Night shifts black

Day Five.

 

 

“Callie.”

I want to hug him. I actually start to rise from my chair to begin the embrace and catch myself.

“Luke.”

He sighs and drops to the seat across from me. “I’m sorry.”

“For disappearing for a week without a word, or giving me a heart attack?”

“You were worried about me? You shouldn’t worry about me.”

“Of course I was! You didn’t exactly leave in a calm state. Then, nothing for days. What am I supposed to think?”

“Like I said, you really shouldn’t worry about me. You can’t, ok?”

Says the most biased judge in the history of verdicts.

And yes, I catch the disturbingly cryptic nature of his warning, but it’s a dangerous sentence. I can’t deal with that right now.

“Next time, can you at least text me or something?”

“I don’t have your number.”

“You could.”

He nods, but doesn’t ask for it. I try not to be hurt.

“I’m just saying that we were all worried about you.”

“I’m still confused by that. Why would you be worried?”

I really don’t have a good answer. I mean, I have answers, they’d just sound crazy out loud. He’s a stranger. He’s asked for nothing. I owe him nothing. He owes me even less. Why would I be worried? Because he’s more important to me than he should be? That’s not an answer. That’s my problem, not his.

“We just were.” And that was even worse than an answer.

“Really. It’s my turn to go out on a limb and guess that by ‘we’ you mean ‘you.’ I can’t imagine anyone else here cared that I didn’t come in for breakfast.”

“And what if it does?”

“Now I have to check in with the Jemma’s Café patrons every time I do anything?”

He’s trying to sound playful. He’s not even close.

“No, of course not, but a week? Last time I saw you, you were so upset you stormed off. How am I supposed to know how you fared after that?”

He doesn’t respond at first, and somehow I know what he’s thinking. Why is he even here? I’m nobody, and now I’m a nobody who nags him. I hate being a nobody who nags him. I’m more than that. He’s more than that. We’re so much more than that.

“Well, I fared fine. I went home and cooled off. Then did some traveling. Now, I’m back.”

I have to stop nagging. I force away what’s left of it. “Traveling? Where to?”

Darryn arrives, and I’m not sure if his timing is perfect or terrible. “Morning, guys. Tea? Coffee?”

We thank him.

“Houston.”

“Texas?”

He gives me a look. “Yes. Houston, Texas.”

Ok, it was a dumb question. “What’s in Houston?”

“Family.”

I nod. “So is that where you’re from in the States?”

He looks away and shakes his head. “Kind of. She was.”

It’s her family.

My stomach actually begins to constrict a little. We both look at his ring. I want to touch it. To trace the intricate etchings in some absurd attempt to soothe the pain.

“What about you? Shelteron, huh?”

I sigh. “Yeah. Shelteron. I have family there. My dad, anyway. We haven’t seen my mom in over ten years.”

“She took off?”

I nod. “New boyfriend, new life.”

“And your dad?”

“New girlfriend, same life.”

“And yet, you’re here.”

I’m not as terrified of my own history as he is of his, but it still isn’t my favorite topic.

“I am. New girlfriend isn’t a gem, which is why she’s perfect for my dad.”

He understands, and I notice the change in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “Anyway, there was never anything major. It just didn’t make sense for me to stick around once I didn’t have to.”

“Still, it’s admirable that you are able to live independently as a writer.”

“It’s not all that impressive.”

“Sure it is. It can take years to generate enough income in that profession to survive alone, especially here, and you’re doing it at twenty-three.”

Not exactly. I clear my throat and look away. I know the second he says those words that I’ll regret letting him admire me for a lie, so I can’t let this go.

“Actually, I don’t make enough to survive. The reason I could leave Shelteron was because of an insurance settlement.”

“Insurance settlement?”

“Yeah.” I still can’t look at him, even though I feel him studying every inch of me. “But no personal stuff, right?” I remind him quickly, trying to smile to lighten the comment. I hate closing a door, but I can’t go there. Not yet. If anyone would understand that…

He does. “Sorry, no you’re right. It just seemed like maybe you wanted to talk about it.”

It probably did. And maybe that was even true until it started coming out. That story isn’t an out-loud story.

“I know. I only brought it up because I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression. I didn’t want to lie to you.”

“You weren’t lying. Having secrets isn’t lying.”

“Sometimes not. Sometimes it is.”

It’s his turn to look away and I wonder which part of this conversation is causing the problem.

Darryn brings our drinks, but we both decide to pass on food today. I’m not surprised given our rocky start to the conversation. Neither of us wants to commit to a long encounter right now.

We don’t talk for a while after Darryn leaves. Luke is meticulous about opening the creamer cup and mixing its contents with his coffee. He’s painfully thorough. I doubt there is a single drop of creamer that isn’t transferred and completely dissolved into his cup. He wasn’t so meticulous the last time he had coffee with me. To be fair, my teacup suddenly doesn’t seem to sit quite right on the saucer, and I adjust it in an endless loop of futility.

It’s then that I notice the four girls whispering several booths away. I wonder if they recognize Luke as the chair-watcher, or just as a good-looking guy with an average woman who’s clearly beneath him. My interest is piqued when one of them is pushed from her seat by the others, and it becomes apparent I’m about to learn the answer to my question.

She stops a few times during her approach, glancing back at her friends whose whispers and silent giggles have reached what seems like a feverish pitch to me, but hasn’t fazed Luke. His back is to them. He hasn’t even turned to take a peek at the commotion. I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed the direct attention when I can’t focus on anything else.

The girl continues to move forward, and I’m startled to catch a glimpse of a pen. I can’t make out the contents of her other hand, but suddenly, my blood runs cold at the prospect of what I’m about to witness. I glance back at Luke and am also surprised by his clenched jaw. I thought he hadn’t noticed the girls, but it turns out I just hadn’t noticed him enough.

“Hi. Um…I’m sorry to bother you. You’re from NSB, right? Ok, wow…can you sign this? Please? My sister will die. She loves you guys!”

I stay calm, suddenly losing sight of everything around me except Luke’s face. I watch him react, instinctively, a new smile I haven’t seen yet crossing his features. It’s not the fake one he uses for Darryn, or the weak one I get when he’s trying to be nice but can’t. It’s definitely not the real one I’ve captured a few times that turns his entire face into a work of art. This one is some combination of all three. It’s his stage smile, and it fascinates me.

“Sure. What’s her name?”

The girl nearly shrieks with excitement and shoves the pen at him along with what I can now see is a carwash flyer.

“Um, Li

She hovers inches from him, watching each stroke of the pen. Probably breathing in his aftershave, his shampoo. Maybe even getting a bit of the leather jacket brushing against her hip. She’d definitely be able to feel the heat of his body. She’s now been closer to him than I have, and I’m forced to fight off the sudden absurd stab of jealousy.