by KD Robichaux
“I can’t, Winston,” I repeat, my voice a whimper. “And I don’t think I can work here anymore. I’m… I’m going to be looking for a new job, because this is just… too painful.”
His face falls even more, the light going out of his eyes. His hands drop to his sides, and he just looks… defeated.
He doesn’t argue.
He looks so broken I have to force myself not to run up to him and tell him never mind. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, to hold my ground and stay strong in this moment.
When he finally speaks, there’s no life in his voice. “You have a job here as long as you need. I’ll work the opposite shift from you until you find somewhere else.”
All I can do is nod. And then I spin around, not even stopping as I grab my purse from beneath the bar and run out the back door.
23
Cece
It’s been weird the past couple of days, opening the restaurant and leaving before Winston arrives for the dinner shift. And while there’s a hole inside me that’s grown the longer I’ve gone without seeing him, I can’t help but enjoy the change of pace. I’m off in time to pick the girls up from school, take them home, cook dinner with Mom, help my kids with their homework…. It almost feels like my old routine with just a job during the day while they’re at school.
But in these couple of days, it’s been clear to see the cut in pay from working the lunch hours versus the dinner shift and bartending. I’m not making nearly as much in tips, and I know this situation is going to bite me in the ass and soon. I need to find a new job and quickly. Hopefully, now that I have at least Winston’s on my resume for experience, I won’t have to plead for someone to give me a chance. And I know both Win and Steph will give me a letter of recommendation, or whatever, for my next employer.
It’s Saturday, the day we should’ve been able to take the girls on a fun little getaway to a cabin in the mountains with their grandparents if Mike had allowed me to take them. Instead, after I got home from my lunch shift at the restaurant, Mom took us girls on a shopping trip. I tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she reminded me this was a family tradition. Anytime she and Chaz come to visit, she gets to spoil her girls and “make up for all the things she’d buy all of us if we lived nearby.” So I gave in and allowed her to restock my favorite Bath and Body Works shower gels and lotions. She got the twins several new pairs of jeans, since theirs were starting to look like they were waiting for a flood, and Ruby got a few new shirts with her favorite game characters on the front. Lola even sweet talked her into getting her a BTS poster for her room, which she immediately hangs as soon as we get home.
“Who’s the one with the earrings and pretty lips?” I ask from the bed as Lola tapes the last corner.
“That’s Jimin. He’s one of the main dancers, and he sings the highest notes in the songs,” she replies.
“He’s very good-looking. I think I’ll pick him as my… bias,” I tell her, and she turns wide eyes on me.
“You know what a bias is?” Her wide eyes and shocked set to her lips make me smile, and she gives me a dazzling grin.
My heart swells inside my chest, and I’d give anything to kiss Winston right now for giving me the opportunity to make my girl so excited.
“I do.” I play it cool. “And what abooout… the one with black hair, wearing blue? He’s a cutie.”
“Oh, that’s Jungkook. He’s good at everything, so they call him the Golden Maknae, since he’s the baby of the group. So it’s like saying he’s the golden child,” she explains, and I watch her closely as I see if I can blow her mind.
“I think I’ll pick him as my wrecker.”
Just as I hoped, the surprise is clearly evident as it takes over her whole form, and she jumps down from her chair and launches herself onto the bed in front of me. I laugh as she squeals, “You know what a wrecker is too?” She starts to giggle. “What’s your favorite song? Have you been listening to them without me?”
“I’ve heard a couple now, and I think I like ‘Idol’ the best so far,” I reply, remembering the name of the song Winston played in his car that was so catchy.
“Ohhh, that’s such a good one!” she replies excitedly, and as she starts to ramble off random facts about the band, their songs, and K-pop in general, it takes all my strength to keep my chin from wobbling as the tears sting my throat. I haven’t seen this much life in my baby since the day her dad moved out.
Her movements are animated, and as she hops down from the bed to run over to her dresser and mess with her tablet as she continues her chatter, I just take it all in, unbelievably grateful for this innocent, easy, happy moment.
There’s also a sense of guilt trying to work its way in through the cracks, shaming me when I remember I could’ve been sharing this with Lola all these months if I’d just taken the time to really listen to her talk about the band she’s felt so passionate about. How many times could I have brightened her mood when she was so clearly feeling down when she’d come home from spending time with Mike? How many times could I have lifted her spirits by having her show me one of her favorite songs when she seemed almost depressed?
But as my big girl finally finds what she’s looking for on the tablet, setting it up on her dresser so I can see it’s the music video for a song called ‘Dynamite,’ my guilt recedes, and all I focus on is the joy I see on Lola’s face as she shows me she’s memorized the disco dance that the guys do.
A couple hours later, after Mike picks the girls up, Chaz tells us he’s taking Mom and me out to eat. Mia has gone to Talon’s parents’ house to meet his family, so it’ll be just the three of us.
“I wanna try Winston’s! After all the times I’ve heard you go on and on about how great the food is, I’m excited to try it,” Mom says, and my heart sinks to my stomach. It’s dinnertime, so of course Win will be there. I haven’t actually laid eyes on him since the night I ran away from him, telling him I couldn’t be around him anymore because it was too painful.
But I also don’t want to have to explain to my parents why I don’t want to go to a restaurant after I’ve raved about it since I started working here. An excuse about wanting to eat something different for a change would just seem selfish, when they clearly want to try out Winston’s cooking, so I just suck it up and nod. Hopefully he’ll be too busy in the kitchen and won’t even know I’m there. Hopefully, I won’t have to see him at all.
Even though I’d give anything to not only see him, but kiss him, be engulfed in his strong, caring arms, tell him everything that’s been going on since the last time we spoke, thank him for the knowledge he gave me about my daughter’s favorite band and share how thrilled she was tonight before she left. She was a brand-new child, just from getting to spread her love of those guys and their music.
Minutes later, it feels weird to walk into the restaurant and not head to the back to clock in and get ready for a shift. I smile at Sandy, our hostess, and she sits us at a booth near my usual section. I’m hyperaware of the bar and the door behind it. Every time it swings open, my eyes are drawn, both hoping it’s Winston coming out so I can see his handsome face, and praying it’s not. I doubt I’ll even be able to eat very much I’m so tense.
“So what’s your favorite things on the menu?” Chaz asks as he opens his up across the table from me. And I’m reminded my favorite things Winston has cooked for me aren’t even on the menu. It was the chicken and dumplings he heated on his stove at his house for me when I was anxious for another reason. It was the lasagna he brought to my house when he wanted to check on me. It’s been several of the meals he’s sent me home with to feed my kids, Mia, and me. It makes my heart hurt even more that we can’t be together, that I don’t get to be with a man who cares so much about me and my family.
I clear my throat at the tightness there. “Um… the loaded nachos are really good. And the spaghetti is phenomenal,” I tell him.
“It’s such an eclectic mix of dishes. There’s no set cuisi
ne, is there?” he asks, amused.
I shake my head. “There’s something for everyone, no matter what a family or group might be craving.”
“Have you tried this vegetarian tour, hon?” my mom asks, and I nod, knowing she had to cut meat protein out a few years ago for health reasons.
“It’s very good. I’ve tried just about everything on the menu except for the seafood, since I’m allergic to shellfish. He has several cooktops, so he’s able to do a lot of different things without cross-contaminating. He even has one specifically for gluten intolerance,” I say, and at their silence, my eyes pull from the swinging door to my parents who are staring at me, and I realize my voice had gone a bit wistful.
“Seems like he thought of everything,” Chaz finally speaks, his eyes narrowing a little. “You okay, kid? You seem a little… down.”
I sit up in my seat and shake my head once more. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. I guess I just feel bad about the whole Mike thing.” I pull the excuse out of my ass, not wanting them to know anything about my feelings for my boss. It’s one thing for my sister to know. I don’t want to hear what my mom would have to say about me feeling any kind of way for a married man. “I just wish we could’ve taken the girls for the getaway is all. We haven’t had the time or the money to do anything fun since Mike moved out.”
“Maybe you could ask for a few days off in the middle of the week, and we could take a trip then,” Chaz suggests, but I’m already shaking my head.
“The girls would have to miss school, and I can’t afford to take any more days off.”
My mom must sense I’m getting frazzled, because she reaches across the table and pats my hand. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll figure out how to have lots of fun with the girls without having to go anywhere or miss work, all right? I get it. I remember that year we were on our own. But we made do. And I’d like to think we had some fun, even while I was working my tail off.”
I smile at that, remembering how much she changed once we got into our new apartment just the three of us. Picnic dinners in the middle of the living room floor while we watched chick flicks. Spa days, where we’d do each other’s nails and wore dollar-store face masks. Little arts and crafts projects that we’d make together using supplies she snuck home from work. We had a blast.
“We did, Mom.” I squeeze her hand back, feeling a little better.
At one point during dinner, Winston does finally make his way out the swinging door. God, has he gotten even more beautiful in the days since I saw him last, or is it just because I miss him so much? Is it just because I long for him so deeply, so badly? He steps over to the bar and grabs a bottle of red wine, his black T-shirt pulled tight across his chest, the short sleeves looking ready to rip as they hug his huge biceps. And as if he senses my presence, feels my eyes on him, his lift and lock on mine. He gives me a heartbreakingly sad smile with a little cautious wave, and I return the gesture with a pained smile of my own before forcing my eyes to my dinner. When I glance up again, he’s no longer there, and I breathe out a sigh.
When Bitsy comes to the table, the bill tray only has the little chocolate mints we give out at the end of dinner. There is no check. At my confused look, she smiles and tells us, “The head honcho said y’all’s meal was on the house and to tell you and your parents he hoped you enjoyed your dinner.”
My heart clenches inside my chest. So freaking thoughtful for the meal, and so damn considerate to send the message through our waitress, so he would still be following my wishes about keeping our distance. What would it be like being in a relationship with a man as caring as him, who puts my feelings and wants before his own?
I guess I’ll never know.
“Well that was sure sweet of your boss,” Mom says, grabbing her purse from the other side of Chaz, who still pulls out his wallet and tugs out a couple of bills to leave Bitsy a generous tip.
“Very kind,” Chaz agrees, and he scoots out of the booth as Mom stands.
“Yeah, he’s great,” I murmur softly, glancing toward the bar and the door that leads to the kitchen, now hoping to catch one last glimpse of Win before we leave, but he’s nowhere in sight as we head out the door.
I know something is wrong the minute we pull into my driveway.
My front door is wide open when we arrive, and I know damn well we closed and locked it before we left.
“What in the hell?” Chaz says low, unbuckling his seatbelt after putting the car in park but leaving the engine running. “Stay here,” he orders, and Mom reaches for his arm as he opens the driver side door.
“Honey, why don’t you call the police? What if someone is still inside?” she hisses quietly.
“I want to make sure it’s not one of the girls. What if they just ran in to grab something they forgot?” he prompts.
“Then Mike’s car would be here, Chaz. Don’t try to be a hero. Let us call the police,” I tell him, knowing he was a badass back in the day, but he’s getting a little older now, and I don’t want him to get hurt. For all we know, the person could still be in there, and they could have a weapon.
Finally, he sighs but nods, closing his door quietly and pulling out his phone. He dials 911, and when they answer, he tells the dispatcher, “We just pulled up to my daughter’s house, and the door is wide open. We’re sure we locked it before we left. There are no unidentified vehicles around.” He looks at me for confirmation, and when I look at the cars in my neighbors’ driveways, I shake my head to let him know none of them are unfamiliar. He gives them my address. “All right. We’ll stay outside. Thank you.”
They must tell him to stay on the line, because he doesn’t hang up.
It feels like forever, my heart rate frantic in my chest just sitting here, not knowing what happened inside my home. Did they take anything? Are we going to walk inside and my house is going to be cleaned out, no TVs, no laptop to do my schoolwork on, no CriCut to make the cute decorative signs that go on my wreath orders? Ten years of jewelry gifts I planned on selling as soon as I found the time. Surely they would’ve taken the mammoth-sized diamond ring Mike insisted I wear even though it got caught on everything.
Two patrol cars pull up without their sirens, when they pass by our car where we still sit inside, one of the policemen lifts a finger to his lips in a signal for us to stay put and quiet, and I see him and three other police officers draw their weapons before making their way up my front porch steps. They disappear inside, and that’s when Chaz hangs up with the dispatcher after telling them a quick thanks.
I don’t realize I’m trembling until my mom’s hand comes down on mine from where she sits in the front passenger seat. I glance away from the house to see she’s spun around in her seat so she can look at me.
“It’s going to be fine, baby. The girls are with Mike, and we’re safe with the policemen here. They’re going to check it all out, and everything will be okay,” she tells me calmly, and I nod, even as I feel like I want to scream there’s so much tension inside my body. And through all the anxiety, the one thing that keeps repeating over and over and over again is, I wish Winston was here. I need Winston.
What seems like hours later but is really only minutes, the officers return outside looking a lot more relaxed than they did going in, their weapons put away. One gestures that it’s safe to get out of the car, and I waste no time getting out of the back seat and rushing toward them.
“Is everything okay inside? Does it look like anything’s missing?” I’m still trembling and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
“Ma’am, I’m Officer Jameson. Are you the owner of the home?” he asks.
I nod, quick and shallow. “Yes, sir. And these are my parents here visiting from Montana,” I reply, gesturing to Chaz and Mom, who step up on either side of me.
“It was definitely a break in. We can’t tell if anything was taken, so we’ll need you to take a look around. But fair warning, it’s pretty bad in there,” he says with a grimace, and I feel my knees knock together.
Why? Why would something like this happen to me? Haven’t I been through enough in the past eight months?
We walk up the front steps, two officers leading the way while the other two make their way back to one of their vehicles, and the moment my eyes take in the front room, I immediately burst into tears.
I hear Mom cry out an “Oh!” and Chaz puts his arms around both of us.
Such violence. So much destruction. There isn’t a single thing that hasn’t been smashed and destroyed. The front room is the formal dining room, and my curio cabinet that one held the China Mike and I got as a wedding gift has been toppled over onto the dining table, and the eight chairs around it have been ripped to pieces. Stepping farther into the house past the foyer, I see the living room is just as bad. Nothing looks like it’s been taken, but everything looks like a bull was let loose inside my home. The TV looks like someone took a sledgehammer to it. They only clear space is my couch. Everything else has been pulled out of the entertainment center and broken and thrown all over the room.
Stepping farther, my kitchen, my beautiful kitchen, the heart of my home, where so many of my good memories with my baby girls were made, along with the bad one of Mike telling me about his affair, has been completely demolished.
“All the destruction is downstairs. It doesn’t look like they went upstairs, but if you could take a look to make sure nothing is missing….” Officer Jameson prompts, gesturing toward the stairs, and we head up there. He’s right though; nothing looks out of place. The girls always take their tablets with them to Mike’s place, so those wouldn’t be here anyway. I hurry back down the stairs, across the house, and up the flight to my master bedroom and see it’s untouched as well.
