“Say hi,” Tori encourages, as Bailey raises her chubby arm and waves at me before pointing, pressing her finger against the screen and saying, “Wy-Wy.”
“That’s right. It’s Ry-Ry,” she says to Bailey.
“Give Ry-Ry kisses,” I tell her.
Perking her lips, she gives me an exaggerated, “Muah.”
“Muah,” I give her back in return.
“Are you coming for Thanksgiving?” Connor asks when he walks up, standing next to Tori and Bailey.
“Yeah, buddy, I am. Promise! I miss you guys so much, you know that?”
“I miss you too,” he says.
“Well, I’m gonna let you guys go. Make sure you get a ton of candy. Be good for your mommy and daddy, okay?”
“Yay! Can we go trick-or-treating now, Mommy?” Connor asks with way too much energy, and I have no clue how Tori and Trevor are gonna get through Halloween without the aid of alcohol.
“Yes, we can go. Say bye to your uncle.”
“Bye, Uncle Ryan,” he shouts before running off.
“Say bye-bye,” Tori tells Bailey.
Waving her hand again, she says, “Bye-bye.”
“Bye, sweetie,” I tell her.
“We gotta go before Connor drives me crazy,” I hear Trevor, Tori’s husband, say as he walks up.
“Okay,” she responds.
“Hey, Ryan. What’s up?” Trevor says into the phone.
“Not much. Looks like you have your hands full.”
“You have no idea. Get your ass here and help us out,” he jokes.
“Soon, man. You guys have fun tonight.”
“Same to you. Bye.”
“Bye,” Tori adds.
“Take it easy, guys,” I say before disconnecting the call.
I take the next half hour to call my other two cousins and check in with their kids. Envy starts to move slowly inside of me, and before I let the feeling take over, I go upstairs to my room, blast some music, and hop in the shower. It’s gonna be a busy night at work, and I don’t need to be in a funk. I love my family, but the idea of having my own worries me. What I grew up with was far from perfect. I’ve never had to take care of anyone other than myself, aside from my mom. But she’s a strong woman, always has been. I don’t really know what it means to provide for someone else emotionally. Even if I did, I doubt I would be capable of it. I live a selfish life. I only take care of myself, and at times, I feel like I do a shitty job of it.
After my shower, I grab a bite to eat and watch a little TV. I find myself focusing on the rain outside rather than the show that’s playing. It’s pouring as I stare out the solid wall of windows. I’ve always loved the weather here, never getting tired of the constant rain.
My phone rings, and when I look at the screen, I see Max’s name.
“What’s up?” I say when I answer.
“When are you getting here?”
“What time is it?”
“Almost ten. We’re already at capacity, and I feel like shit,” he complains.
“I’m leaving now,” I tell him as I drag myself off the couch and start heading out.
I walk out to my black Rubicon and decide to grab a coffee before I go to the bar. It’s gonna be a late night, and Mel sucks at making coffee. I drive around the corner and spot a coffee shop right off campus. Not that hard to do since there are coffee shops on every street corner.
Throwing the car in park, I step out into the heavy rain. I keep my head down as I walk to the door, getting soaked. When I go inside, my phone buzzes with a text from Jase. He’s asking when I’m heading in, and I’m distracted when I walk up to the counter.
I briefly notice a girl sitting on a stool behind the register, reading a textbook, studying. She sees me and hops up as I turn my attention to the drink menu on the wall.
“Hey, what can I get for you?” she asks softly.
Still looking at the drinks, I settle on my usual. “Uh, just a twenty coffee. Black,” I tell her when I start typing my text back to Jase.
“Easy enough.”
On my way now. Give me 15min. Busy?
Insane.
“That’s one ninety-three,” she says as I shove my cell into my pocket.
Pulling out my wallet, I hand over a five. Finally, not distracted, I look at her. I think I know this girl ‘cause something about her seems familiar. I stare, trying to pinpoint who she is, but she’s so different from any girl I would ever go for, so I’m just confused. She has a small frame, can’t be much taller than five feet. Her hair is a deep brown like mine, and it’s pulled up, messy, on top of her head.
“Everything okay?” she asks, catching me staring, as she hands me my change. This girl has me so caught off guard that I don’t even realize I haven’t responded when she questions, “Anything else?”
The small features of her face, aside from her large hazel eyes, seem more delicate with her fair, almost porcelain-like skin. Not my usual type, but God she’s pretty.
“Um, no. No, that’s all,” I say like an idiot, and I can tell I’m freaking her out when she nervously takes a step back and stumbles into her stool.
I turn to leave before I say anything else that makes me look any more like a moron, but dammit if I can’t help turning to look at her a couple more times before I leave. As soon as I step out in the rain, it hits me.
“God, please! Stop!”
Snapping my head back to get another look at her through the rain-covered window, I feel my heart begin to pound. Her back is to me, so I can’t see her face. No. It can’t possibly be her. What are the chances? There’s no way. Fuck, my head is really playing with me tonight. I get into my jeep and start driving. My mind is consumed with crazy thoughts that I need to dispel because none of them make sense to me.
She’s tiny . . . just like the girl from that night. But her face . . . there’s no way I could even make a comparison because that girl’s face was so badly beaten and covered in blood. There’s no way to know what she really looked like.
All I can think about is that night in the very alley I just pulled into and parked. I get out of my car and walk over to the dumpster, to the spot I found her. I rack my brain, but there are no real details I have to link these two girls.
The images flood through me. My stomach knots up, and I feel sick. That was a fucked up night that I wish I never had to witness. I wish I could forget. I wish my head would stop messing with me. Give it up, man. Let it go. Just forget about it.
When I head inside, I go straight to my office. Sitting down at my desk, I pick up my desk phone and call downstairs to the bar.
“Blur,” I hear Mel answer.
“Mel, it’s Ryan. I just got here. Can you send Max up to my office?”
“Sure thing.”
Hanging up, I sit there, anxious for some reason, but need to talk, and Max is the only one who knows about that night.
“Hey, boss.”
I look up at Max as he walks in, and when he sees me sitting there, soaking wet, he questions, “You okay?”
“Do you think it’s possible . . . to connect two strangers . . . I mean . . .” I trail off, not able to get my thoughts together to form a coherent sentence.
He takes a seat and says, “What are you talking about?”
I breathe in a deep breath and let it out slowly when I tell him, “I went to grab a coffee before coming here, and the girl working there . . . well, when I saw her, my mind went straight to the girl from the alley. The girl who was attacked here a few months ago.”
“You think it’s the same person?”
Raking my hand through my wet hair, I fist a lock of it in frustration before saying, “I don’t know. I mean, I guess for a second I did, but really, the chances would be next to nothing, right?”
He doesn’t respond. I know I must sound crazy, but I continue anyway, “It’s probably not. That girl was unrecognizable. I don’t even know why my mind even took me there.”
“I think it makes s
ense.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. After it happened, it really bothered you that you didn’t ever know what happened to her. If she was even okay. So it makes sense that your mind would still need closure and that it would come out at random times trying to make that connection.” He takes a moment in thought, and then adds, “I dunno. Just my thought.”
“No, you’re right. I’m probably subconsciously trying to put an end to that situation. But that’s not gonna happen. I just need to let it go.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re gonna do nothing but drive yourself crazy,” he says.
“That chick probably thought I was crazy. I couldn’t stop staring at her, like some sick perv or something,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
“She wouldn’t be too off base,” he throws back at me, and I laugh with him. “I gotta get back to the door. You gonna come down soon? Jase is here with Zane.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna try and dry off, and I’ll be down.”
He turns back before walking out of my office and says, “That girl, whoever she is, I’m sure she’s okay. It’s been almost three months since it happened.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right,” I reluctantly agree.
“Like you said, just let it go.”
I couldn’t let it go like Max told me, like I told myself even. I went back to Common Grounds a few days later. Back to the coffee shop and she was there. I just had to see her again. Had to get the confirmation that there wasn’t a connection. The only similarity I could see was that the two girls are petite. That’s all. No other connection. So now . . . now I let it go.
Before I hit the gym today, I need to stop by the bar to pick up a few files that I have to drop off to my accountant. It’s early in the morning, so when I get there, I’m surprised to see Mel’s car in the back lot. Walking in, it’s dark. None of the lights are on, and the sun hasn’t started to rise under the cloud-covered sky.
When I walk out from the back, I see Mel sitting on top of the bar with her legs crossed, nursing a cup of coffee.
“Hey,” I say softly as I approach her.
She looks up and that’s when I see the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“He’s gone,” is her only response, and I know she means her husband.
Zane, back when he was her boyfriend, played gigs here every now and then. They would hang out here a lot, and when Mel needed a job, I brought her on.
I sit on one of the stools in front of her, and when she looks down at me, she explains, “They signed the deal, and he left.”
“Why aren’t you with him?”
As she lets her head fall, she says, “Because he didn’t want me to be.”
I clasp my hands together, not knowing what the hell is wrong with Zane. “I don’t understand.”
She wipes the tears from her eyes and sits up a little straighter. “He said he was tired of hearing me bitch about something he’d been working towards for years. He knew I didn’t want to move to L.A. My life is here. My whole family is here. I didn’t want to leave all that, but it was pissing him off. He feels like I’m not supporting him.”
“Do you support him?”
“I don’t know, Ry. Honestly, between you and me, even though I don’t want to be alone, I’m kinda glad for the break. We haven’t been on the same page for a while.” After she says this, she hops down behind the bar and walks over to refill her cup of coffee. “Want some?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
She pours it black, like I always take it, and sets it in front of me as she stands on the opposite side of the bar top.
Taking a slow sip, I then ask, “So, why are you here?”
“I just had to get out of the house, and I knew nobody would be here. That is, until you decided to crash my pity party,” she jokes, laughing at herself. “What are you doing here at six a.m.?”
“I’m on my way to the Athletic Club. I needed to pick up some paperwork to drop off to my accountant later today.”
“You coming back?”
“Nah. I’m gonna take the day off.”
“That sucks,” she complains.
“Why?”
“‘Cause Michael is boring as hell, and he’s been in a shit-ass mood the past few days,” she tells me.
“You know why?”
“Not for sure, but I overheard him on his cell the other day.”
“Eavesdropping?”
She starts laughing, and says, “You know it! But anyway, from what I heard, I think . . . and don’t say shit about this, Ryan. Got it?” she warns.
“Yeah, whatever. Just say it.”
“I think his wife is having an affair.”
“That fuckin’ sucks.”
“I know. But you didn’t hear that from me, and I’m not saying it’s true. It’s just what I pieced together from what I heard,” she defends.
“Well, for his sake, let’s hope you’re full of shit and your eavesdropping skills suck.”
The ringing of my phone interrupts us. I look to see that it’s Gavin before I answer.
“Hey, what’s up?” I say.
“You at home?”
“No. I’m at the bar.”
“Even better. I wanted to drop off some tickets that I can’t use for a concert this Saturday.”
“Dude, I’m not in the mood to hit up another club.”
“No club, man. It’s a private concert over at Spines.”
“The book store?” I ask.
“Yeah. My boss gave me a few tickets, but I had another work thing come up, and I have to bail. You want ‘em? It’s for The xx. They’re in town for a couple days before their overseas tour,” he explains.
“Yeah, definitely, man,” I respond. That’s one band I’ve been dying to see, but never had the chance before now.
“Great. Don’t go anywhere. I’m about five minutes away.”
“Later,” I say before hanging up.
After Gavin dropped off the tickets the other day, I wound up running into Jase when I made it to the gym. We spent a couple hours lifting, and he took a few of the tickets off my hands, saying that he would go with Mark and bring along one of his friends, who I assume is the same person that Mark was telling me about a while back. We also made plans for the three of us to head down to Mount Rainier to go hiking next weekend.
After talking to my mom, I’m now running a bit late. I take a quick shower, fix my hair, and throw on my typical dark jeans, grey shirt, and black boots. I make my way downstairs and grab my jacket before I head out. The night is misty as I drive across town to Spines, a local book and music shop that has managed to stay open and alive while most of the others have closed.
I swing by one of the many espresso stands in this town and grab a cup of coffee. I don’t plan on drinking tonight, so I need the buzz of caffeine to keep me going since I was up so early this morning.
I pull into Spines and park my jeep. When I walk in, the place is dimly lit, with people everywhere. The store is small, so even though there aren’t too many people here, it feels like there are. The band is already playing, and I leave my jacket on one of the coat racks before spotting Mark.
He’s by himself, hanging out next to a low bookcase, and I make my way over.
“Hey, Mark.”
He turns around and claps my arm. “Hey. You just get here?”
“Yeah. Where’s Jase?” I ask.
“He’s grabbing a few beers,” he responds. “There he is,” he says as he looks over my shoulder.
When I turn around, I’m taken by surprise when I see that Jase’s friend is her. Her eyes catch mine, and she coughs against the sip of beer she just took, looking shocked to see me just as I am her.
She’s dressed casually in a long-sleeved, white v-neck shirt, jeans, and worn, brown leather boots that run up to just below her knees. She stands small next to Jase when she speaks, “You again.”
“You two know each other?” Mark asks.
“Not really,” I an
swer, finally breaking my eyes away from her.
“He’s come into Common Grounds a couple times to get coffee. How do you guys know each other?” she asks Mark.
“He owns Blur, where the band has been playing lately.”
“And the guy who gave me the tickets,” Jase says and then turns to me and adds, “Thanks, man.”
“No problem at all,” I tell him and flick my eyes over to the girl, only to see she now has her back to me as she listens to the band play.
Mark and I go find a table to sit down while Jase stays back for a moment with his friend. I still don’t know her name. I sit down and look over at them. She looks upset when Jase reaches down and holds her hand. I immediately wonder if her mood has something to do with me being here. God, why am I feeling so self-conscious?
They start heading over, and she sits down across from me, slipping her leopard scarf off her neck and laying it on the table. The two times I’ve seen her, her hair has been pulled up, messy, but for some reason, it looked good on her. Tonight it’s down, thick and layered. She pulls my focus when she says, “I’m sorry, but I never caught your name.”
I smile. I don’t know why, but something about her is intriguing, so I let it linger on my lips when I tell her, “Ryan. Ryan Campbell.”
“I’m Candace.” She looks at my cup of coffee, and teases, “Ever drink anything besides coffee?”
“I work a lot of late nights.”
“So, Ryan,” Jase starts, “Candace will be graduating this year as well. She’s a dance major.”
I notice Candace looking annoyed at Jase for saying that, but I shrug it off and ask her, “Dance. What kind?”
“Ballet,” she tells me and then takes a sip of her beer.
“Can’t say I know anything about that,” I say with light laughter.
“It’s okay. Nobody ever does.”
This chick seems way out of the realm of the girls I normally talk to. A ballerina? I find myself wanting to keep her talking because I like the sound of her soft voice. “So, I take it you’re the best friend who loves this band?” I question, nodding my head toward the stage.