Page 17 of Keepsakes and Kismet

I shrug and open my eyes. “Externally, I know it’s an assumption. Internally, it feels like the truth.”

She jots down a note. “That’s really good, that you’re recognizing the difference. That gives us something to work on, doesn’t it? We’ll start there.”

We spend the rest of the session discussing techniques for separating my inner critic from reality. I pay close attention to what she’s saying, trying to absorb it. Each day, I find myself wanting it a little more. To heal.

Dr. Jain ends our session with her usual question. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’m going to the grand opening of a new smoothie shop at Globe Fitness.”

“Ah, another inspection then?”

I sit a little straighter. “No. I’m, um, just going.”

She leans forward. “Really? That’s great, Cal. Any particular reason you want to go?”

“I did a pre-open inspection there, as a courtesy for a family friend who owns it. But…” I pause, hesitant to share anything about Peyton. It’s not like I have any right discussing her in my fucking therapy appointment. We’re practically strangers. Still, I want to share this with someone, so I bring her up anyway.

“There’s this woman that I met at my inspection, and she works there—I think. Truthfully, I have no idea what she does. I don’t really even know her. But I find her kind of, well, interesting? It’s like she has this way about her that makes me want to figure out why she’s…” I fiddle with a loose thread on the couch cushion, feeling dumb for even talking about her like this. “I guess I’m not sure why I’m going.”

Dr. Jain takes her glasses off. “Maybe, while you’re there, you could strike up another conversation with this woman. It doesn’t have to be anything special, but it’s healthy to have connections outside of your family. I think this could be a great short-term goal for you.”

“Alright,” I say, though the idea of viewing a conversation with Peyton as a “goal” turns my stomach a bit—and not just due to my nerves around seeing her again. I don’t love the idea that I need to make her an objective in order to follow through. Like I can’t accomplish things in my own life without writing them down.

“Keep me posted on how it goes in our next session,” Dr. Jain instructs. “Good work today, Cal.”

Pride and anxiety war for top spot in my chest, but I nod, gather my stuff, and head out.

* * *

Kevin waves to me from behind the register, and I return his wave before continuing to scan the crowd for Peyton. Peyton. A nice name for a mysterious person who’s occupied way too much of the space between my ears over the past week.

Where is she? I could probably see Kevin’s neon pink employee T-shirt from Mars, so why haven’t I spotted her yet? Rising on my toes, I crane my neck like I’m not already taller than 99% of the people in this shop. Maybe she’s in the kitchen?

Clementine nudges me. “Why are you acting weirder than normal?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you lost a toddler at Disney World.”

My face heats. “I was just looking for someone—thing. Something.”

Clementine follows my gaze toward the register. “Someone? A person? You’re looking for a real, human person?”

“Not, um, a person. I misspoke.”

But then I see her. And Peyton’s not in a neon pink T-shirt like the rest of the employees here. She’s in the same lavender workout set she was wearing the last time I saw her. Her hair is styled in the same shiny blonde ponytail, swishing back and forth, with a few pieces framing her face. My gaze snags on those full lips that appear to always be one joke away from tilting into a grin.

Clementine mutters something to Clover—“Doesn’t look like he ‘misspoke’ to me. More like ‘Miss America,’ actually,” —but I don’t have the spoons to deal with the twins right now. I head for Peyton, who’s next in line to order, chatting with other customers. She’s gesturing animatedly and capturing everyone’s attention in an effortless way. By the time I’m close enough to hear what she’s saying, three more people have joined her circle, hanging on to her every word.

“It’s so exciting!” Peyton’s massive smile looks like it’s straight out of a toothpaste ad. “I’ve been asking for a smoothie shop for years, and I’m so happy gym ownership finally listened. I’ll definitely be coming here after every workout.”

The people surrounding her nod, saying, “me too,” and “totally.” I glare at the short and stocky gym rat that hasn’t stopped leering at every nearby woman’s breasts. I’m about to step between them and announce my presence, but Peyton reaches the front of the line first.

Kevin greets her. “Well, hi there! Welcome to Healthtopia!”

Peyton waves cheerily. “Hi! I’m really interested in a protein-rich smoothie, so the Nutty Nana sounds good. But last time I went to a smoothie shop, the nuts weren’t organic and I ended up getting sick. Where do you source your peanuts from?”

Why is she acting like she doesn’t know him?