Page 7 of Unstoppable You

Figuring I might as well channel my rage into being productive, I opened my laptop and pulled up my current orders. Printing labels and packing orders took up some time, and then I decided to do another print run to replenish my stock. Using the screen-printing press definitely helped get out my aggression a little bit. The machine took up a bunch of space in my living room, but I’d just bought a smaller couch. It was fine. I made it work.

Time got away from me as I lost myself in the repetitive tasks. There was an old-fashioned soothing quality to printing shirts and bags. Of lifting the plate and seeing the design that I had created and stamped myself. Once I was satisfied with my productivity for the day, I devoted the rest of my night to reading and eating the soup dumplings I’d been saving in my freezer.

Reflexively I kept glancing at my phone, as if I was waiting for a message to come in from one or both of the St. Clair siblings. I wouldn’t put it past James to get my number from her brother and use it to harass me.

I did get a message from Larison asking how my weekend went, though. Much more welcome.

I’ll tell you tomorrow. It’s too much to type or put in a voice message.

This James situation had to be discussed in person. Mondays were generally terrible, but I honestly loved my job about ninety percent of the time and Larison would not believe my weekend encounter.

Oh goodness, now my curiosity is piqued and I need to know just a little bit. Don’t keep me in suspense!

I laughed.

I’ll just say that I had a blast from the past. That’s all I can say without getting into it.

Well, I’m completely intrigued and on the edge of my seat. Jo would like to tell you that she wants to know too, so we might have to put her on video.

That happened a lot. Jo was still finishing her degree to become a reading and literacy teacher, but sometimes she’d call in between her classes to check in. It was so sweet. I’d always been envious of their relationship and how they supported each other. I couldn’t even get Connor to respond to a simple message let alone get him on video during the day. He was always too busy doing something else.

I’d told myself that was true. Hewastoo busy. It wasn’t fair of me to have such high expectations.

Now I didn’t know what to think anymore.

* * *

Larison didn’t disappointwhen I told her about James appearing in my Pilates class. I’d never really mentioned James much, because she wasn’t a part of Connor’s life. She’d been so adamant that she was never fucking coming back when she got accepted to college in Boston. Yet here she was.

A small part of me, the smallest part, wondered what had happened to bring her back. Was it a breakup? Had she gotten fired? Was she running from the law?

The curiosity was small and quiet, but it still sat in a corner of my brain and yapped too loudly for my liking.

As if Larison had heard my thoughts, she asked, “I wonder why she came back, if she felt that strongly about leaving and cutting everyone off?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

Larison nodded as we both worked side-by-side to check the shelves and make sure the shop was ready to open for the day. She asked me if I should tell my parents about James being back and I shook my head immediately. They’d want to know everything and try and get us to reconcile, and that was not happening. Hell to the no.

James, Connor, and I had grown up in the suburbs only minutes from the city, so it was still like a small town where you saw familiar faces at the gas station. My mom worked at the town office and my dad was a retired math teacher who now did small engine repairs, so neither of them was good at holding in any good gossip. I loved them, but neither of them could shut up if their lives depended on it.

“Well, hopefully you won’t have to run into her again. Maybe she won’t come back to that class and will leave you alone?” Larison said, flipping the sign from CLOSED to OPEN and unlocking the door.

“One can only hope,” I said. My hopes had never been lower.

* * *

For a Monday,it wasn’t a bad one. I’d had a long discussion about romance books that had tentacles with one woman, and then had helped a very shy teen (who I hoped wasn’t skipping school) find some queer romances. Larison’s daughter stopped by with her nanny and brought treats for all of us, and Jo came by in the afternoon when her classes were finished so I had to recount the whole James situation again for her.

“What a small world,” she said, shaking her head and pushing her clear-framed glasses further up her nose.

“Not that small, apparently.”

It wasn’t like me to be so grumbly and grumpy and I didn’t like the person that the breakup had turned me into.

For sure I was still my normal self with the customers, but it was an additional strain in a way that it hadn’t been before. I’d always liked people, had always enjoyed being around them. My mom used to joke that if you looked up “extrovert” in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of my face.

I’d almost been like an addict when I was younger. So desperate to never, ever be alone. Since I didn’t have any siblings, I would sneak into my parents’ room, and when I was too big for them not to notice me in their bed, I’d sleep on the small couch that they usually put laundry on. Sleepovers had been my absolute favorite and I’d done whatever I could to get myself invited to as many as possible. Some kids at school made note of my desperation (I wasn’t as good at hiding it) and school got rough for a while as the girls I’d been friends with turned on me for being “weird” and “obsessed” with them.

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