Homecoming

03

My life with Tony was living in luxury. He came from old money and never hesitated to flaunt his wealth to those willing to be pampered, and I was more than willing to be pampered. I was treated like a spoiled trophy wife, sans complaints on my part of course. It was the kind of life I yearned for, where I never had to struggle or think ahead. It was life experienced in the moment.

In the three years we were together our life quickly fell into a pattern of party, sex, and sleep. The latter was something I undertook with great pleasure a lot more than Tony, and not once did I ever get up on my own at the ungodly hour of the morning.

So it was surprising to say the least for my body to urge me awake this early, if not a bit alarming. I willed my eyes to surrender once more to slumber, but my brain refused to co-operate.

I knew for a fact that this wasn't pre-work nerves, meaning what happened yesterday was affecting me more than I had led myself to believe. Of what little sleep I had managed, it was littered with visions of him, and they were most definitely not welcomed. I'd been running away from those memories for years.

A soft breeze stirred me out of my thoughts. Remembering why I was out here in the first place, I gripped my coffee mug tighter ready for the onslaught. Then I whistled, and a black blur came barreling around the corner of house and bounded up the porch steps. After giving Camus the affection he demanded, I gave him access to the castle.

"After you, sweet prince." I mocked a bow and the furry bastard didn't even look back.

I made one last sweeping surveillance across yard. It was one of those mornings where everything looked dull and foggy. The perfect setting for a movie where a mysterious man stumbled up the long driveway looking for shelter, and the alarm bells were ringing in your head, yet you let him in anyways. I supposed what I was trying to say was that it felt ominous. And I didn't like it one bit.

 

The shift started off mundane enough, but when the steady stream of customers started at 4 o'clock, I became restless. Cavanaugh's Bar & Grill had been the happening place for us in our younger days, and that hadn't changed in all these years.

"I can't believe this is still the after school hang-out after all these years." I laughed nervously, watching another group of teenagers enter the restaurant.

"Everyone is welcome as long they don't cause trouble and pay. It's better that they're here than out there doing god knows what." Rosie huffed as she deposited another basket of linen napkins behind me. I didn't think I would ever master folding linen napkins, but I considered myself a pro after three baskets.

The number of raucous teenagers easily surpassed their adult counterpart. Every loud outburst from their table had me on alert; my eyes darted from the large windows overlooking the parking lot to every entrance and exit. My restlessness had nothing to do with the rowdy rascals themselves. No, it had started when I laid my eyes on the reservation book.

K. Danford - 12 Guests - 6pm

It took all my might to remain calm and do my job properly, but as the hour drew nearer I became more and more like a paranoid cat cornered in an alley. The phrase gotta get out of here scrolled through my head like a news ticker the entire time, but my shift didn't end until six thirty. I had to compromise lunch to get out thirty minutes earlier. Luckily for me, Rosie agreed with no questions asked.

A little mishap in the kitchen had the cook enlist my help so I didn't get out the employee back door until quarter to six. The second I stepped out and breathed in the fresh air, I felt free. The building tension in my body for the past seven hours melted in an instant. I sauntered to my car, and I took a moment to revel in my little victory by resting my forehead on the cool roof of my car.

I was a social smoker but right then, "I could kill for a cigarette."

"I never took you for a killer, Greenwood."

"Fuck!" I hissed when my elbow hit the side view mirror, and If I could, I would've leaped on top of the car. The hair on my arms and neck bristled upon hearing his voice. I should have known better than to let my guard down.

"Or a smoker for that matter."

I couldn't move nor speak. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity until he stepped forward with his arms up for a greeting hug. I clutched the sweatshirt I'd been carrying tighter to my chest and plastered myself against my car.

He frowned and let his arms dropped to his sides. The silence ensued, and I remembered to take a breath. All I wanted to do was to disappear.

"So you really are home." He murmured to himself as a confirmation, then he looked back up at me. "You've been doing alright, Verne?"

I nodded.

"I'm glad I caught you. I didn't believe the rumors myself when I heard you were back until Rosie mentioned that I just missed you…"

"Rumors? Which one did you hear?" I asked before I could stop myself. I didn't plan on talking to him, ever. If he noticed me cringing, he didn't let on.

"That you got some girl pregnant so you're in hiding." He was holding back his laughter, which I must admit I was too. While I could laugh all I want at such a ridiculous rumor at my expense, considering my sexual orientation, he didn't have the right. He gave up that right, so I shot him an angry glare. But reason number six had definitely become the new favorite.

"I have to get back in there." He motioned with his thumb over his shoulder. "Company outing—I'm playing big boss today."

A car drove past us, breaking our silent stare contest. I nodded and proceeded to get in my car.

"Listen, we should get together to catch up—"

"Are you fucking nuts?!" I flinched at how loud my voice seemed to echo in the parking lot.

Where that little show of bravado came from I wouldn't know, but I regretted it as soon as those words left my mouth. Painful heartbreak aside, he didn't deserve any of my anger. We were both assholes due to youthful indiscretions, and as shitty as those decisions were, we're even in that department.

"Wow. I knew we didn't exactly have a clean break, but I'm sure it doesn't warrant this sort of reaction. Look, can't we just start over, as friends. We were friends before … everything."

My hands shook, fumbling with my keys to unlock my car. But I didn't miss the flicker of sting in his eyes.

"Verne—"

The rumbling engine muted his voice, and I didn't spare a glance back at him as I peeled out of the parking lot. I wanted to forget his face, his voice, and the lopsided smirks he unknowingly makes while he talks. I just wanted to go home and forget everything.

 

I listened to my parents' laughter while I schooled my face outside the kitchen door. I didn't want another helping of fuck-up in our otherwise already full plate. And the last thing I wanted to deal with was mom's nagging. Camus scampered to the door, the clinking of his tags alerted them of my return. I had planned to sneak past the living room.

My dad craned his neck from his chair to the kitchen, and checked his watch. "You're back a bit early."

"Yeah, I made a deal with Rosie. I get out thirty minutes early if I skip lunch."

"Well that's a stupid thing to do. You need to eat lunch." Mom rose and made her way in to the kitchen. "Are you hungry? There are pork chops in the oven, but I can make you something now. What would you like to eat?"

"No mom. I'm kind of beat. Going to take a shower and take a nap first."

"Okay." She sat back down, but her stare never left me. She always could tell if something was bothering me.