Into the Unknown

Nancy Howard - September 20, 2019

I open up the coffee shop for customers at the same time every day at six o'clock in the morning. Most of the baking I do in the evenings, so it's ready to get baking and set out when I come in at the break of dawn the next morning.

The same customers arrive on schedule practically every day of the week. They come in to get their sandwiches, coffees, teas, donuts and other pastries and goodies I make, either enjoying them at my café or taking it to-go.

On the morning of September 20th though, there's someone else who makes an appearance at the café. Normally they never stop by, so it's a surprise to see them walk on in. It's Matthew Lisbon. He comes striding in, wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans; just normal, casual clothing.

"Hi, Matthew." I say as I continue wiping off the counters.

He looks up at me. I see the tiredness in his eyes, something unexplainable. When he speaks, it's quiet and deep. "Hey Nancy. I just want a cup of joe, please."

I give him a smile of approval as he walks up to the counter, plotting himself down onto one of the bar stools.

Behind the counter, where I do most of my work, are my coffee cups. I pull one out, placing it nearly a foot from Matthew on the counter, and pour the freshly brewed dark liquid.

"Want any cream or sugar?" I ask lightly, so as not to disturb his quiet mellowness.

"No, I'm fine." He clears his throat, then takes a sip. "Hey Nancy, can I also get a cinnamon roll?"

I'm surprised to hear he wants a pastry. He never orders anything remotely like that.

Within the display are the various goodies I have. I pull out a cinnamon roll for him and bring it over.

"Can I talk with you?" He asks me.

Wiping off my hands with a towel, I say, "Yeah, sure. Of course. What do you need?"

"It's about Shelby." He pauses for a few seconds. "And Melissa."

I raise an eyebrow, curious as to what he has to say.

After hesitating a couple times between sips of coffee, he finally takes a deep breath and plunges in, ready to talk. "As you probably know, I've been staying in the hotel down the road from here since Shelby . . . you know, died." He almost whispers the word died as if someone dangerous might hear. "Being here a while and seeing first-hand how everybody lives in this town, it's weird the things I've imagined."

I give him a confusing look, which apparently causes him to explain more in depth.

"What I mean is that I've seen the way that boy William, Shelby's boyfriend, and how he acts. To me, it doesn't even seem like he's grieved once since everything happened. I mean, I heard rumors about him wanting to marry Shelby, but I just don't think they're right."

By this point, he's speaking so harshly, I almost want to back away simply from fear.

"I think he's guilty of something, Nancy. I know it." He puts his right arm wrapped around his torso. "You know that gut feeling you get when you know something isn't right?" I shake my head in an up and down motion. "Well that's what I get every time I see that boy. Something just never agrees between me and him, you know?"

Biting the inside of my cheek, I try thinking of what I should say back. Finally, it comes to me.

"Have you tried maybe . . . I don't know, talking to him . . .?"

He pulls his head in closer over the counter. "Are you crazy? There's no way in hell I'm doing that." Grasping his hands together, he pops his knuckles. The crackling sound makes my breath shutter silently. But I take a deep breath, reassuring myself that everything's alright; I'm safe.

"Well you know, Matthew, people grieve in different ways. I know my mother was always silent, never shedding a tear after her dad passed. It just depends on each person's personality." I let that settle for a second, soaking into his mind.

"But it's not the same." He uses the same harsh voice as before.

I try again this time, using his own example. "Then tell me this – why have you been staying here in Princelan when you could've gone back to where you live?"

"That's a different story. I wanted to make sure Shelby's killer was caught. But that hasn't happened yet. So as long as they're not caught and locked up, I'm not leaving this town. I also have some other personal business I've been taking care of."

He reaches into the back pocket of his pants, pulling out his wallet. Unfolding a few dollar bills, he lies them on the counter.

Just before he walks away to leave, he speaks once more.

"You know Nancy. I'd watch my back if I were you. Never know who might be next. It could be you if you're not careful." With those eerie words still echoing in the air, he then mutters something under his breath.

My body goes cold. Within me, my heart start racing. Am I next?