Think of the Devil

Five

The bell above the convenience store door rang out as Jane pushed inside. Alberto and Angélica both looked up from their conversation, smiles already tugging at their lips. Upon seeing the state she was in, however, their faces sank.

She pretended not to notice as she pulled her headphones down to her neck, which was blaring music so loudly she couldn't hear anyone thinking anything. "Hey, guys," she greeted, brushing by the counter and into the storage closet just behind it. She immediately reached for the aspirin, swallowing the tablets down without water.

They greeted her back hesitantly, their voices quiet and unsure. She shut her eyes briefly, knowing she couldn't take too long to address them as they watched her from the counter. She reached up and powered-down her headphones, cutting the abrasive sound that echoed in the small closet. She looked back at them.

Angélica thought, (I didn't know she could get so pale. Did something happen to her?)

(--happened out there?) She cut into Alberto's thoughts. (She reeks of cigarettes. When did she start smoking again?)

"How was your walk, mija?" he tentatively asked.

Jane could feel the worry emanating off of them. Despite it, she forced a smile and attempted to keep up appearances, even if she knew they might not buy it. What else was she supposed to do? Tell them the truth? Oh, it went fine, she thought. At least until I stumbled into my dead friend's church and found out that my dead friend isn't actually dead. And he probably heard me sniveling about him the entire time. Then he ran away from me instead of letting me off the hook. Other than that, it was just peachy-keen.

"It was great!" she shouted, startling them. She cleared her throat, realizing she didn't need to be so enthusiastic. She started out of the closet, walking around the counter again. "It was actually really nice. The weather was perfect and there weren't any tourists to get in the way. It was a great suggestion. Thank you."

Their faces remained uncertain, unable to believe her overly cheery mood. Even on her best days, Jane could hardly be described as "perky." Angélica glanced at her father in doubt, and while he noticed it he ignored it. He didn't want to worry her, so instead he let Jane lie to him with an idea to discuss it later. "Good," he said slowly, "I'm happy to hear that."

"Are we still on for pizzas?" Jane barreled on, grateful for the reprieve.

Once Alberto had given up on questioning her, Angélica let her concern dissipate a bit too. Jane had made it back in one piece, and she still wanted to order pizzas, so it was good enough for her. Deep down, she felt like she knew Jane would tell her if something was actually wrong. It wrenched at Jane's heart, knowing she was exploiting that very belief in order to circumvent the truth.

"Only if you're ordering from Nonna's," Angélica answered, giving way to a small smile.

This time Jane's smile in return was genuine, if only out of relief. "Anything you want, my love."

The trio hung around the shop for the last few hours, sitting at the counter and eating their pizzas (a sausage and extra onion on thin crust for Alberto, a garlic and extra basil for the girls). They'd managed to settle into their comfortable routine, the one Jane realized she'd been missing. Thinking about it made her guilty in a way she could never explain to them.

As an objective counselor, she could diagnose her behavior. She knew she'd been experiencing a more severe feeling of grief, but given her background she felt she could forgive it. That grief manifested in bouts of depression that she hadn't experienced in some time, no doubt coupled with moderate PTSD. She could recognize her symptoms: withdrawal from friends and family, loss of focus, poor sleeping habits, using substance abuse as a coping mechanism, dissociating, lack of interest in hobbies-- or just life in general.