Page 7 of Along Comes Trouble

TESSA

S oft music filtersthrough my apartment and twines with the rich scent of coffee and freshly baked snickerdoodle cookies. I dance through the kitchen, twirling like the dust motes that float through the sunshine slicing through the open windows. Rows of cookies cool on wire racks covering my counter as I mix the batter for one last batch, this one made devoid of allergens so I can bring all my students a treat tomorrow. The song changes and I sing along until my phone interrupts me, buzzing with an incoming text. I wipe my hands on a towel hanging from the stove and pick it up .

Sarah: Hey, stranger! Want to meet me at Smitty’s tomorrow ?

I haven’t really talked to Sarah since the Colton incident last week. She texted with several apologies, and I responded after a couple hours, but that was pretty much the end of our communication. I’m not convinced she’s the one who needed to apologize. She can’t help that her brother is a jerk. Although, she is the one who handed Colton the phone. She’s also the one who hasn’t gotten back in touch after the incident, so she’s not entirely guilt free .

I reread Sarah’s text a few times. My instinct is to turn her down, but my first response to any question is always no, so I’ve learned over the years to pause before answering. As I’m thinking, another text comes in, this time from Faye .

Faye: Oh my God… I’m reading the best book!! You have to read it !!!!!

Faye gushes about the same book I’m struggling to get into, the one that seems exactly like every other book I’ve read over the last couple years. What’s wrong with me? Am I really the only person in the world who feels this way? Faye’s opinion echoes everything I heard other people saying, yet, I’m not sure I’ll even be able to finish the story. I don’t remember the last time I gave up on a book before I turned the last page. What am I not seeing that everyone else is ?

I wash my hands again and roll the dough into little balls, sprinkling them with cinnamon and sugar before sliding them into the oven. While they cook, I box up the first batch, making sure to mark very clearly that these cookies contain gluten, dairy, and eggs. I clean the counters completely so there’s no chance of contaminating the allergen free batch. The whole point of the cookies is to surprise my students with an unexpected treat. I’d hate for that to backfire because I wasn’t conscientious enough today .

When the oven timer goes off, I realize I’ve stopped singing. Stopped dancing. That Faye’s enthusiasm for a book I can’t get into brought back that feeling of restlessness I’ve been fighting. The heavy gray monotony of everything being the same, of nothing being satisfying. I just got my dream job. My savings account—the money I’m putting away for a down payment on a house—grows each week. My life is exactly the way I planned it. I’m one hundred percent on the path I set for myself. So why am I not bursting with joy ?

Before I can think better of it, I pick up my phone and respond to Sarah .

Me: A night at the bar sounds exactly like what I need .

I receive an emoji-filled text of excitement and we make plans to meet in the parking lot at seven tomorrow evening. With the last batch of cookies safely tucked away in a clearly labeled box, anticipation settles over me. Tomorrow is going to be a good day indeed. A day outside of routine. I’ll surprise my students with cookies. Then, weather permitting, maybe I can take them outside for science again. After that? A night out with Sarah, living the kind of life I usually just sit at home and read about. Tomorrow will be a day that will break me out of whatever malaise keeps wearing me down. I finish the night, listening to soft music while I trudge through the book, looking for anything that might explain why everyone likes it so much, and then go to bed excited for morning .

* * *

T he cookies are a hit.The weather couldn’t be more perfect. The first half of Friday is a huge success and before I know it, I’m on my way to meet Sarah at Smitty’s, the only bar in Brookside worth a damn. It reminds me of Fantastic Sam’s back home in Bliss and a surge of homesickness takes me by surprise as I pull into the parking lot. I brush it aside. Tonight is supposed to be about getting out of the funk I’ve been in this week, not digging myself deeper into it .

I find Sarah leaning against her car, looking adorable in her designer jeans, ankle boots, and a chunky white sweater that highlights her dark hair. For the first time ever, I regret playing it safe with my outfit. My white button-down shirt, jeans, and flats look plain and boring next to Sarah’s stylish choices .

“Hey there,” she says, as I climb out of my car and lock up. “You ready to have some fun ?”

“Am I ever. Man, I’m telling you, it’s been a week.” I have so much hope riding on this evening. Somehow, one night in a small bar in a small town is going to change my life forever. I keep trying to temper my expectations so I don’t end up disappointed, but every time I stop paying attention, anticipation rises through me again .

Sarah runs her hands into her hair and shakes it out. “You’re telling me. You’d think working for the fire department in a town this small would be boring.” She puffs out her cheeks as we walk around to the front of the nondescript brick building. “This week was definitely not boring .”

“Then it sounds like we’re both in need of some serious stress relief.” I haul open the heavy front door and a blast of music, conversation, and the smell of stale beer greets me as we step inside .

Sarah pauses, scouring the place for a table. “I don’t know, though. You wrangle way too many little kids for hours at a time. You probably win on the daily stress level competition.” She cranes her neck to see the back of the bar. “Shit.” She grimaces .

“What’s wrong ?”

“My brothers are here with their friends.” Sarah wrinkles her nose as she dips her head toward a table in the back. “You wanna find someplace else ?”

My gaze goes right to Colton just in time for him to glance our way. When our eyes meet, he’s smiling, laughing at something someone said, but the light on his face flickers and dies when he recognizes me. He averts his gaze, setting his jaw .

Indignation flares hot and bright in my belly. What right does he have to be angry with me? I’m the one who should be mad here, not him. I mean, sure, I said some nasty stuff, but I thought I was talking to Sarah, and only repeated what she had already told me. Colton’s the one who tricked me into saying those things and then had the audacity to call me a bitch. That whole text fiasco is on him. Not me. That man is insufferable. Maddening. I don’t know how Sarah can stand him .

Sarah moves to leave and I put a hand on her arm, swallowing back my exasperation. I don’t care how mad I am at her brother, if this is a chance for her to start mending fences with her family, she should take it. “You don’t have to avoid your family just because I’m here,” I say .

“It’s not you.” Sarah shakes her head. “Things are really broken between me and my family. It’s one thing to hang out with Colton, but I haven’t talked to David in forever, not even when I was at his wedding last year.” Sarah gestures toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go. This is just too weird .”

“I know none of this is my business, but family is important. I also know that I have no idea exactly what happened between you guys, so maybe I’m way off base here, suggesting you can fix whatever’s wrong in a public place…” I shrug, feeling like I crossed a line. “You know what? I have no idea what I’m talking about. Come on. Let’s go .”

Sarah stares toward the table in the back and lets out a long breath. “No. You’re right. An hour or two shooting the shit with my brothers and their friends doesn’t exactly mean I’m signing up for a family reunion or anything.” She grabs my arm and leads me through Smitty’s .

Well, alright then. Nerves jingle and jangle around in my stomach as we make our way to the back, but I brush them away. I’m totally capable of ignoring Colton if Sarah’s ready to take this step, especially because he’s sitting at one end of the table. All I need to do is sit at the opposite end and we can pretend like we never spent this evening together .

We stop at the group of friends and Sarah shoves one hand in her pocket while lifting the other in greeting. “Hey .”

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