by Tia Fielding
“They’re beautiful,” his dad broke the sudden silence. “They would certainly look a lot nicer than the old ones. I can see you actually wearing these,” he murmured.
Emil blinked rapidly to get his emotions under control but couldn’t help the tears.
“Y-yeah,” he said quietly, then swallowed against the feelings bubbling up in his chest.
“Why don’t you contact them and get two different ones for the two fingers you think need it the most. When we see if you like them and if they help, we’ll decide on getting more, okay?”
The expression on his dad’s face was gentle and kind as he held out the papers.
“No, you keep them. I have… I prefer the online version,” Emil said quickly, then swallowed hard and added, “Thank you.”
“Tell Mom I should be back home in time for dinner, okay?” He put the papers in his desk drawer and dug out his wallet from his back pocket and fished out a twenty. “Here, go get something to eat from the diner.”
It was way too much for a simple meal at the diner, as they both knew, but Emil didn’t say anything and neither did his dad. Emil took the money and thanked him, then left the office before they could get truly awkward.
His dad knew he’d likely been too nervous about the splints to have much appetite all morning. It was past lunchtime now, and the hunger he’d ignored suddenly bowled over him full force.
He said bye to Erin before heading toward what his dad called the diner. Tripod was a two-story building with a café/diner downstairs and a bar/restaurant upstairs. The name didn’t come from the multipurpose thing, but the owner’s love of photography.
Leah and her husband, Stuart, had bought the place when Emil was little, and they’d renovated the building so that the former apartment above the diner could host the rest of their businesses. Around the same time, the old tavern had burned down, and the old guy running it retired, so they got the bar business in town, too. They’d figured that a café would make tourists stop for a drink, and that was now advertised outside as well.
Since it was past lunchtime, the place was empty, except from Emil’s shrink, Evy, whom he should’ve anticipated finding there.
“Hey, Leah, can I get some blueberry pancakes with bacon, and a large latte?” Emil asked when he passed the counter.
“Sure, honey.” She smiled at him and continued to organize the rest of whatever she was organizing behind the counter, knowing that he wasn’t in a rush.
Evy was reading something, an actual book which she preferred over the electronic kind, and twirled one of her dreads around her fingers. She, much like her sister, was pale and blonde, and pretty damn beautiful. Evy’s dreads had multiple colors thrown in with the blonde, though, and she looked like a hippie in her tie-dyed clothes. No one would’ve ever guessed she was a licensed therapist if they didn’t know for sure, and for sure Emil knew, as she’d been his therapist for the last four years.
“Hey, Evy,” he said, stopping by her table.
She startled out of her story and blinked at him, then grinned. “Hey, Emil, wanna sit with me?”
“Only if you don’t mind.”
“Oh no, I want to save the rest of this story for home anyway,” she said and then tucked the book into her large beaded bag.
“Okay then.” Emil slid into the booth with her and placed his own bag next to himself.
“What’s up?” she asked and smiled at him radiantly.
If she hadn’t been his shrink, female, and a decade older, he would’ve been totally blown away by her, and he had no doubt he’d be pining away. She was pansexual, and her current girlfriend, a builder, was in Puerto Rico helping with the rebuilding.
“Well, I managed to go talk to Dad about the whole splint thing,” he said, attempting a casual tone.
Evy’s posture straightened in delighted surprise. “That’s… that’s wonderful, Emil!”
He ducked his head and felt a sudden rush of pride. Yeah, it hadn’t been easy.
“Hey, don’t try to diminish the accomplishment. You know we’ve worked on that pretty hard,” she scolded him playfully, but at the same time he knew she was completely serious.
He glanced at her and let her see his expression. “Yeah, thank you.”
“So, what did he say?” she asked and leaned back when Leah came to set down Emil’s drink and topped off her green tea. Emil was pretty sure Evy was the only one in town drinking it, yet it seemed like Leah always had a pot of it made for her.
“Thank you,” he told Leah.
“Just a couple of minutes with the pancakes, honey,” she said to Emil and walked back to the counter again.
“He said to order the two I need the most just to see how they are, and he… he understood, Evy.” He couldn’t help the fact that his voice got whispery at the end.
Evy’s hand twitched, and he knew she wanted to touch his but wouldn’t. Not when she knew it wasn’t easy for him to sit this close to her anyway, not when he could feel her feet by his and the swish of her skirt whenever she moved her legs.
“I’m glad, Emil. I really am,” she said quietly. “But let’s talk about this more on our next session, eh?”
Emil cleared his throat to get rid of the sudden choked-up feeling and sipped his latte, even if it was still a bit too hot. He nodded at her bag where she’d put the book. “What are you reading?”
“It’s a thriller. Some weird psychological shit, actually.”
“And you’re fact-checking it to see if they have done their research?” He made an educated guess.
“Exactly!” She grinned. “What are you listening to?”
His earbuds hung from the collar of his hoodie, so he wasn’t surprised by the question. Then again, she knew music was one of his coping mechanisms anyway.
“Well, the last song I had on was Portugal, The Man’s ‘Feel It Still.’”
“Nice one, I approve.” She nodded vigorously. Both of their tastes in music had widened significantly during the time they’d known each other. They swapped book and music recommendations and had a weird sort of almost-friendship going on that tiptoed around the line of professional conduct versus so not that.
Leah came to bring Emil his lunch, and he smiled at her again. “Thanks. Can I get a strawberry milkshake in a bit?”
“Sure, honey. I’ll keep an eye on when you’re done with that,” she said, nodding at his plate.
“Great!”
Once Leah was out of hearing range, Evy chuckled. “Someone’s feeling good today,” she teased ever so gently.
The problem with being friends with one’s therapist was the teasing, even though she knew to never overdo it.
“Yeah, yeah, shut your mouth, hippie,” Emil grumbled as he dug into his meal.
He had eating issues. He could admit that. There were days that he couldn’t really eat at all. One of the doctors he’d seen after—in the last five years—had even thought he might have anorexia. Spoiler alert: he didn’t. He just had severe trauma when it came to food, and his PTSD sometimes fucked things up for a while.
Today was a good day, so he’d take advantage of that. The thing with his issues was that he knew all about them and had learned to live with what hadn’t gone away completely. It wasn’t easy, but he was coping with the help of Evy, his parents—although they could be a bit stifling—and music. Well, and books, but that went without saying.
While Emil ate and ate, and then had his milkshake, he chatted with Evy about what was going on around town.
“Did your dad tell you about the new guy yet?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Not really, but I’m not deaf.”
Evy laughed. “Yeah, nobody is not talking about him.”
Emil snorted. Anyone moving into town was the Big Thing for a while, at least until they moved back out or someone else moved in. Or something huge happened in Mercer. None of those things were common enough to keep people from remembering what had happened to Emil. Frankly, if this n
ew guy took the weight of their gazes off Emil for a while, he wouldn’t mind at all.
“Apparently he’s hot,” Evy said out of the blue.
Emil blinked. “What?”
“Lotte met him, and he’s hot. In the way really big guys sometimes are,” she explained. “That was a direct quote, by the way. I like willowy men, I can’t even lie.”
Emil chuckled. “Yeah. Well, it doesn’t matter what he looks like, now does it?”
“How do you reckon?”
“Well, he’s a convicted criminal, even if he’s been found innocent and all that. He could be young Marlon Brando and people would still look at him funny.”
“Emil Newman, are you telling me that the townspeople can’t let go of the past?” Evy clutched her chest dramatically.
Emil snorted so hard he almost inhaled some of his milkshake.
AFTER THE incident when he was seventeen, Emil had dropped out of high school. He hadn’t been fit to go back for a while, and he’d ended up having his mom homeschool him, and then he’d gotten his GED last year. For now, he didn’t have any plans for a career.
He felt like he was mooching off his parents, but they insisted he stay living at home until he knew what he wanted to do next. He had some disability money coming in, and it was enough for him to save just a little bit each month so that he’d have something of his own whenever he moved out.
There just didn’t seem much chance for that, really. Not when his PTSD kicked in as soon as he had to be around more than a couple of people, especially if they were strangers. What he needed was an emotional support animal, but his mom was allergic to anything hairy, so that didn’t work so well.
In any case, the event that shall not be named had changed everything: Emil, his parents, his relationship with them, hell, the whole town of Acker.
In some ways he felt responsible. He felt guilty sometimes. But then Evy’s teachings of how he couldn’t control everything and how none of what had happened to him had been his own fault kicked in slowly but surely, and he’d be better.
Sighing, he stepped inside the house.
“Emil?” his mom called from the kitchen.
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me.” He kicked off his shoes and went to deliver Dad’s message.
“Oh, that’s nice. I have a pot roast in the slow cooker.” She beamed at him, then remembered he had trouble with red meat sometimes and deflated.
“It’s okay. I had lunch at the diner, and I’m so full. Might be a sandwiches kind of dinner for me later,” he tried to lessen her disappointment, because it was never directed at Emil but herself.
She looked at him skeptically, her decidedly Scandinavian features pinching for a moment.
“Hey, call Evy. She was at the diner if you don’t believe me,” he threw over his shoulder. She opened her mouth to reply, but he walked away before she could form words.
And that there was their relationship in a nutshell.
Both his parents had had therapy too. Dad because it was work mandated, and then some extra because… well, he’d blamed himself. Which, if Emil was fair, he could understand.
He logged into his computer and put on some music to calm himself. He didn’t get panic attacks much anymore. It was more like zoning out and freezing totally in different situations, or sometimes curling up in a ball somewhere if he’d been truly spooked.
His phone pinged, and a message came through from Lotte. Smiling, he muted the music and then called her.
“Hey, of course I can watch Joie,” he said immediately.
Lotte exhaled with relief. “Thank fucking God. If you feel up for it, there might be more of that this summer. There’s a chance I’ll get extra hours at the diner if I’m free.”
“We’ll see. You know I love Joie. I can’t make long-term promises, there are still bad mornings and all that, but I think my mom would love to have a kid around the house if I couldn’t watch them.” Before Lotte could object, Emil hastened to add, “Like if we’ve made a deal for a day and I feel bad when the day comes, that’s what I meant. Honestly, I have nothing else to do, as I’m taking the summer off studying.”
“Okay, we’ll figure it out. But starting on Wednesday afternoon?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there at… midday?” He flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
“Sounds great. Do you need a ride?”
“Nope, I’ll take Mom’s car, or if she needs it, she can give me a ride.”
“Okay, thank you so much, Emil. See you!”
“Tell Joie to figure out what they want to do on Wednesday, and see you then!”
He ended the call, still smiling. Being friends with Lotte was nice. Joie was a great kid, and in some ways, Emil was happy they had people in the LGBTQ+ community there while they were growing up.
Emil was pretty sure his childhood would’ve been nicer if there had been more variety in genders and sexual orientations in town back then. Sadly, there hadn’t really been anyone to look up to, but at least there’d been internet. Geez, he couldn’t even imagine growing up in the preinternet era.
Feeling tired, he unmuted the music through his cell phone’s Spotify and adjusted the volume. Next, he set an alarm to make sure he wouldn’t sleep too long now. He needed to get some hours tonight, so he could make sure that his brain at least tried to follow a more regular sleep cycle. Maybe he could make tomorrow an early night, too, and maybe, just maybe he’d have the brain on Wednesday to deal with as intelligent and inquisitive child as Joie.
Then he curled up on his bed, his extra pillow against his chest, and closed his eyes. Nap time.
Chapter Three
MAKAI PARKED his car in front of the grocery store and steeled himself. A guy leaned on a pickup nearby, and he had been eyeing Makai’s car as if he’d just seen something disgusting. Makai had felt the stare all the way from the road and knew this wouldn’t be good.
Sighing, Makai stepped out of his vehicle. The bell above the store door made a sound, and both he and the guy turned to look.
An old man who must’ve been Mr. Miller peeked out.
“If you don’t have anything to buy or mail, Frankie Matthews, you should hop into that truck of yours and go home,” Mr. Miller rasped, then waited until Matthews did just that. Once the pickup peeled out of the parking lot, he looked at Makai. “You’re Benny Elfman’s little boy, aren’t you?”
Makai blinked, then nodded slowly. “Y-yeah, Benny was my grandpa.”
“You’re the younger boy, right?” Mr. Miller asked, as he gestured for Makai to follow him into the store.
“Right. My name is Makai.”
“I remember you and your brother. You used to come here when you were little.”
“Really?” Makai looked around the store and couldn’t really remember being there back then.
Mr. Miller cackled. “Come, follow me. It’ll make sense soon.”
It felt like being the unlikely hero in a fantasy novel who followed the wizened old wizard into a secret spot somewhere. Yeah, he’d read a lot of fantasy in his teens, so sue him.
He followed the old man, feeling awkward adjusting his own steps to Mr. Miller’s short, slow ones. They went to the side of the shop, then through a door there, to what seemed to be the post-office part of the building.
Mr. Miller stopped in the middle of the space, then looked at Makai. “This look more familiar?”
He turned around in the middle of the room and suddenly it all clicked. The windows were familiar, and even though the counter was a different color, the curve of it seemed familiar too.
He found himself smiling. “You had candy there.” He pointed at a spot, then to another one by the back wall. “And ice cream was there.” He could all but feel Nakoa’s slightly bigger hand in his own as they waited for their treats.
Mr. Miller chuckled, shaking his frail form that Makai suspected was tougher than it seemed.
“Yes, we did.”
“Wow,” Makai breathed. “I think I was four
or five the last time I stood here.”
“I reckon so,” Mr. Miller said. He went to the door between the post office and store, peeked his head through, and bellowed. “Momma, I’m taking a break!”
Mrs. Miller, Makai assumed, called back something he couldn’t decipher.
“Come on, coffee time,” Mr. Miller told him and gestured for him to follow.
They ended up going through to the back of the building and into what seemed like a small apartment where the Millers must’ve lived.
“Sit, sit,” Mr. Miller said in the kitchen, and Makai did.
Silence, but not really an uncomfortable one, reigned while Mr. Miller fiddled with what seemed like one of those pod coffee maker things Makai hadn’t really gotten the hang of, even though his mom had one.
“I hope you like lattes, because it seems like we’ve run out of espresso capsules,” he said in a quiet old-man tone.
“Latte’s good.” Makai still wasn’t sure why he sat there, but he wasn’t about to question the friendliness.
From how that deputy had described Mr. Miller, he had expected much, much worse.
“All right, here you go,” Mr. Miller said, and he toddled over to the table with two large cups.
“Thank you.”
The old man looked at Makai thoughtfully, as if measuring him somehow. “You didn’t do what they convicted you for, did you?” he asked slowly.
Makai felt like there was enormous weight in this question and that the man would somehow know if he was lying, not that he had any reason to do that. “No, sir, I didn’t do it.”
Mr. Miller hummed thoughtfully. “Couldn’t have been easy. At any point, I mean.”
Makai sighed and shook his head minutely. He’d rather not think about any of that stuff.
“If you don’t mind me asking, I’ve not read any of the news I’m sure I could find if I went on the internet, so… a recap maybe? Just so I know what’s bullshit and what’s not when I hear people gossip.” Then he seemed to rethink his words and frowned. “Of course, I won’t go telling tales myself or tell anyone anything you say here. Not my business. But I can curb some of the wildest of the rumors.”
