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It’s memories that hold me back,
The visions of yesterday.
Back when we were so happy,
And our faith did not yet stray.
“Thanks for meeting me here.”
“No problem,” Jake responds with a charming smile as he sits down across the booth.
We’re back at Brew Madison and not the café closer to Jake’s place. It’s “my place,” but it feels different. Everything feels a bit different now. Nothing feels like it did once; that feeling of being home isn’t the same without Evan.
“Tired of the chai?” he asks, and I have to laugh.
“No, it’s just that Jules, my friend who I’m staying with for a bit, wanted to meet across the street after we’re done, so I asked her driver bring me here.”
“Ah, gotcha. What are you guys going to do?” His question is casual as he looks up at the menu across the wall. It’s a large black chalkboard with all their drinks written in elegant flowing script. I’m pretty sure it’s not actually handwritten, but I could be wrong.
“The chai is better at your place,” I tell him and snag my caffeine-free pumpkin spice coffee from off the small table. Apparently, Maddie’s tastes have rubbed off on me. Either that or the baby has ruined my taste buds and given me a temporary sweet tooth.
He chuckles as I take a large gulp then tell him, “I think we’re getting dinner at a little Italian place Jules loves. Or maybe heading to the new bar below the hotel a few blocks over.” I shrug and add, “She hasn’t decided yet, but it’s girls’ night, so we’re doing something.”
He lays his coat over the back of his chair as he stands. “I’m going to go with straight black coffee.”
“Oh?” I ask him. “Is it one of those days?”
“You tell me,” he responds and instantly my smile falls. It’s been a week since Henry died and each day is worse than “one of those days.” They blur together and time has flown by, but somehow, it’s only been a week.
“Give me a sec?” he asks me before leaving, as if he’s checking on my well-being, gripping the back of the chair. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
My fingers play at the edge of my coffee cup. I wore lipstick today and the outline of my lips mars the white rim.
There’s a statistic I read once about how lipstick sales and alcohol sales both go up during depressions, while sales for everything else plummet.
The alcohol … well, you drink when you’re happy and you drink when you’re sad.
The lipstick is because in hard times, we just want to feel special, pretty. We want to feel like we’re worth it. As in, if we look pretty and put together, then maybe we can be.
I need to buy more lipstick, I think.
It only takes a moment of me checking my phone before he’s back with a brighter spirit and the robust smell of fresh black coffee joining him from the cup in his hand. “So, what’s going on?”
“Wow, that was fast,” I say to stall a moment longer.
“I’d rate them an A-plus for the service. I’ll have to admit that,” he answers with a pleasant smile.
I give him a soft one in return, but I can feel it breaking down as I try to formulate an answer to his question.
“Evan’s father died.” The truth rushes out and my expression crumples regardless of how hard I’m trying to keep it in place.
“Shit,” Jake murmurs beneath his breath as I desperately work to maintain my composure. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” I answer in a choked voice, refusing to cry again. “I’m dealing with it. It’s not the first time I’ve lost a family member, but it still hurts.”
“What happened?”
“It was sudden. He had a blood clot that traveled to his lungs.” As I pick up a napkin from the table and blot under my eyes, I remember the doctor’s voice and how calmly he spoke. My lashes graze the napkin as I blink and it comes back black.