Page 3 of The Air You Breathe

“I think that can wait another day hon, you need to go home, take a bath and try these new chai macarons I’m playing around with.” Mary took my clipboard and replaced it with a box of macarons. My mouth watered instantly, and I knew they were going to be delicious.

“I can do that when I leave at three and we drive back together,” I said, giving her a pointed look.

“Oh, I can get Warren to drive me home,” she said like it was common knowledge.

“Don’t you hate…”

“No, child, leave now, before I decide I’m going to do the books myself,” Mary threatened, and I listened. She was awful with numbers, cleaning up her mess was a nightmare that I wanted to avoid.

“Ok, I’m leaving,” I said, going to the back to get my things.

“I think we need to look for some help again,” she said, peeking outside to make sure we didn’t miss anyone.

“I know, we need a person up front and someone back here to help you.” I mentioned a helper for her because for years she had been stubborn and refused help, but Mary wasn’t getting any younger and I know all of these early mornings must be so hard for her.

“Hon, you know I don’t need someone to help me. I’m just fine and I love doing this…alone.” She emphasized the alone part.

I rolled my eyes. “I know you like doing this alone, but you work seven days a week sometimes and you’re no spring chicken anymore,” I teased.

“I’m only forty-one years old, I am a summer chicken.” She glared at me.

I laughed. Teasing her about her age was always my favorite. She also looked like she was still in her thirties, but I knew doing this by herself for all these years had to take a toll on her. Before I came to help her, she did everything by herself.

“Ok, fine but imagine being able to take a vacation or not come in and worry about all the pastries you have to make,” I said, giving her a hug.

“It’s not like I have anyone at home for me anyways. This coffee shop is like my child and there is no place I’d rather be.” She kissed my cheek, pulling away to hold my face in her hands. “You, on the other hand, need to get away so you can live your life, and be a normal thirty year old.”

I rolled my eyes at her because she knew damn well I was only twenty-seven. Mary had always said I was an old soul, but I needed to get out, live my life and experience everything life had to offer. I didn’t know what experiences she was talking about because in this small town there wasn’t much to do. Monroe did have a Target and that was probably the only life experience I needed.

“I do live my life, I just went out with the new girl Jane,” I said, a little defensively.

“The girl from Texas? I hear she’s ensnared those contractor boys. Aiden, Callum and Nathan come in quite often, in hopes to catch her.” She looked amused. “See you need something like that, a few boys to show you a good time.”

“Mary! First of all, how do you know that she’s ensnared them? Second of all, are you suggesting I find a group of men to show me a good time?” I asked, worried about what she was going to tell me.

“Oh child, they look at her like she hangs the moon and stars for them, especially Nathan. Poor boy has no poker face with that girl.” Mary smiled. “And yes I am saying go find you some men or women who will show you a good time. You need to make up for some lost time.”

“Mary!”

She cackled because she knew I kept my lips sealed when it came to my sex life. “You just need some good sex–”

“Ok! I’m leaving! Bye!” I grabbed my purse leaving out the back as quickly as I could because I didn’t need to talk about my non-existent sex life with a woman who I saw as a mother figure.

She cackled again as the door closed, making me smile. That woman was crazy but she was an amazing person who was there for me for most of my childhood.

I grew up with parents who saw me as more of a nuisance than their baby girl. My father was a millionaire's son sent to Mountain View to clean up his act with his uncle. My mom was a high school dropout who worked at the diner my father liked to eat at.

They had me when they were eighteen and seventeen, then got married and played house for a few years until they both got tired of it. When my father got his inheritance, that was it.

I was left alone most of the time since I was in middle school. They preferred dinner parties and social events in the surrounding areas until I was in high school when they were gone for longer periods of time. My senior year is when my parents finally let it slip that they had moved to LA. After I graduated, I got a standardized Christmas card with money. It had been years since I had seen them and I was ok with that.

My uncle—my mom’s brother—lived in the area, we’ve never been particularly close but he does still check on me from time to time. I see him around town with his grandchildren, who are absolutely adorable, or when he was on duty for the Mountain View PD.

Mary had been a better parent to me, spending my holidays with her was so much better. I think I also fulfilled that desire to have kids for her. I’ve always encouraged her to try a dating app, but she brushes me off saying no one wants to deal with her and her crazy schedule. I will agree with her on that, our work schedule made it difficult to date, but don't get me started on trying to date in a small town.

I threw my stuff into the front seat of the car, feeling the morning catching up to me; I was exhausted. Mary’s advice sounded perfect. A bubble bath, a good romance book and some macarons sounded great. It was a short drive to my house that was left to me by my parents. It was a modest bungalow that most people would think was small, but it was perfect for me. I had updated it a little here and there; it also helped that I knew a contractor.

I stripped on my way to the tub, leaving clothes on the floor as I went down the hall to the master bedroom; perks of living on my own. Walking to my beautifully renovated bathroom, I turned on the water and plugged up my gorgeous claw foot tub. While the tub filled up, I grabbed a book, a random sweatshirt and some leggings. I laid out all of my things on the counter when I noticed I picked out a Monroe University sweatshirt.

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