Unfinished Business

13

The following morning after my huge outburst with Wyatt, I woke up in an abnormally positive mood. My chest doesn't feel as heavy, and it's not as much of an effort to drag myself to the bathroom to get ready for the day. For the first time in a while, I feel light. I feel rejuvenated.

It doesn't last for long when a huge thud echoes down the hall. Loretta should already be at The Starlighter by now, so who the hell is it?

My heart leaps into my throat before I quickly move into motion. The closest thing near me is an antique glass rooster sitting on the edge of the vanity. It's not much of a weapon, but if shattered, I could use the glass pieces, right? God, I really should have taken those martial arts classes my dad always suggested me to try when I was little.

The wooden floors groan under my weight, and I wince as I continue padding my way past three doors. A streamline of cussing follows underneath the door, Lorreta's cussing. I immediately let out a frustrated sigh, dropping the rooster to my side as I push the door open, only to freeze when she's face down on the floor.

"Oh my god." I fall to my knees beside her and roll her on her back. "What happened?"

"It's nothin," she mutters, but her eyes wince as she speaks. I never noticed before, but she's aged quite a bit since the last time I've seen her. Wrinkles line her face, tiredness showing in her eyes. On her back she looks weak. Vulnerable. A state I've never seen her in before. "I just had a fall. The damn rug got twisted up."

I glance beside her to a perfectly placed rug, furrowing my eyebrows together in confusion. "You're sweating," I say, running my eyes over her shiny face. Then I finally pay attention to the room around us.

The boxes that were littering the sewing room are gone. New paint is on the walls, and a brand new sewing machine sits idly in the box in the middle of the room. The dust is gone and sunlight floods in through the bay window behind a brand new work table. "Loretta, what did you do?"

She waves me away from her and sits up, clutching her elbow to her chest. "I know you used to love makin clothes and such in high school, so I cleaned up the room. Doesn't matter now, does it? Since yer leavin and all."

Bitterness is laced within her voice, a pang of guilt stabbing me in the heart. She offered me a place to stay, a way to get me back on my feet, and I let my relationship with Wyatt get in the way of this opportunity for myself.

"About that..." I sigh and look around the room, blinking away tears from the sweet gesture. "Wyatt and I talked last night, and he brought me home. He agreed to try and be friends...so...I'd like to stay. And I'd like to continue being a waitress at The Starlighter if that's okay with you."

She grunts her approval. "At least he finally got his head out of his ass. Like I said, I need the help, but don't walk out on me again on a Friday. You know how it gets there. It's busy as hell."

I nod and help her to her feet. My lips are twitching, threatening a smile, which only makes her narrow her eyes. "Well, come on," she urges. "Out with it."

"Nothing." I shake my head again, but eventually point to the new sewing machine. "You're not as mean as everyone says you are, you know. I think past that cold exterior there's a kind-hearted woman. Otherwise, you wouldn't have made me this incredible work space, which is breathtaking, by the way. I don't know how I can ever thank you."

"It was nothin. It needed to be cleaned up in here, anyway. Just don't make me regret it. Put it to good use."

Cabinets line the walls with what looks to be buckets filled with yarn, drawers labeled with different fabric. It must have been ridiculously expensive to stock all of these supplies, but I don't have the heart to tell her that I haven't been inspired to make anything since I was in high school. Every design I drew and brought to life looked like shit. My heart wasn't in it, and I couldn't ever figure out why. Maybe that's the reason I never made it in the real world.