Page 47 of Bewitched & Bewildered
The last I heard, he was there with someone, but I haven’t seen any sign of him having a partner. His walking alone adds to the piling evidence that he’s single.
“I was working at Knox Media…”
There’s hesitation. Why?
“I’ve heard of the company. And…?” I press.
“And living with my wife.”
I stop in my tracks. I knew he had a girlfriend, but awife? When did that happen? Where is she now? He talks about her like they’re still together. My heart clenches.
“And my familiars, of course,” he says, not stopping. “The bun—you saw her—and I have a cat too. I don’t knowif you’ve met him, but you should. He’s delightfully mischievous.”
I tug at his sleeve, forcing him to stop. “Don’t distract me with cute animals! Where is your wife? She can’t be hiding in your little apartment.”
Why do I feel weird asking about her?
“Well…” His lips twist. “She’s not exactly my wife anymore.”
My hand drops. “Oh.”
He juts his chin forward, taking a step away. “C’mon. Don’t be weird about it.”
For some reason, I listen to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He waves a hand. “It’s fine. It was a year ago.”
“A year isn’t that long,” I say. “A year ago, I was… still working at a bar.”
He lifts a brow.” “Oh yeah? Did you like it?”
“Kind of. I wanted to be a bartender. I like the mixology part of the job. There are a lot of unique drinks you can make, you know. It’s almost like mixing a potion.”
“Why didn’t you pursue it? You would have been good.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I have a feeling.”
“I don’t know what happened,” I say. “I never stayed in one place long enough to learn or move up. Eventually, I forgot about it. This is my first time thinking about it in a while.”
I’ve spent so much time stopping myself from doing anything. Being a bartender feels like a small goal to some, and that’s what stopped me. It never felt like enough.
Ozan opened up to me about his wife. I’m trying to open up, but I can’t admit that last part out loud. Hewouldn’t understand.
For a few moments, all I hear is the crunch of our footsteps.
“It’s not too late,” he says.
“It is. I’m running the shop now.”
“And that makes you happy?”
“I don’t know.” I let out a long, slow sigh. “The last time I was happy was before my mom died. I can’t expect anything tomakeme happy—not even her shop and...” I stop myself, glaring at him. “Why am I talking toyouabout this?”
He lets out a carefree laugh. “I honestly don’t know.”
“This is the second time!”
