Page 20 of A Forgotten Promise

You’re pregnant and cranky.

Celeste

(Eye-roll emoji) At least I have a reason to be cranky. What’s your excuse?

I lived with my brother for half of my life. Now it’s your turn. Enjoy him. (devil emoji)

Lily

I have a day off, let’s have coffee. All four of us (smiley emoji).

Raincheck

“At one point, you’ll have to see them.” Cora looks at me, unimpressed.

While I wasn’t ready to see my friends yet, I also couldn’t stay alone in Cora’s apartment. Alone with my thoughts, and her two adorably mean cats.

Finding a new purpose in life is a tough task. I wasn’t expecting it to be easy. I was prepared for the darker moments and learning by failing.

What I wasn’t ready for was the additional financial uncertainty on top of my existential crisis.

So here I am at my friend’s bistro, sipping on a luxurious latte as if life was normal.

“I know, I know.” My gaze follows the activity on the street, avoiding Cora’s eyes.

“Well, if you need to talk, I’m here to listen,” she says.

I bite my bottom lip and turn my head, smiling at her. “Thank you.”

“In the meantime, let me cut you the biggest slice of apple pie.” She winks.

Her ginger curls bounce as she disappears back to her kitchen.

Cora is almost ten years older than me. She left her corporate job to take care of her father’s bistro.

She started anew. Perhaps she is the best person to talk to about my next steps.

I take a sip of my coffee. I really should stop drinking this shit. I haven’t slept well in I don’t know how long. It feels like ages. Since I was fifteen, probably.

A few patrons are enjoying an early lunch at the table beside mine, chatting happily. A mother is nursing a baby in the corner while taking forkfuls of her pie. A lanky young man reads a book in the corner.

Life seems to stop here, in this bistro, allowing people just to be for a few moments, enjoying themselves. Maybe that’s my problem. I need to learn how to slow down. How to be without doing.

Who knew that relaxing is a skill one has to learn? Of course, I’d have a massage or some downtime in between gigs, but there was always the next job on the books.

I pull out my knitting from my bag and decide that just being is exactly what the doctor ordered.

I inspect the colorful pattern of my work. A blanket, I guess. Or it might end up being a shawl. Knitting became a meaningful way to spend time while waiting during the long days at work.

I learned it from a girl at a photoshoot in the Caribbean many years ago. We arrived at the island, and the weather turned to shit, which delayed the shoot.

She knitted to pass the time. I finished my book, and in the absence of anything else to do, she lent me needles and taught me the craft.

Far from being an expert, I love the mindfulness it brings, along with the relaxing and stress relief. It became essential for me in dealing with my demanding job. Perhaps now I could enjoy it for fun and creativity.

A man in a suit and the most ridiculous silver comb-over walks in, marching to the counter. The mother in the corner is now burping her baby. The group beside me is getting ready to leave.

The stillness has a different energy now, and while I enjoy my needlework, I’m still restless.

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