Page 15 of Dreaming of Dawson

There are reminders of him all around the house… from his fishing rods in the hall, and his hats on the hooks by the door, tothe old collection of comic books that still lie beside the chair he used to sit in.

It’s like he’s still here in some ways, and I think Aunty prefers it that way, even though she never allows herself to mope.

I get my sunny disposition from her. That’s what she told me when I arrived here, with almost no warning, last November. I was broken-hearted, unusually dejected and even a little angry, but she refused to let me wallow, and set me to work redesigning her website. It’s what I do. Which is to say, it’s what I used to do before I let my personal life destroy my career.

“Whatever you’re thinking about, you need to stop it,” she says, bringing me back from the past.

“How did you know I was thinking about anything?”

“You had one of those looks on your face.”

“One of what looks?”

“Those looks that tell me you were thinking about that man, and what he did.”

“I wasn’t. Not really. I was thinking about my career, actually.”

I take a sip of coffee and she copies me, looking at me over the rim of her cup.

“Do you wanna get back to it?”

“No. It’s odd. I know I should. I trained to become a web designer, and for a while, I really enjoyed it.”

“But…?”

“But it’s all kinda tainted now.” I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe I should be stronger.”

“Or maybe you should accept that side of your life is in the past, and you’re starting a new chapter.”

It’s just like Aunty to be so full of optimism, and I can’t help smiling.

“So you think I can make a career out of working in a bar?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But at least you’re trying. You’re putting yourself out there, and you never know who you might meet, and what might become of it.”

I check my watch. I’ve still got plenty of time. “Well… I’m gonna meet Dawson Pine in a while. Let’s just hope he likes what he sees.”

“I can’t see why he won’t. Dawson was always a fair man, even if he has become kinda miserable over the last few years.”

“Miserable?”

“Yeah. He’s never been the same since his wife left him.”

Him too? I recall what Peony said yesterday and shake my head, wondering how many marriages end in divorce around here, although I refuse to gossip, and mumble, “That’s a shame,” just for something to say.

Aunty’s brow furrows into the closest she ever gets to a frown, and she tilts her head to the left. “Don’t even think about it,” she says.

“Think about what?”

“Becoming his… his… I don’t know… his female equivalent to a knight in shining armor.”

“Why would I want to do that?” I may have admired him from afar, but it’s not like I know the man.

“Because it’s what you do, Macy. You find hopeless causes and you try to put things right for them. You’ve been doing it since you were tiny, and you brought home your first stray cat… and drove your poor mom insane.”

I smile, remembering the look on my mom’s face when I did that, but how she welcomed Coco into our lives and gave her a home for the remaining five years of her life.

“I don’t see the harm in helping those who’ve lost their way,” I say, defending myself.

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