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My heart surges and I pick up speed, running toward the man. But, by the time I get back to everyone, the man is gone and I’m wondering if I imagined him.
Richard Sullivan walks over to me. We’d been reintroduced at Sunny’s farmhouse and I’m pleased to say that he now knows me as more than just ‘Cullen’s girlfriend’.
“Ms. Davis, are you okay?” Richard Sullivan asks, his eyes filled with brotherly concern.
“Yeah, I…” I shake my head. “I think I just saw Cullen for a second.”
“Yes, it does feel like Cullen’s here with us,” Richard Sullivan says, lifting his face to the wind and taking a deep breath. His blissful expression seems to be saying ‘Cullen is here in the trees and in the sky’.
But I know what I saw and that wasn’t a spirit or a hallucination. The man wore a beanie and had the same height and build as Cullen.
“You’re seeing things,” mom tells me later that week when I finally break down and admit what happened. “You want Cullen to be alive so badly that you’re projecting.”
“But he wore a beanie!” I insist.
“Nardi, I’ve been in America for a couple months, and let me tell you something I’ve noticed. A lot of Americans wear beans. Grey beans. Black beans?—”
“Notbeans, mom. Bean-ies.”
“That’s what I said.”
“This time I’msureof what I saw.”
“Nardi, it’s only been four months since he passed on. Of course you still miss him. Some wounds take time to heal.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and tug on the memory of what I saw at the airstrip. Maybe I need to get some external help. Should I contact Darrel and get a psych evaluation?
Mom clears her throat. “By the way, I ran into that handsome Nigerian-Belizean man at the mart again. I found out he’s single.”
“Not interested, mom.” I groan.
“He runs a restaurant of his own.”
My eyes pop open.
“Yeah, I knew you’d care about that,” mom laughs. “He shops for his own ingredients. That’s why he was at the mart. He says he doesn’t sell Belizean food though. He sells African cuisine, but it’s close enough.”
My interest is piqued. I’ve been meaning to chat with someone about running a restaurant. Although I’m not ready to make the leap into full-fledged dining, I’m opening a catering business which is a nice in between point.
It’s tempting, but I shake my head. “I’m not interested, mom. If I want to find a restauranteur to talk to, I can ask Sunny or one of the other farmhouse ladies to introduce me. They know everyone in the city.”
I walk away, hoping that the matter ends there. But mom is insistent. After two straight months of her hounding me, I cave.
“Fine,” I sigh. “Since this guy issoawesome. I’ll meet himonce.”
Mom hops to her feet and immediately presses numbers on her phone. “I’ll call him right away. You can’t change your mind.” She points an accusing finger as she hurries to make the call in her room.
I shake my head and adjust the laptop on my lap. I’m sending all the food stall expenses to Whitaker so he can help me come up with a proper budget for the catering business.
“What the…!” Josiah’s voice rings from the computer room.
Thinking something horrible happened, I toss my laptop in the sofa and barrel toward my brother. Thankfully, the computer room doesn’t have a door, but I almost stumble while taking the step down.
Josiah swings around to look at me. He hasn’t changed the ratty old chair that Cullen owned, though I offered. He said sitting in it helps him think like Cullen.
“What’s wrong? Where’s the fire?” I ask, my head whipping back and forth.
“Nardi, look at this.” Josiah beckons me forward.