Page 21 of Our Long Days
APRIL
Today is my birthday.
Thirty-five.
As usual, I work, even if it’s a weekend. Every year, Patrick turns up at the job site or the workshop, dragging me to Shirley’s and claiming it’s depressing to celebrate alone. This year, however, he’s invited me for dinner with him, Jo, and Lottie. Apparently, they have news to share.
I ignored the shocked faces of my crew when I was the first one to leave today. Dramatic fucks.
Spring is here. Crisp air greets me as I climb out of my truck, tangy salt and sweet maple blowing in from the coast and national park. I take one last exhale before walking into the small convenience store on Robin Road.
Not wanting to turn up empty-handed, I browse the aisles, debating between a bouquet or box of chocolates, when a noise tinkles in my right ear.
My spine snaps straight.
A laugh.
A very familiar laugh.
It’s been several weeks since I heard it last, but it still carries the same effect. A straight shot of dopamine to the bloodstream with tracings of lust. So much for cold turkey.
I’m caught between two options:
- Leave immediately
- Go in search of the bright smile pairing with the laugh
Like an addict, I choose the latter.
She’s easy to find. Silver-blonde hair sitting below her jaw—has she had it cut? Yellow Chucks, ripped jeans, an old band tee tied at the front, revealing a little sliver of skin. Flashbacks of that night bombard me, but I’m quick to shove them away.
Bent at the waist, she taps a finger to her lips, brow furrowed in deep concentration. She mumbles to herself, but with the whirr of the refrigerators behind me and the ding of the cash register, it’s difficult to make out.
So, I step closer, pretending to inspect a jar of pasta sauce, listening intently, thankful I haven’t removed my hearing aid yet.
For a second, I think she’s on the phone until she addresses herself.
“One sweet treat. Choose wisely, Florence.” The fingers on her other hand bounce between a Twix and a Snickers bar.
After a long minute of indecision, she picks up the Twix. Switches it for the Snickers. Swaps again.
My snort is automatic.
And loud.
She whips around, eyes wide when she spies me standing a few feet away.
“Oh.” She shoves the chocolate bars behind her, rocking on the balls of her feet. “It’s you.”
Her reception is jarred, which isn’t surprising. The last time we saw each other, she fell asleep on my shoulder out by the bay. Ass numb, fingers number, I didn’t move for an hour. Shejolted awake, bleary-eyed and embarrassed. I fumbled with the words to reassure her, but before I could open my mouth, she darted away, disappearing up the incline of Robin Road.
It was by complete chance I stumbled across her, sitting glum and defeated on the bench. The smartest thing to do would’ve been to walk away and give her space, but I simply couldn’t. My conscience repelled the idea, and my legs carried me over before I knew what was happening.
Fucking magnetic.
Today, she’s happier. Well, until she saw me.
“It’s me,” I announce awkwardly, voice catching in my throat.
