Page 8 of Bruise Me Tenderly

I follow her through the familiar house and into the kitchen. The sink is piled with mixing bowls, and all the ingredients are lined up on the counter.

“Have a cookie and then wash your hands. We’ve got a lot more to bake for the sale tomorrow.”

I lean against the only counter she’s not using and swipe the biggest sugar cookie I see. “Helping with senior trips?”

“Of course. The ones who can’t afford to go are the ones who need a vacation the most.”

My throat tightens at her words. I grew up doing this with her. She and my dad got along really well, and I always looked at her as more of a grandmother than a family friend. I used to bring River over here all the time.

“McKenzie mentioned you’d be coming back for the baby’s birth, but I didn’t realize it’d be so soon.”

I clear my throat in an attempt to dislodge the memories. “Yeah, I just wanted to make sure I was here in plenty of time. Working online allows for that kind of thing, so why not, right?”

“I have to say, a part of me really didn’t think you’d come back.”

I swallow the bite of cookie in my mouth, but it doesn’t want to go down. “Why would you think that? McKenzie’s having a baby.”

“Oh, honey, it’s not about that. Everyone knows how much you love her. I’m just surprised because the memories here must be really bad for you.” She says it in that matter-of-fact tone I’ve always loved her for. “I thought it’d be at least a decade before we saw you around here again.”

“Well, McKenzie doesn’t believe in my timetable.”

Polly laughs as she starts measuring out more flour. “It seems that most days, the only thing your sister does believe in is you.”

The idea makes me smile. When we were growing up, McKenzie always bucked against anything our mom tried to get her into doing. The biggest stand she took was when she was seven and refused to take part in some little princess beauty pageant Mom was trying to push her into. McKenzie’s always been stubborn and hardheaded, and it didn’t always make it easy to get along with her. But after Dad died and Mom ran off, I’d never been more thankful that my sister was like that. Sheshowed the courts without a doubt that she could take care of me until I turned eighteen. And she did.

Even now, she’s going against the societal norms by having a baby through a sperm donor instead of the traditional way. She doesn’t want a relationship with anyone, but she wants kids early in life. She’s ready to do it now, and he’s not going to let anything stop her.

“Come help me,” Polly says, interrupting my thoughts. “Get those chocolate chips. We still have another kind to make before dinner.”

I obey her, and it doesn’t take long before we’ve fallen into a rhythm as familiar to me as breathing. I spent hours running underfoot at her coffee house before I was old enough to actually help out.

She would pay me back in high school when I worked, but I didn’t like taking money from her so I’d cash the check and put it in her tip jar.

The night I left Portland, a big part of me wanted to ask Polly to come with me. I was always safe with her, and I always felt like I could talk to her no matter what. But I knew I couldn’t. I had to get out alone.

I take a breath and drag my thoughts out of the past. Focusing on getting the recipe right helps, but once the dishes are all washed, all we have is time while the batches go in and out of the oven.

When Polly takes a seat at the round table with two glasses of lemonade and places one across from her, I get the hint. I slide into the chair and pull the glass of lemonade closer.

“Are you happy in Seattle?” Polly asks.

“Yeah, mostly.”

She studies my face for a moment before asking, “Loneliness a problem?”

A part of me hates that she can read me so easily still. “Yeah, sometimes. I know a lot of people out there but…”

“But they don’t know about everything that happened here?” she supplies when my voice trails off.

I nod. I don’t want to tell every single person I meet about where I’m from and what I survived, but I haven’t managed to form any kind of connection with people in Seattle. And I don’t think it’s them. I’m having too hard of a time letting anyone close to me.

“It’s no way to live, you know,” Polly says as if she can read my mind. “It’s not good for you to be alone.”

“You’re alone, and you’re perfectly happy,” I point out.

“I’m not alone, and you know it. I have this whole town. It doesn’t matter that I never got married or had children; I’ve got all kinds of people in my corner.” She pauses a moment before saying, “Just because you have to leave a place doesn’t mean you have to leave its people.”

“I know that. I talk with McKenzie every day. And I got back in touch with you not even a month after I left.” Even as the words come out of my mouth, I know that’s not all that she’s talking about.

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