Page 7 of Suddenly Entwined

“Hmm.” I peruse the drawer of old DVDs. “Titanic.”

I withdraw the case and insert the disc into the system.

“Not again,” says the old guy closest to my end of the bar.

I fist my hands on my hips. “And what would you have picked, Norm?”

He scratches the white scruff on his chin. “Jaws.”

“Well, imagine there are sharks in the water.”

The next couple of hours really fly by, and I keep chuckling to myself because, despite complaining about my movie choice, Norm’s attention is glued to the screen.

“Eyes are getting a little misty there,” I say.

“It’s smoky in here.”

I freshen his drink, adding an extra napkin next to it as I slide it back and laugh. “You haven’t been able to smoke inside in like thirty years, old man.”

He grumbles, but I catch a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Chapter four

Berg

“Oh, come on!” I briefly lift my hands off the wheel in a “what gives” gesture at the driver who cut me off. Someone honks behind me, and I grip the wheel harder. West Isle may not be the biggest place, but the highway is jam-packed right now and I’m running late to get the girls. I pull into the nearly empty parking lot, my stomach growling as I hurry inside, still annoyed with myself for forgetting my lunch on the kitchen counter this morning. Hightailing it down a freshly mopped hallway as I apologise to the custodian for my dirty work boots, I reach the after school care room at last.

“Daddy!” Lou abandons her colouring sheet, a pink crayon rolling onto the floor.

Natalie’s greeting is more subdued, but she smiles all the same and collects her things from the cubbies along the wall.

“Good day, girls?” I ask as I scribble my initials on the bottom of the sign out form near the door.

There’s only one other kid left in the room now, and I wonder if they have a single parent, too. If they feel as frazzled as I do at the end of a workday.

“Say thanks, girls.”

They chorus a goodbye and as I double check that they have their bags and turn to leave, someone slams smack into my chest.

“Oh! Berg, hi!”

There’s a woman pressed to my body, and I recognize her dark eyes and prim hairstyle in an instant. She smoothes her hand over her bob even though there isn’t a strand out of place.

“Tamara. You alright?” I ask, even though I know she is.

Did she enter the room with her eyes closed?

“Of course. How I even managed to walk into a big guy like you is beyond me.”

“And me,” I mumble.

“It must be the heels,” she suggests, sticking out a bare calf below her pencil skirt.

“That, uh, could definitely be the problem.”

“Are you just picking up your girls now?” She asks, tucking her brown hair behind her ears.

I don't have the patience for small talk right now.

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