Page 7 of Pieces of Heaven

Except the woman is real. She writes the daily special on a chalkboard sign—vanilla cupcakes and Italian subs. I look around and wonder who she expects to see the sign. This road is just outside the main part of town, but it’s rural and unused.

I duck back into the woods when her attention turns to the space around her. She scans the road, seeming defeated. If this new coffee shop belongs to her, I can understand why she’d lose all hope. Nothing survives in that shopping strip. Even the locksmith next door is on his way out.

The woman’s sad expression digs into my heart and makes me feel responsible. I fight the urge to help her. I can’t be involving myself in other people’s drama.

I long ago accepted how I belonged to McMurdo Valley. The land owns my heart in a way people can’t. Though I’ll suffer for my younger sister and the club, everyone else can figure shit out on their own.

So, I force myself to walk away when she goes inside. For hours, I wander around the woods, fighting the urge to see her again. As I sit my ass on an old stump, I imagine how easily I could walk inside the coffee shop and order a cup. Nothing more complicated than that. Just meet the woman who’s owned my thoughts for days. She won’t think anything of it. Hell, she’ll no doubt be happy for the business.

Or she’ll get scared at the sight of me.I stopped trying to charm anyone a decade ago. What can I say to a pretty woman anyway? Do I really want to replace the sadness in her eyes with fear of a terrifying man?

No matter how rough I’ve become over the last few years, I sense her rejection will still bruise my ego. I’ve gotten myself all wrapped up in the idea of knowing her.

Not romance. No, I’ve got zero use for dating or a girlfriend. But I can spend time with her, maybe fix a few of her problems, and get to see her up close. No harm in such a small plan.

Walking inside that shop, I don’t know what to expect. The woman has always been far away. I can’t be sure my mind hasn’t filled in the blanks with a loveliness that no real woman can possess.

Entering the shop, I find it empty. I stand at the doorway while a folksy song plays overhead. Anyone else might get spooked and walk away. I’m not so easily rattled, so I stand for another minute until she pops up from behind the counter.

I don’t need her to explain what she was doing back there. Her eyes and upper cheeks are pink from crying. Her expression upon seeing me shifts from surprise to fear to curiosity.

Xenia is more beautiful up close. Her stormy gray eyes warm as we talk. A smile lingers along her dark pink lips. Her tanned skin barely hides the pales freckles underneath.

I feel her wanting to savor this moment. She exhales loneliness in a way that’s not particularly safe in a world filled with shady people.

I get the sense she thinks I’m homeless or broke. She doesn’t mention prices. Maybe she’s loaded and doesn’t care about her failing business. Except I don’t think that’s right. Even worried about money, she figures feeding a homeless guy is worth the price of keeping me around.

I consider asking questions. I nearly order a sandwich and put up my feet for a while. Why can’t we just talk? She isn’t busy. I’ve got nowhere to be.

Except the longer her gaze remains on me, the more unsure I am about myself. I get the terrible urge to impress this woman.

Last year, Kourtney started asking me to join her at parties and on her Aspen ski trip. I figured she was getting nostalgic about family. Or she really wanted to seal the deal with her new man by showing up with kin. Whatever her reasoning, I knew I couldn’t fit in her world.

I remember how much Kourtney cried when people made fun of her for being dirty or poor. By eleven, she’d get up early to go to a nearby gas station. The owner let her clean up in his bathroom if she would sweep around the front before school. My sister wanted to be pretty and normal so badly.

Education offered Kourtney options. She worked her ass off at college and in law school. Got rich from working for the club and other shady clients. Over the years, Kourtney transformed herself into the person she wanted to be as a kid. All while I remained the same guy I’d always been.

To try to fit in to Kourtney’s life, I recently cleaned myself up. Got a haircut and spent a fortunate at the dentist. I tried to seem like a safer kind of rough asshole, so Kourtney could bring me around her fancy boyfriend and friends. I never cared about impressing them as much as making Kourtney happy.

With Xenia, I do care if she finds me appealing. I’ve already got myself wound up on this woman.

I’m no fool. I accept the slim chance of us doing anything more than sharing friendly chitchat. Xenia is a normal woman, looking to live a normal life. I don’t know why she came to McMurdo Valley or what she hopes to find here. I just understand how I won’t be enough.

Unable to change for her any more than I did for my club, I don’t linger in the coffee shop. I got what I wanted by entering. I know her name, saw her up close, and understand her situation.

I’ll fix some things—punish that realtor, get my people to spend money at the coffee shop, and try to keep her business from closing.

However, I won’t fool myself into thinking this pretty, sad woman and I are capable of anything more than sharing a space for a few minutes at a time.

Xenia’s like Kourtney. They need certain things to be happy, and my wild life will never offer enough.

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