Page 31 of Catch Me When I Fall

We split up, her going toward the coffee counter and me toward the checkout counter. Once I was there, I went directly to the to-do list Sarah had given me last week. She told me I didn’t have to rush through it, but what else was I going to do? Stare at the wall? I didn’t need this job, but it was better than just sitting in Blue Beauty all day. No matter how much I loved that house, the last thing my mental health needed was cabin fever. I’d spent a year in the same fucking room, and I vowed I would never spend more than three days inside.

This, of course, was easier said than done.

Fighting to better my mental health wasn’t just a battle: it was an all-out war. I didn’t have thousands of soldiers behind me ready to face the army of darkness and pain on the other side of the field. It was just me, and that had to be enough.

I was enough.

I was worthy and deserving of a good life, despite all the horror I’d been through.

I was worthy of being happy. To do that, I just had to try a little harder than some people, and that was okay. There was nothing wrong with having scars underneath the surface. Just because no one could see them didn’t mean I wasn’t brave.

The bell above the door jingled, and I blinked, snapping out of it. Without looking up from the list, I greeted the customer. “Welcome to Rossy’s Books!”

The customer said nothing; then again, most of the time they never did. Sarah said I didn’t have to greet the customers as they came in, but Rossy found it endearing. Over the next few minutes, I stayed behind the checkout counter and unloaded the cute bookmarks Sarah ordered on Monday, setting them up in the display case at the end of the counter.

As I pulled out a new stack, taking in the details of the castle printed on it, I felt eyes on me. I looked up, surprised to find no one standing in front of me. I tilted my head back to look upstairs in the children’s section, frowning when I found no one there either. I looked over to the coffee bar, seeing the same two people who had been here since this morning still sipping on their coffee and working. Margo was finishing up my coffee, not paying any attention to me, so I moved my eyes over to the stacks.

My eyes landed on someone standing directly between to the two bookshelves in the middle of the store. They had their back to me now, head bent, reading the back of a novel they’d plucked from the shelf. Shaking it off, I went back to the bookmarks, and when Margo brought me my latte in my favorite mug, she leaned over the counter.

“There’s a woman who’s been staring at you,” she whispered.

Immediately, my eyes snapped up the the center aisle, but no one was there. “Who?” I asked, looking back to Margo.

She dropped her eyes to her finger, pointing towards the window seats on the far side of the store, across from the coffee counter. Slowly, I looked over and stiffened when my eyes collided with another pair. The woman was skinny—almost too skinny—and her brown hair was pin straight, almost lifeless, lacking shine. She was wearing a plain black t-shirt that was way too big on her, black capris, and flip-flops. She didn’t have a cup of coffee or even a book. She was just staring at me.

“I didn’t see her before,” I murmured, not looking away from her. I couldn’t tell if she was lost in a comfortable stare or if she was trying to make my head explode with some sort of freak mind power.

Margo cleared her throat loudly. “Is there something we can help you with, ma’am?” she called out. I looked around the store to see everyone in it looking our way.

“Margo,” I quietly scolded.

She didn’t pay any attention to me, only focusing on the woman. When I looked back over, the woman’s upper lip was curled in a sneer, but she didn’t respond.

“Hey,” Margo clipped, her voice hard. “I’m talking to you. Quit looking at her and look at me.” The woman’s eyes snapped over to Margo, and my co-worker took a step closer, her body tight. “I asked you a fucking question.”

“Margo,” I hissed.

The bell above the door jingled, and I heard a sweet British voice. “What’s going on, Margo?”

We both turned to find Rossy standing there, holding some to-go bags from Margie’s. My heart warmed. That man didn’t have an errand to run; he went to get us lunch.

“This woman keeps staring at Carrie,” Margo explained, looking back to the stranger. “You either buy something or get the hell out.”

Rossy looked to the woman, and I watched in real time as the gentle, kind man I’d been getting to know transformed into something else entirely. He didn’t ask for an explanation or try to belittle Margo. No, he stepped forward, putting a hand on Margo’s shoulder for a moment as he passed her.

“You need to leave,” he said to the woman, his voice stern.

Suddenly, I liked Rossy even more, and I didn’t think that was possible.

I thought she would put up a fight, but when she didn’t, I took a step back, getting closer to the store phone just in case. She took her time standing, keeping her cold gaze on Rossy. He didn’t move until she stood right in front of him, stepping to the side and gesturing to the door. “On your way, miss,” he ordered, his voice sharp.

She didn’t give Margo the time of day, and when she was in front of the door, Rossy right behind her, she cocked her head toward me. “Bitch,” she sneered.

I jerked back slightly, the hate in her voice slamming into me. What the hell?

Then, she was gone, but the uneasy feeling she left hovered around me like smoke. A second later, I felt hands on my shoulders, and I was being turned around to face a very concerned Margo. “You okay?” she asked.

I blinked. “More stunned than anything. What the heck was that about?”

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