Coming Home

Thirty-Four

It's been an entire week since Levi left New York, and every day has become increasingly more difficult to get through ever since. After our teary goodbye at the airport, I haven't been able to bring myself to respond to a single one of his text messages or answer his calls... It simply seems to make more sense to derail the train completely instead of deluding ourselves into believing that perhaps someday we could be together again.

Levi's life is in Minnesota, and I belong in New York.

There isn't any way to give us both what we need out of a relationship without one of us having to sacrifice everything we love about our lives; it's wholly impossible. Heartbreakingly so, if I'm completely honest.

So, in the meantime, I've been trying to adjust to being entirely alone... Somehow, without Grandpa Jones and Levi, the hole that has always taken up residence within my heart has grown exponentially. Honestly, I'm afraid that whatever shards are left of the beating organ will soon wither away, as well, leaving a gaping wound in my chest that deprives me of life entirely. I try to distract myself by keeping busy and devoting my time to running the coffee shop; productivity is a great change of pace from basking in my sorrows. There's a familiarity with the routine tasks of ordering supplies, scheduling baristas, and serving breakfast during the rush that almost offers a bit of comfort. However, I'm not sure if that will ever be enough to chase away the clouds currently looming over my head.

It's like another stab to the chest, you know.

The little cafe that once brought me such profound senses of joy and accomplishment is practically unrecognizable to my eyes lately. It's as if the entire atmosphere has changed drastically in Grandpa's absence, like the very life has been sucked right out of the building and all its occupants. I'm almost positive that the customers feel it, too, especially the regulars; there's no way someone could miss it.

Regardless of how I'm feeling inside, I do my best to portray an unaffected and somewhat happy outward appearance. I smile through my pain, but I'm confident that even a blind person could see the insincerity in my features. Besides, it's practically impossible to mask the hurt in my voice, anyway.

I don't really understand what's happening to me, but... Truthfully, I don't think I've ever felt so alone before. It's like my pain, grief, and guilt are constantly rearing their heads, consuming every last ounce of positivity that could possibly emerge within me. Maybe that's normal after so many significant losses in such a short time period. Perhaps it's typical for people to feel so utterly lost that they aren't sure how to go on with their lives after losing pretty much everyone that means anything to them all at once. But I can't help but feel terrified as it eats away at me, gnawing at my very soul until I feel as if I may spontaneously burst or something.

I'm immensely aware that nothing will ever be the same again.

And in addition to all that, I miss Levi more than I could have possibly imagined. The day he left flashes in my mind as if on repeat, each time further straining the fragile shreds that are left of my heart. I know it was my decision to end whatever could have been between us, and I did it believing I was being entirely unselfish and I was making the best choice for both of us... But now?

Now, I can't help but feel as if it was a huge mistake.

With tears blurring my vision, I finish clearing the table, wiping it down with a wet rag before returning to the shop's kitchen. I don't have time to focus on such things right now; I have to keep the shop alive-- for Grandpa's sake.

"You okay, Kate?" a familiar voice asks, stealing my attention away from my thoughts. My head snaps toward the sound, my glazed eyes making contact with a concerned face as Hannah stares back at me, her lower lip caught between her teeth as if she's forcing herself not to comment on my apparent distress.

A sense of relief washes over me as I quickly discard all previous notions that had occupied my mind, choosing instead to focus on the conversation, if only for a few short minutes. I take a deep breath before answering, hoping my voice will come out steadily despite the waves of grief rolling through me. "I mean, it can't hurt like this forever, right?" I manage to reply, watching as Hannah's eyes fill with sadness at my response. Her expression makes me regret my words, but I know you can't really take things back once you've said them. Instead, I force a wobbly smile onto my lips, offering a one-shoulder shrug. "It's an adjustment that I just don't think I'm quite used to yet," I explain, turning to the sink as I unload my bin of dirtied coffee cups. "I'll get there someday. It just looks like today won't be the day."

Her response is so quiet that I hardly hear her over the whooshing sound in my ears, my blood thrumming through my veins with such speed that it almost makes my head spin. "You know, Grandpa Jones wouldn't expect you to keep it together," she murmurs, her words stopping me in my tracks. As I remain frozen in place, she continues, "He would want you to take the time you need, Kate. While we've all been affected by his passing, I know he was like family to you. And he would understand if you needed more time to heal before returning to work."

My heart squeezes in my chest, a small sob escaping me before I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle any further noises from following it. Slowly, I turn around, my gaze appreciating the genuine care expressed on Hannah's face as she looks back at me. "I know," I whisper, my head nodding along with the words. "I just... This cafe? This... Is where I feel closest to him, you know? It was such a big part of him that I just... I feel like it's where I need to be right now."

Hannah's tear-filled eyes close for a second before she steps forward, her arms wrapping around me in an unexpected hug. "I know what you mean," she mumbles against my shoulder. "And you were right; it'll get easier with time. The pain will still be there, but someday, we'll be able to think about him and smile again."