“Thank you, Rachel.” He handed her his cash. “I don’t suppose you’re going on break soon?”
“No, but if it stays slow I might.”
“No offense, but you look like you need it.”
“Heh. Seriously.” She handed him his change and watched him walk to his table as she considered his question. Was that an invitation? Or just friendly concern since I look like crap?
She served a few more customers, then went to the back to do some office work when Brian came on shift. But she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t shake the fog that hampered her common sense, and finally just gave up.
She told herself it wasn’t specifically Declan that she wanted to talk with, but just that she was frustrated and wanted to vent to someone. She told herself that, if Jack were on shift, she’d want to talk to him instead. How worried should I be that I’m lying to myself now?
She wandered back out to the front, saw that Brian was serving the only customer currently at the register, and decided that taking a break would not be a bad idea.
“Your timing is impeccable,” Declan said with a smile.
“Tertullian again?”
“No, Kierkegaard. Different class.” He stood and pulled out a chair for her. “Can you sit a while?”
“A few minutes, sure.” She sat down and glanced at his textbook. “So what class is it?”
“Philosophy 301. I’m not doing very well.”
“I won’t keep you from studying for too long, then.”
“I’d much rather talk than read. I’m far more relational than I am academic.”
“Well, I’m not the most relational person these days, so don’t get your hopes up too much.”
He shoved his books aside and folded his arms on the table, bringing himself close enough that she could smell the cologne he wore. “And why is that?”
She batted away the answer with a half-hearted wave of her hand. “You don’t want to hear a virtual stranger venting her issues.”
“Sure I do! I’m relational, remember? Talking with people and helping them process their problems is one of my favorite things to do.”
“Well, processing is not my strong suit these days, so I suppose I’d be an idiot to turn down an offer.” She took a deep breath, rubbed a hand nervously against her arm as though cold. “I feel like my life is falling apart.” Way to be blunt. “Every single important relationship in my life is broken in one way or another. Some of it is my fault, some of it isn’t, some of it is just … mutual dysfunction, I suppose. But the whole reason I came out here from California is because all my important relationships out there fell apart too. I’m starting to feel cursed. Or maybe I’m just the common denominator.” Her embarrassment at baring her soul to someone she barely knew was overshadowed by her need to unburden herself and be heard by someone outside of all her problems. “I can’t shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen, like I’m on the edge of a cliff but can’t see over the edge to tell how far down it is. There’s a constant shadow over me.” Her voice began to quaver, and she swiped away tears that formed on her lashes. Oh please do not start crying in front of him. “I don’t know who to go to for advice anymore. Everyone’s way of thinking is so different from how I was raised to think. But I don’t know anymore what I think about the way I used to think.” She chuckled and used the levity as an opportunity to compose herself. “Am I making any sense at all?”
“Aye, I follow you.”
She kept talking, spilling her fears about Daphne, her trepidation about her relationship with Jack, her disappointment with her parents. She even told him about how God seemed to disappear when she needed him most. It wasn’t until the door opened and a stream of customers entered that she realized how long she’d rambled on—yet again. Mortified, she dragged a napkin down her cheeks to dry them and dashed back behind the counter. When the crowd dissipated, she debated hiding in the back room until Declan left, but had a feeling he wouldn’t until they’d spoken again. Humiliated by her self-absorbed tirade, she slunk back to the table to apologize.
“Nonsense,” he said, giving her the warm smile that made her tingle. But the smile faded quickly. “I’m sorry to hear you’re so distressed. I’d like to pray for you, if I could.”
“You did hear me say that I’m not really sure I believe in God right now, right?”
He grinned with a twinkle in his eye. “I did. But I still believe in him. May I?”
She shrugged, both uncomfortable with the idea and secretly thrilled that he cared enough to want to. “I guess so. Knock yourself out.”
He closed his eyes. “Father God—”
“Wait a minute—you’re going to pray aloud, right now?”
He opened his eyes. “Did I not just say that?”
“I thought you were going to do it in your head. You know, another time.” Rachel had prayed aloud for countless of her youth group students, but she felt awkward being on the receiving end.
He tipped his head, considering. “I suppose I could. Might not do you as much good.”
She frowned. “What—you think God grants prayers better when they’re prayed out loud?”
He chuckled. “No, of course not. But hearing what someone prays for you can be a powerful thing. Sometimes just knowing what someone is praying for you can be an encouragement, even if God doesn’t choose to answer the prayer the way you’d hoped.”
She glanced around. Brian was engaged in cleaning the sandwich station. The shop wasn’t very full; the nearest customer was at least ten feet away. “Well … okay, fine. Just keep it down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smirked as he closed his eyes. She kept hers open, on the lookout. She listened as Declan prayed, asking God for peace and comfort, wisdom and grace, an end to the depression she was suffering from and healing in her relationships. The words weren’t fancy, the prayer was mercifully brief, and she had no confidence at all that God would hear and even care. But she grudgingly admitted in her heart that Declan had been right—hearing him pray on her behalf softened her mood a little. Not much, but enough to let hope get the smallest of toeholds.
He finished with “amen,” then opened his eyes and smiled. “Did you survive?”
She chuckled. “Yes, thank you.”
“Pleasure. I’m honored you felt comfortable enough with me to tell me all that you did. And you needn’t worry; I may not be a pastor, but I still won’t go blabbing your personal struggles to anyone.”
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was a text from Jack, which reminded her again that she’d spent too much time talking with Declan and needed to start working on her end-of-the-day duties. “I need to get going. Thanks again, Declan. I really do appreciate you letting me just talk.”
“You’re welcome, Rachel. Anytime—and I mean that.”
She knew he did, and she knew it wasn’t a good sign that she was so pleased to hear it.
She went back to the office and read the text from Jack. Go out 2nite? Can pick u up from work. She tapped out an answer, feeling guilty as she did. Bad day. Just want 2 sleep. Thx tho. CU 2moro. XOX. She knew that if tonight was anything like her nights had been for the last month, she wouldn’t actually do a lot of sleeping. But still, she looked forward to crawling into bed because for once she was just going to let herself do what she’d wanted to do for a while now: daydream about Declan. She was too tired to fight it, and if it brought her some comfort, then it would be worth it. She wouldn’t even let herself feel guilty about it.
At least, she hoped she wouldn’t.
o
When Declan walked into the café the next afternoon, Rachel had to work to convince herself he wasn’t there to see her. He likes the coffee. It’s a great place to study. Who knows, maybe he’s just a really big Beatles fan.
She wasn’t working the counter when he came in, just restocking the to-go selections in the deli case. She knew Jack would be coming in any minute for his shift, and she didn’t want him to see her talk
ing with Declan because she knew he would take it the wrong way and get jealous. Though technically he would be taking it the right way. Rachel knew that, in truth, he did have a reason to be jealous.
She tried to look preoccupied in her work, but there was only so much brain power necessary to stock sandwiches and yogurt. Declan took a seat at the table closest to her. “Feeling any better this morning?”
“I did sleep a little better,” she said. “Thanks.” She smiled and found it didn’t feel as forced as it usually did these days.
“Glad to hear that,” he said. He sounded genuine, and she almost wished he’d stop being so caring. “I’m still praying for you, just so you know. Not out loud,” he said, eyes twinkling, “but praying nonetheless.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” She saw Jack emerge from the back and picked up her work pace, trying to offer subtle hints to Declan that she wasn’t available to talk. “Good luck studying today.”
He chuckled. “Thanks. I need all the help I can get.” He gently grabbed her wrist as she began to walk away. “And hey, I wanted to say something about this last night, but I didn’t.”
Her breath caught in her throat, anticipating the confession of attraction that would complicate her life even more but would make her so happy.
“I guess I just wanted to say that depression isn’t something to just grin and bear through. Regardless of whether or not God chooses to heal you, maybe you could find a therapist, or at least talk to a doctor. I’ve seen depression get pretty rough for people—it’ll steal your life away before you know it.”
Just as she was about to respond, Jack was right there and she knew he had heard what Declan had said. To Rachel’s further embarrassment, he looked plainly annoyed that she and Declan had been talking. “Hey, babe,” he said slowly. He looked to Declan. “It’s Declan, right?”
“Aye, nice to see you again—Jack, right?”
“Right.” He looked to Rachel. “Just wanted to come say hi,” he said quietly. “But I’ll leave you two to talk.”
“Oh, we were done,” she said quickly. “Enjoy your coffee, Declan.” She allowed herself a brief smile in his direction before retreating to the back room. Jack was needed at the counter, so she was safe in the office. She popped the sports top on her water bottle and took a few sips, then at an Altoid. She then ate an Altoid as she settled in to get some work done. Ruby Jean wanted to revamp the All Together Now website and had asked Rachel to take a stab at the content. She’d been tackling it on and off all day since coming in for her shift, and she still had only one paragraph to show for her time. She typed a sentence, deleted it, typed another one, then stared unseeing at the computer screen for untold minutes as she mentally flogged herself for thinking Declan might like her. When a knock sounded on the door she nearly jumped out of her chair. “Come in.”
The door opened and Jack leaned in. “Got a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.”
He closed the door and sat on the other office chair. “You’re depressed?”
Embarrassment burned in her cheeks. “I … I don’t know. I think maybe Declan overreacted to what I told him—”
“What did you tell him?”
She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. Her gaze settled on Ruby Jean’s small Asian tapestry that hung behind him on the wall. “I don’t remember, exactly,” she said, which was mostly true. Jack’s sigh told her everything she had been afraid he’d think. “Look, it’s not what you’re thinking,” she said, forcing herself to meet his stare so he wouldn’t think she was lying. “Nothing is going on with him. He’s just a nice guy who likes to chat, that’s it. There’s no reason to be jealous.”
Jack slowly shook his head. “He may just be some nice guy, but it’s clear you’ve been more open with him than you have been with me. So don’t tell me I have no reason to be jealous.”
“Look, Jack—”
“I don’t want to get into this here—it’s not right, we’re both on the clock.” He stood and went to the door. “Tell me one thing, though,” he said as he opened it. “You’ve never said a thing to me about being sad, much less depressed. Why? Why did you tell some guy you barely know and not your boyfriend?”
She had an answer, but there was no way she could give it, not at work when she had no time to try to soften the blow. “I don’t know,” she said. The words sounded as hollow as her heart felt. She hoped he didn’t hear them that way.
His shoulders dropped, along with his eyes. “I think you do.” He shut the door behind him.
Chapter 17
It had been a long four days. Rachel and Jack danced around each other at work, interacting when necessary but never getting personal beyond the polite, “How are you today?” When she wasn’t at the café she was in her room trying (usually unsuccessfully) to get lost in a book, or watching mindless TV to try to drown out the noise in her head. She avoided Daphne as much as possible, and Daphne was apparently doing the same. She was going through the motions of work, sleep, and eat, while slowly sinking deeper into an inescapable pit of despair.
She came home Thursday night with a headache, wanting nothing more than to make the fastest, easiest dinner possible and then go to bed. As she headed up the stairs, she noticed the motion-activated porch light wasn’t working. She waved her hand in front of it to no avail, then let herself into the apartment.
All the lights were out. She flicked the switch next to the door, waiting for the ceiling light to come on, but nothing happened. She looked around the living room and kitchen for signs that the power was on but found none. The digital clock on the microwave was out, as was the little red light on the DVD player. She switched on the lamp beside the sofa. No luck.
“What on earth?” she said aloud, moving into her bedroom. Her clock glowed, but there was a backup battery in it. She turned on her computer to check the battery, then took a peek in Daphne’s room, which yielded nothing different.
She sat in front of her computer as it booted up, then realized she couldn’t get online—the modem had no power. Groaning, she called the electric company’s outage line, which provided troubleshooting tips after stating there was no known outage in her area. “Blown fuse” was the only possibility that made sense.
She went back to the kitchen and rummaged through the junk drawer until she found a flashlight, then set about finding the fuse box. She finally located it in the closet with the water heater, but when she opened it up, nothing looked amiss. Tossing the flashlight on the couch, she steeled herself for her first visit to the marijuana-dealing neighbors downstairs.
She was halfway down when she caught a glimpse in the neighbors’ window—and saw a lit lamp. She frowned, descended a few more steps to get a better look. Yes, the bottom floor was well lit, as was every other house around them. Their flat was the only one that was dark.
She ascended the stairs again, frustration growing. There was only one reason this would be happening. The bill hadn’t been paid.
Where is Daphne!?
She opened the fridge and moved as many items into the freezer as possible to help keep things cold, then made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and tried to call Daphne’s cell. It went straight to voice-mail. Her frustration morphed to anger as she ate, then did her dishes, then fixed a drink, and then another. By ten-thirty she was exhausted, irate, and ready to make good on her threat to move out.
She heard Daphne’s feet on the stairs at nearly eleven. She barely let her get the door closed before she started in on her. “When did you pay the power bill?”
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Daphne flipped the switch, then flipped it again.
“Take a wild guess.”
“I don’t know why—” Daphne’s indignation was just a second too slow in coming.
“I checked my checkbook,” Rachel said. “I wrote out my half of the bill two weeks ago. Why didn’t you pay it?”
“I did pay it.”
“Then why did they shut off
our power?”
“It must be something else. Like the circuit breaker.”
“Checked it already.”
“Maybe the folks downstairs—”
“They’re just fine, Daphne, and you know it.”
“I’m sure it’s just a mistake.”
Rachel laughed. “A mistake? Like, someone accidentally elbowed the switch that keeps us on? Tripped on the plug, ripped it out of the generator? Right, Daphne, it’s just a big mistake.” Rachel slammed her glass on the counter. “Get me our account number. I’ll take care of it.”
“What?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“No—I’ll do it.”
“Forget it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t trust you anymore.”
Daphne fell silent, then finally spoke after a long glare at Rachel. “Fine.”
Rachel called the payment line and keyed in their account number. The account history listed payments of half the amount owed being deposited late for the last four months. The outstanding balance was nearly three hundred dollars. She groaned as she entered her credit card number. How long until our power is back on?
She went to Daphne’s bedroom and opened the door without knocking, then threw the bill inside. “Three hundred bucks, Daphne.” She slammed the door and retreated to her bedroom, where she locked her own door and went straight to bed.
o
It was like a warped sense of déjà-vu. Rachel stood in the shower, waiting for the hot water to start running. No matter how far she turned the lever, nothing but cold water came out.
Do I have “sucker” written on my forehead? Or has Daphne seriously lost her mind?
She put on her robe and rapped twice on Daphne’s door to announce herself, then entered uninvited. “Really, Daphne? The gas, too?” Daphne rolled over and clamped a pillow to her head. “Unbelievable, Daph. What is going on with you?” Rachel began rummaging through the clutter on Daphne’s desk.
Reinventing Rachel Page 21
