Page 17 of Lose You to Find Me

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Lindon’s Main Streetalways smells like a mixture of the businesses it offers. The pretty roadway is lined with historic brick buildings, donated benches, and greenery carefully planted and maintained by the town’s garden society that consists of ten older women with nothing better to do. Today I smell pressed coffee, fresh roses, and something fried that makes my stomach growl.

One Saturday every month, which happens to land on today, the entire street shuts down traffic and invites vendors to come in and sell to the community. The sidewalks are always full of tables from the diners and cafés on the main drag where people sit and talk while people watching. A farmers’ market is set up in the square where people can sell their homegrown goods, and there are always local bands playing on a makeshift stage in the middle of the street for everybody stopping by to buy local.

Lindon has always been a small community with a big heart. One of the many reasons I love it so much here, no matter the mixture of memories it holds. There are places to go and people to see who are supportive no matter what gossip is spreading. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss it until getting back this morning.

Looking back at my time in Virginia, I spent way too much time alone because I thought that was what I needed. I’d always been around Caleb and his friends, so solitude and time to think was what this summershould havebeen about. In reality, I used it as a time to avoid every ugly emotion that came at me. Turns out it takes a lot of energy to pretend like you can move on from the life you always thought you’d have with someone.

“I’m sorry,” I’d told Caleb when he opened the ring box. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry. Maybe the prettiest I’ve ever seen. Plain yet elegant, which is perfect for me. Nothing showy or flashy or overdone. He’d chosen right.

Ever since I saw the white-gold band with the cushion cut diamond placement, I’ve had dreams of it on my finger. One night, when I woke up in bed all alone, I had tears in my eyes knowing that he wasn’t around anymore. There wouldn’t be any more nighttime drives with the radio playing our favorite country songs while holding hands or pit stops at the creamery for Milk Duds blizzards in the summer or winters spent sledding down the high school’s steepest hill until we nearly crashed into the bleachers by the football field.

When Tiffany saw my bloodshot eyes the morning after those memories hit me like a freight train, I knew I couldn’t tell her that I thought I’d made a mistake. She would have told me that I needed to stay strong.Women like us are better off alone, she’d told me countless times.

But what even were “women like us”? Miserable ones? Lonely ones? Too stubborn for our own good because of our trust issues? I’d like to think I’m not as cynical as them, that all their years of talking about the curse make me wonder if I’ve internalized my own reflections on love and relationships. It’d make sense.

Waving at a few locals who are working their respective booths, I make my way toward the little bakery that has always been my second home thanks to the woman who owns it.

Bea squeezes me in a tight hug as soon as I walk in, the yummy sugar and spice scents lingering in the air and making me feel at peace. “It’s good to see you, girly,” the older woman tells me, pulling back to give me a once-over, clucking her tongue. “You’ve gotten a tan and lost some weight. I’ll have to send you on your way with some of those molasses cookies you love so much. I made Elena help me with a fresh batch this morning before she went to school.”

“How is Lena doing?” I ask of her teenage granddaughter. She’s always a ball of energy whenever I’m here, and it’s hard not to be amused when she gets stars in her eyes when some of the university’s athletes come in for food and coffee. She had a huge crush on Caleb for a while that I thought was cute, especially when it would make him blush whenever I’d tease him about it. How could I blame the girl? He’s a six-foot-two, all-American boy. He loves his family, football, and…well, me. His passion alone makes him attractive, but his looks are an easy bonus.

Bea moves around the counter and grabs a Styrofoam to-go cup from the stack and then grips one of the coffeepots closest to her. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I swear that child got even sassier since she turned seventeen. It’s obvious she was sent into my life as karma for all the things I did when I was younger.”

I crack a smile. “That bad, huh?”

“She’s boy crazy” is all the woman says as she pours coffee into the cup, then the creamer and six sugars I always include. I don’t know how she remembers everybody’s orders around here.

“She’s young,” I reply, shrugging. I can’t say I was ever boy crazy, but that’s because my teenage years were spent with one boy. Mostly.

Bea waves me off. “I finally spoke to Artie about that space above the lounge. I know it’s not ideal for your first office, but it’d be a great start for you getting on your feet. And if you think about it, you’d be above the perfect clientele. Those girls probably need a little counseling.”

The Novelty Lounge, a small strip club that was meant to draw in horned-up college students, caused a huge stir when it first went in. The town tried petitioning it from officially opening because people were afraid it’d taint Lindon’s reputation. They’re not fooling anyone though. Some of the same people who started the uproar are seen walking in and out of the glass doors which feature silhouettes of naked women on them.

“I haven’t even started the term yet,” I remind her, watching as she deposits my favorite sweets into a white paper bag. “I’ve got a year of regular classes, a six-week term in the summer,andclinical hours to get my certification before I can even entertain where to lay down roots.”

“Lay down roots,” she mocks, setting the coffee and bag down in front of me. “As if it’s not going to be here. Why else would you be back? Plus, Artie knows all that already. He’s willing to hold the space just for you. He’s been complaining that nobody wants to rent it because of the noise. I bet you could convince him to do some soundproofing. He could get a discount for materials at—” She visibly stops herself before she says the hardware store.

My ex’s family business was the only source of income I’d had since I was fifteen years old. “I don’t even have a job anymore to help me afford anything. Not an apartment and definitely not an office space, Bea.”

We’re quiet for a moment or two before she looks around the mostly empty café. “I’m looking for some help around here if you’re interested. You know I’ll work around your school schedule. That way you won’t be overwhelmed with too much.”

“I could use some money,” I admit, nudging the floor with the end of my flip-flop. My eyes lock on the colorful pedicure I got with Tiffany right before I left. During the appointment, she told me to choose the red because it was sultry and would get men’s attention. I chose green. The same shade Caleb always said made my eyes pop. “I’m back at home with Mom for right now until I figure something else out.”

It’s not an ideal situation considering I’ve spent a lot of time out of my parents’ home. I found peace in the chaos of the sorority house I lived in during undergrad because at least I didn’t have to deal with my parents’ constant bickering. The most I had to listen to was some of my sisters crying over men who didn’t deserve them or catty arguments over stupid things like groceries, clothes, or what charity the car wash funds went toward.

“If you see Artie before I do, can you tell him I appreciate the offer but that he shouldn’t hold that space for me? It’s going to be a long time before I’m ready to start my own practice, and there’s bound to be somebody willing to pay him rent for the space before I ever can. I heard the town is doing a revitalization project and got a big grant for it, so that’ll pull in business owners who are willing to deal with just about anything for the right price tag.”

Bea’s eyes give me a thorough study before nodding. “I’ll pass it along, but I wouldn’t be so sure. You know that man has always had a soft spot for you and what you want to do.”

Artie Fisher is a sweet older man who owns a few different buildings on Main Street. Some were converted into student housing and others are office spaces. I know a big reason he’s fond of what I want to do is because he lost his daughter to mental illness a long time ago. He’s told me there needs to be more access to help and resources here. Help I’d love to offer to anybody who needs it.

Swallowing, I say, “It’s hard to think about the next big step when I can’t seem to handle the little ones right now.”

She offers me a comforting smile. “I have no doubt that you’ll figure it out. You’re in a rough place, but it’s bound to get better so long as you put the effort in.”

Pulling out a five-dollar bill and stuffing it into the tip jar, I say, “You’re right. I’ll send you my class schedule so we can work around it. I might only be able to work about three days a week because I’ve packed on a lot of grad classes, but…”

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