Burning Desires

Chapter 5 : The Bachelor

   
Denver, November 24, 2016

    Thursday

    Elysia Rosalie Lockwood

"Will you be okay if I head out? My mom just left Isobel so I don't want to leave her alone for too long." I wave Maggie off with a smile on my face. It's been fun working with her today. She holds her black leather jacket in one hand and she's let down her long red curls.

"Go, go. I'm fine here. I'll lock up soon." I assure her.

"You're a life saver. Have a good night, I'll see you Monday!" I wave to her as she leaves and then I finish sweeping the floors. I enjoy the cafè much more at night, when there's no one here and the only thing for sound is the humming of a washing machine in the back. I love this job because it forces me to interact with people all day and I think that's good for my anxiety ridden soul, but I also love to be left alone. I appreciate this time to myself in here. In my comfort zone. I suppose, like my mother, I should be petrified to be alone. I remember when I used to be all the time, I wouldn't even sleep alone Mason would have to stay with me and when I found him gone during the night I'd get scared all over again. I broke that co-dependency in my early teenage years when we had to spend time apart. I had went away to camp and again when I went away for the all year long private school.

I wipe all the tables and place the chairs ontop of them to mop. I need to get back to the gym I've missed a few sessions with my Krav Maga instructor, Tyson. Succumbing to strep halted my entire life. I feel too lazy and relaxed when usually my life's hectic and fast-paced. Typically, I'm sore from workouts or tired from working. Learning self defense and knowing how to fight for myself is a must and eases my anxiety exponentially. I figure maybe that's why I've been having nightmares and why my anxiety has been acting up so much lately, because I haven't gotten to release all that productively.

   After mopping I place the chairs back on the floor then I open the cash register and take out the drawer, beginning to count the bills. When I hear the bells above the door I glance up and come face-to-face with an older man. Mid-forties. He's dressed down in jeans and a black sweater. I don't know why, but he gives me the creeps. He stands at the door, staring at me. He's covered in filth, and exhaustion pulls at his eyes. Crows feet etch them, bags make him look weary.

"Uh-, sorry, Sir. We're closed." Nothing. My heart beats as fear courses through my body. My fight or flight instincts not yet activating. I don't want him to be on edge, but that's hard when I, myself, am. I swallow the fear. His eyes are dark and droopy from drinking, his dull frown making me feel almost sorry for the man.

That's right. He's just a man, Elysia. I tell myself. Just a man. Right.

"I can give you a cup of coffee to-go." I offer sweetly as he eyes me up and down like I'm in some filthy magazine. I hurry and stash away the cash.

"I'd rather sit." He counteroffers, his voice gruff almost lifeless. I nod frantically, my eyes wide and watching his every move. I have mace and a switchblade in my satchel but it's in my locker. Crap!

He takes a seat at the breakfast bar and stares at me like I'm supposed to know what he wants. He has brown eyes, and a growing beard that I can tell is dirty even from over the counter. My palms are clammy and I'm slightly shaking. My anxiety courses full throttle throughout my entire body and I have to push myself, will myself to continue and not shut down.