went wrong today.” Sara stood on her tiptoes, pulled down a little-used glass casserole dish from the top shelf. “You didn’t get any trouble about your eye, did you?”

  “Surprisingly no.” Mikaela was silent for a while as she watched Sara stuff the shells with a spinach-ricotta cheese mixture. “Do you know how humiliating it is to have to tell some strange woman that no, you did not have sexual relations with the boss? Have them look at you like you’re crazy when you tell them that you have a good idea who started the rumor and maybe they should be talking to them instead of wasting your time? That if they didn’t want to talk to them, they could look at my résumé and my application and see I don’t need to give blow jobs to get the damn job. It makes me sick. Sick that they can pull the strings without getting hung up in them. Sick of feeling sick whenever I see them. Sick of wondering what’s coming next. I want it all to go away and I know it won’t.” She pressed her fingers against her temples.

  “Oh, Mikaela.” Sara gathered her into her arms. “You’re tired. And who can blame you? Between the two biddies and Nina, you’ve had a rough couple of weeks. Why don’t you go stretch out on the couch while I finish up?”

  “I should go home and take my foul mood with me. I really should.” Mikaela sighed, but she didn’t let go of Sara. “Problem is, I don’t think I have it in me right now to be that selfless.”

  “You don’t have to be. Compromise. How about a glass of wine and you sit and watch a master at work.” She pointed to the table in the corner.

  “I guess one glass wouldn’t hurt.” Mikaela gave Sara a squeeze. “Thanks for putting up with my whiny self.”

  “Returning the favor, remember?” She dropped a kiss on Mikaela’s forehead and decided this caring role wasn’t so scary. “Let’s get you that wine.” Once Mikaela was seated at the table, she delivered the glass of wine, then returned to stuffing the shells. After dusting them with cheese, she slid the dish into the oven and set the timer. “You okay over there?”

  “I am. A small part of it’s the wine. A far greater part is watching you work. There’s nothing like a butch who knows her way around the kitchen.”

  Sara flexed her arms. “For my next feat, I’ll be making salad.”

  “Hear, hear.” Mikaela raised her glass and took a sip. “Hey, I’ve been so focused on me I forgot about your problems. You hear anything more from the lawyer?”

  “To tell you the truth, with everything that happened this weekend, yesterday and dodging the press today, I forgot all about that. I’ll check tomorrow, get that taken care of as soon as possible.” Get it off my brain, she thought as she grabbed a tomato. “On a makes-me-happy note, Art, Shawanna’s husband, dropped off a thank you card while I was at lunch. Jackson gave him my email so he can let me know when the baby comes.”

  “That reminds me. Shopping. I was thinking late Saturday afternoon if you’re available. After that we could stroll around downtown Decatur, grab dinner. There’s lots of good places to eat.”

  “Now that I can handle. Any chance of finding an art supply store? I’m running low on the paper I like.”

  “I can find out. I know there’s a good one on Piedmont across from the Lindbergh train station. Artlife. Been around for a long time. There used to be one on Piedmont near Cheshire Bridge, but it might be closed. Haven’t been that way in a while.”

  “One’s enough. I might swing that way after work, see what they have.”

  “What kind of things do you like to draw? Other than mean girls and zoo animals.”

  “Other animals, plants, mostly things that can’t talk back.”

  “I don’t remember seeing any on my whirlwind tour of your living room. But, then, I don’t remember seeing much of anything on your walls. Not that I can talk. My bedroom was mostly decorated when I moved in. I confess I have this weird rule about never owning more than I can fit in my car. That is, until I can afford to buy a house.”

  Sara looked up from chopping a cucumber. “Is it considered cheating if you buy a bigger vehicle?”

  “Never thought of that. I guess because I have high hopes I’ll get that little house with a yard and a dog sooner rather than later.”

  Sara could easily picture Mikaela in that house, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t say the same about herself. She had strong feelings for Mikaela, no doubt about that. She’d have to figure out if they were enough to make her want to stay in place, put down roots. She thought that would be tough to do after all her years of wandering. “I sort of have a cat. Well, she sort of has me. Moved in when I did and she comes and goes, though lately it seems more coming than going. I call her Tabitha because I think she’s a witch.”

  “A witch or a familiar? Cats are usually familiars.”

  “Witch. She always seems to know when I’m going to eat. Even when she’s not in the house.”

  “Good witch or bad witch?”

  Sara laughed. She should have known Mikaela would play along with the fanciful. “Greedy. She’s a greedy witch.”

  The oven buzzed and Sara removed the dish. “Be right back.” She returned to the kitchen with Tabitha at her heels. “Look who was at the door waiting to be let in.”

  “Witch,” Mikaela announced and poured herself another glass of wine.

  With practiced ease, Sara had
their meal on the table in minutes. She deliberately led the conversation to casual matters while they ate. Mikaela followed her lead, sharing tales from her childhood that left Sara holding her aching stomach.

  “You made some of that up,” Sara said, wiping her eyes.

  “Truth. That woman really thought she could make my great aunt open the door so she could escape the police. She had the wrong house is all I can say.” Mikaela patted her stomach. “That was delicious. You can cook for me anytime.”

  “Thanks. I enjoy cooking, tinkering with recipes, trying to improve them. Trying to come up with something a little different.”

  “Then why aren’t you doing it for a living?”

  “After high school, I got this idea that I would change jobs every year or so, keep things fresh. And since I’ve already done the cooking thing a couple of different ways…” She shrugged, then frowned. “Saying it out loud makes it seem kind of…rigid.” She groaned, grabbed at her head. “Ironic, huh? How my pursuit to be flexible has led me to being the opposite?”

  “Maybe you needed that at one time in your life and it became a habit more than anything.”

  “It did. Why didn’t I see this before? I feel like one of those cartoon characters when the lightbulb goes on over their head.” She shook her head and chuckled. “I can see.”

  “I have to admit I tend to have an enlightening effect on people.”

  “You could start a side business. Mikaela’s House of Enlightenment. It has a ring, doesn’t it?”

  “Could be my fallback solution if things get too crazy at work. Scratch that. Thanks to you, I’m in too good a mood to think about work. I have to say, with all that’s been going on, you’re kind of like my beacon in the storm.”

  Sara’s heartbeat sped up with something like panic. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this, or that she even knew what this was. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I, uh, I…don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” Mikaela finished off her wine. “I just wanted you to know that I know that you’ve done a lot to help me these past few days and I appreciate it. That’s all.”

  There was an edge to Mikaela’s voice that sparked an alarm. “I…I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, I—”

  “It’s okay, Sara. Maybe you should put your head between your legs before you pass out or something.”

  She could see the hurt underneath Mikaela’s smile and still couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound like she was backpedaling. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what she was doing—pulling back instead of stepping forward.

  “I’m gonna go, you know. Thanks for dinner and letting me vent.”

  “You don’t have to go.”

  “I actually think I do.”

  “But…Okay.” With mixed feelings, Sara walked her to the door and helped her with her coat. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay?”

  “I’ll be there.” Mikaela kissed Sara’s cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

  Sara stood on the tiny porch long after Mikaela was out of sight. If only she hadn’t overthought the notion of the little house and living in it year after year. But how could it be her fault when she couldn’t see herself there forever and ever? Surely she, who looked at the map for the next stop and not the end of the journey, couldn’t be expected to change in a day, a week, a month?

  The cold broke through her musings and she stepped back inside to warmth. It was surprising to realize she’d only known Mikaela two weeks. Two measly weeks and yet in a way, it seemed like longer. Some of the feelings of closeness and intimacy she was experiencing were probably wrapped up in recovering her memories of her parents’ deaths. Mikaela had been there for her when no one had ever been. That was powerful stuff.

  As soon as Sara settled on the sofa, Tab claimed her lap and demanded attention. She stroked the cat absently, bent on pinpointing what about Mikaela was so different, so likeable, so…no, she couldn’t say lovable. If it was love, the far-away years would be crystal clear. Love should mean everything was perfect. At least that’s what she’d told herself over the years. What she’d held as the standard, what she remembered her parents had.

  “And almost seven-year-olds know all about romantic love, right?” she asked Tab. “Dumb is what it is.” But that wasn’t surprising, considering her emotional maturity seemed to be stuck in the past.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mikaela was sitting in her darkened room when Casey tapped on her open door. She cleared her tear-clogged throat. “Enter at your own risk.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Maybe tomorrow after I’ve downed my Wheaties. Isn’t that the cereal that makes you a champion?”

  “Maybe. Should I run to the store and buy some?”

  “No. Not having any is in keeping with the rest of my day.”

  “Okay. Well, Suzette’s spending the night, so feel free to walk around naked.”

  Mikaela gave her a wan smile. “Will do.”

  Once Casey left, she looked at her overnight bag. The one she’d packed with toiletries and tomorrow’s work clothes, with the idea of spending the night at Sara’s. Thank God she’d left it in her car, thinking she could run out and get it later if things went the right way.

  Won’t need it now, she thought, and leaned her head back and looked up at the white ceiling. She wouldn’t need it for a very long time if she had any sense. Wouldn’t need it if she could remember she and lasting love didn’t mix.

  It galled. More so because the blame lay at her feet. Open mouth, insert foot. That’s what she’d done, despite knowing Sara needed the slow, the patient. Remembering that Suzette was around, she didn’t scream. She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.

  Not that screaming would take her back, let her think before she opened her big mouth. If not that, at the very least let her have said something simple like, “Thanks for being here,” or better yet, “Thanks for being a friend.” Everybody knew that one and it wasn’t the least bit threatening. Didn’t even whisper that she was looking for anything more.

  Mikaela glared at the alarm clock and sighed. Only a little after ten, but still maybe too late to call someone who had to be at work early. Just as well, because there was no point in calling Sara. If she said anything about what she’d said earlier, tried to backtrack, that would only give it more weight, dig the hole deeper.

  What she had to do was pull back to being strictly friends. She could smile, say hello. She could not linger and she could under no circumstances touch. Then and only then, could she eventually make Sara see she wasn’t trying to pull a U-Haul on her, wasn’t trying to pin her down, to make her share a little house and a little dog.

  * * *

  Mikaela arrived at her office building thirty minutes early the next morning. She wasn’t sure how to feel when Sara was nowhere to be seen. Maybe more upset than glad, she decided as she stepped into the elevator. She had spent her time on the treadmill practicing how not to flirt and only in Sara’s presence could she determine how well her time had been spent.

  So perhaps that meant a little loitering might be needed. She would go down around lunch time, walk around the building and…

  “Look like a total idiot,” she muttered. It was obviously time for another cup of coffee. Perhaps the caffeine would jolt some kind of sense into her.

  She downed half a cup and came to the conclusion that doing nothing was her best course of action. If she saw Sara, she did, and if she didn’t, she didn’t. Sara had her number. She’d call when she was ready and if she didn’t, well, Mikaela would have to drown her sorrows in chocolate and completely screw up her diet. Rules were rules.

  After finishing her coffee, she fixed another cup and returned to her desk. The request from Dennis for a meeting at nine fifteen shone like a beacon from hell. “Damn! Didn’t get enough blood yesterday?” If a new claim concerning her sexual activities had surfaced, she was going to hunt someone down and share a thing or t
wo. Maybe even three. Enough was enough.

  Taking a deep breath, she put her anger on simmer and tackled the mess that was Talya’s calendar. Now that the merger with Brannon’s old section was a certainty, schedules had to be rearranged. She took a great deal of pleasure in sending one of the first meeting notices to Christine. What she wouldn’t give to be there when Christine learned about Mikaela’s new role and responsibilities. If there was a higher being, she would be Christine’s new supervisor at least for a little while.

  Thirty minutes later, with Talya’s calendar in some semblance of order, she grabbed another cup of coffee, looked longingly at her now-depleted filing stash, then pulled up the Marco report. She deserved a medal for her dedication, she decided as she corrected sentence after sentence, page after page. Maybe even knighthood.

  She was questioning the author’s lineage when the sound of rapidly approaching heels attracted her attention. Before she had time to register who the footsteps belonged to, Christine was at her desk, her hands on her hips, her chest heaving. As usual, she was impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place.

  “You think you can order me around now?”

  “I didn’t order anything. That would be your new boss.” Mikaela pulled up Talya’s calendar, even though she knew what was on it. “It seems Talya’s not due until nine thirty this morning. No, wait, then she has another meeting after that. Looks like I could schedule you with her at eleven ten. Will you need more than five minutes to bitch? I believe I can get you ten at the outset.”

  “I will not accept this sort of attitude from you. I’ll schedule my own meeting with Talya and I will be discussing your behavior.”

  “Your choice, of course.” Her smile was sickly sweet. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” She didn’t have time to determine the strength of Christine’s glare before the other woman tossed her head and strode off. Someone needed to inform Christine she’d lost her crown with Brannon’s demise. Mikaela wished, wished, wished that duty would fall to her.