Page 32 of Christmas Coffee

Nova

Gah. When I get back to the hut, Celyn is flirting, full wattage with some woman. I don’t care. Correction, I shouldn’t care. He’s not mine. We’re not together. It shouldn’t spark an ember of anger inside of me that’s swiftly turning into an inferno. The only way I know to hide it is to go on autopilot, so that’s what I do. I move knowing the people are there, I don’t ignore them, but I don’t engage either. My walls rise up, blocking out any emotional distress within me. I listen to their conversation, irritated that he’d pick her. He doesn’t have to date me, hell he doesn’t have to sleep with me, but her? Really? She’s a mean girl on crack. Her vibes were all quick tendrils and spider quick reflexes. The woman is poison. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do, after living with him, I know too much about people like that.

Memories boil below the surface and I’m thrown back seven years. The past threatens to consume me as the echoes of the voice pulse through my memory. I shove them into the furthest recess of my mind and hold them there. I’ll never see that man’s face, never feel the sting of the back of his hand, again. To this day, Tinselly thinks that was the worst of it, but there was more. Things she doesn’t know. But I can recognize his evil kindred soul when I see it—when I see her. The brunette wants more than a tryst with Celyn.

I say nothing and move about the tiny kitchen, brushing into Celyn and Shannon as I wipe off the counter and then kneel down to pull out my bag from where it’s wedged under the counter, held in place by Celyn’s briefcase.

When I wrench it free, I stand and say, “My shift is over. I’m heading out.”

Shannon snorts and continues to do nothing by the counter. Great hire. He’s the poster boy employee. He glances at his watch, and wipes cookie crumbs from his mouth. When did he eat a cookie? “Hey, I can clock out too, right?”

My hands find my hips. My purse was around my wrist and slams into my ankle when I give him the ‘are you kidding me?’ pose. “You’re shift is over when the boss says you can go, and since I clocked out, ask Celyn. See you tomorrow.” I turn to the door and exit. My steps are light as I bounce down the icy steps and across the parking lot to my car but my heart feels like a stone in my chest.

When I get inside the old beast, I tip my head back and close my eyes. It’s only a few weeks. I can put up with this guy for a few weeks.

I straighten, grab my keys from my trough of a purse, and slip them into the ignition. The car sputters to life, obviously detesting the cold. I can practically hear the engine promise to curse me from its cold metal bones.

No wonder Celyn thought I was lying about my experience. It’s odd, I know. I graduated high school at fifteen and got the hell away from my family—and him. My childhood was erased by a prick that swore to any deity he could name, that he loved my mother with all his heart. I can still hear his voice in the back of my mind. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise and my stomach twist with anxiety.

I need comfort food. Badly. I know I’m broke, but I pull my emergency gas cash from the special spot in the glovebox and throw the car into gear. McDonald’s, here I come.

After I get my fries and cheeseburger and tiny diet Coke, I pull into a slot at the back of the parking lot and put my windows down. The cold air rolls into the car. I inhale deeply and unwrap the burger. I pinch off a bite and pop it into my mouth, then another. I stare blankly out the window, watching silver sea gulls swoop and peck crumbs from the frozen cement. Their shrill cries fill my ears as I pop another bite into my mouth.

I’m lost in the past, caught between a happy memory and a horrific one. We were young, barely teens. Tinselly and me would walk to McDonald’s which was a little far from the house for two kids to travel by foot. Mom was at work and he was at home. Tinselly took me out before something could happen. Again. She sensed the powder keg long before I realized what was happening. She made our meal last longer by making it a game to see who could take the most bites. Instead of chomping the food, she ripped off a tiny piece and popped it in her mouth. Tinselly’s voice was kind and she tried so hard to make me laugh and keep me safe.

I blink and come back to the present. I’m resting my arm, hand holding the burger, on the door by the open window. I rock the sandwich between my forefinger and thumb. I was watching the meat wiggle back and forth, staring at the quivering bun, ready for the rest of the memory to slam into me. But that’s not what happens. Before I’m completely lucid, there’s a shrill caw and a gray wingspan bitchslaps the side of my face with a feathery wing. It lunges for my meal, and misses, careening off the side of the car and righting itself in the air. My heart slams into my ribs as all the air gets sucked from my lungs in a wild scream.

I stupidly think it’s over and don’t look the other way until it’s too late. Another gull speeds toward me, ducks through the passenger window and lunges for the fry in my other hand. I scream as it’s maw snaps at my fingers and the food goes flying. Apparently that was a stupid thing to do because then every other seagull in the area swarms my car. Since I have a bird on my lap and I haven’t stopped screeching, and I’m still being beaten by its massive wings, I shove open the car door and fall outside.

There are always three. Where’s the third one? Bad things happen in threes. It’s just the way it is. A third bird is waiting somewhere nearby, plotting.

I stagger through the swarm of feathers and away from my dinner. I put some distance between me and the feeding frenzy so that I’m no longer being smacked by random bird limbs and stagger to a stop. I bend forward, hands wrapped around my middle, and try not to cry as my comfort food is devoured by flying rats.

I wipe a tear that’s about to fall from my eye with the back of my hand. When I glance up, there’s a nice car stopped across from me. I frown at it. Is that a McLaren? There’s a glare on the windshield so I can’t see the driver until he steps out of the car. Celyn.

He’s trying not to laugh and represses a smile with such difficulty that his face is strung tight. “Are you all right?”

I feel my bottom lip still sticking out as tears threaten to fall. I won’t cry in front of him. I don’t care if he saw me ravaged by birds. Laugh it off, Nova. Act like it doesn’t matter. Everything’s a fucking act from birth through the grave. I laugh, meaning for it to sound light, but it’s coated in darkness. I step on one foot, putting all my weight on it, and then the other. The dark laughter continues as I pace toward him. I don’t stop until I’m close enough to shove my finger into his chest. I part my lips to say something, but he lifts a hand and plucks something from my hair. He raises an eyebrow and then shows it to me. A feather.

I can’t help it. I smile. Then he smiles. I start laughing, and then finally manage, “That had to look insanely funny.”

He’s still trying to hold in his chortle. “It did. Are you all right?”

“Yes, the birds are the least of my problems.” I laugh again and feel the lightness restore within me. That hollowed out dark spot fills with giggles. I keep my eyes away from his, my gaze toward the ground. “That kind of thing happens to me all the time.”

“There’s no way.” He sounds shocked. He glances at the swarm of birds like they might devour my rusty Honda too. “I’ve never seen that happen to anyone. Ever.”

“It’s because you hadn’t met me yet. Animals love me, but the feeling isn’t exactly reciprocal. Actually, birds freak me out a bit.” I glance at the car and shiver.

Celyn folds his arms across his chest, and nods slowly. “I can see why. Let me buy you another hamburger. You look like you need it.” He lets me save face, doesn’t mention the sheen in my eyes.

I consider it for a second, but then wonder what he’s doing here, how he found me. “So, are you stalking me? I swear, Celyn. One day and I already need to see about a restraining order. What’s that all about?” I wipe at my eye, removing an unshed tear.

He grins and holds up my phone. “This is yours. I’m hoping you have mine.”

I frown and glance back at my car. “I’m sorry. How the hell did that happen?” I walk over to the heap of metal and lean in after the last of the birds cleared out. I forgot the short skirt and promptly crouch so I don’t flash anyone. Celyn was too close to see, at least I think he is—I feel heat radiating off of him as if he’s a foot behind me, and then over my head. I pull an iPhone from my bag and flip it over. It’s not mine. There’s no huge gouge in the corner where I dropped mine on asphalt. That phone is the only remnant that I was once successful and I lost it.

I didn’t get the shiny new car or the company. Ben took those things. I got out maneuvered and never saw it coming. I walked away from a three-year relationship with a bucket of bolts that barely runs and a gouged iPhone.