Page 74 of One More Heartbeat
That sound is the reason I love what I do. This place, my life’s work, helps bring joy to people. Even if it’s just the simple joy that comes from eating one of our desserts or a tasty meal.
I walk to the staff room and remove the bottle of ibuprofen from my desk drawer. I take two tablets with the remaining water in the glass on my desk. I’d left it there when I rushed out to drive to my appointment.
I lock my purse in the bottom drawer, grab the pair of jeans and a T-shirt I have stashed in my locker, and walk across the hallway to the washroom. I click the lock on the door in place and change out of my clothes.
The stiffness in my joints makes it more challenging to get in and out of my pants. I have to lean against the door to maintain my balance. I mutter a few colorful curses in my head.
Once the jeans are on, I pause for an elongated moment, catching my breath, my head resting on the door.I’ve got this.
I plaster on a smile that hopefully isn’t as fragile as it feels. Joesph’s words from the night we broke up slither into my head, coil around my resolve.
“The woman claims she has chronic pain…the rest of us have to pick up her slack.”
No one knows—other than Garrett—I’m dealing with this. No one suspects I might have rheumatoid arthritis, and I want to keep it that way. For as long as possible.
I don’t want people to think I’m not capable of doing my job, to feel like they need to pick up my “slack.” And I don’t want anyone to know how much I’m struggling.
This, whatever it is, won’t define me.
What I’m doing with P&T, what I’m doing for the community, what I’m doing to help support the women-owned small businesses in the area, those are what define me.
I zombie-walk down the hallway toward the counter at the front of the café. Too bad it isn’t Halloween. Then I could pretend my awkward gait is part of my costume.
I might be able to plaster a smile on my face and fool everyone, but how can I make it look like I’m walking normally?
And how the hell am I supposed to work on the expansion today when my body doesn’t want to cooperate? But if I don’t work on it, Troy’s crew will have to do it, and that will put everyone behind schedule and add to my expenses. That’s why I had opted to do some of it myself.
Anastasia and Clara are busy serving customers at the counter. I wave and smile at the three regulars crowding the countertop to place their orders. They return the smile and wave, like members of the family they’ve become. The P&T family.
My smile widens at how important every member of this family is to me. They are what gets me out of bed in the morning when my body is temporarily uncooperative. Their smiles brighten my days, even when I’m not feeling anywhere close to a hundred percent.
Dr. Edwards and Dr. Holmes told me I need to rest whenever my body demands it. I was technically resting on the drive to Maple Ridge, and that didn’t seem to help my hips or back or knees in the slightest. They’re still grouchy. Still pissed at being forced to endure the ride.
Anastasia turns and meets my gaze. “Hey, you’re back.”
“I just got here. And now I’m going next door to work on the expansion. Do you two need anything?”
“No, we should be good for now. Have fun.”
I chuckle. She makes it sound like I’m spending my afternoon at Disneyland. “Will do.”
I head for the kitchen and check how things are going with Jess and Keshia.
“We’re good, other than we’re getting low on the pumpkin curry,” Keshia tells me. “It’s been extremely popular today.”
“Wow, that’s great. Guess word got out I added it to the rotating menu last week. I’ll make more before I go next door.” I grab the ingredients and start chopping the vegetables and preparing the food. My body quickly gets into the flow, my motor memory kicking in.
My hips sway to Keshia’s show-tune playlist. My movements become less jerky, less robotic as one song merges into the next.
The pain and stiffness don’t entirely diminish, but they do eventually become less crippling. It doesn’t hurt that I’m doing something I love. Cooking is my source of comfort, the thing that relaxes me—whether I’m at home or at Picnic & Treats.
With the curry simmering on the stove, I go next door.
I pick up the sledgehammer—my earbuds secure in my ears, my helmet and goggles on—and I swing at what remains of the counter. The sisters who bought the business took the glass shelves, so I just need to remove what’s left.
My body falls into the satisfying rhythm of swinging the sledgehammer in time to Aalia singing “Do It to Me.”
As she sings of golden kisses, my thoughts drift to Garrett and the kiss from ten days ago. The way his lips moved against mine…and mine shamelessly, soundlessly begged for more. The way my body was left humming for the rest of the night, so close to getting what it wanted. So far from getting what it needed.
