The Time Traveling Matchmaker

Once upon a time, I believed in happily ever after.

Now I only believed in after.

After summer. After film school. After breakfast. After yoga. After my break.

The line this morning at the Mud Hut stretched from the counter to the doorway. As I stood behind the bar, my mind traveled over the familiar faces. Past the “double mocha, hold the whip,” over the “vanilla latte, extra hot,” beyond the “tall drip of the day,” and into a future where I wasn’t making drink orders and wearing a forced smile.

Into a future where I was doing something important, making a difference. That place had to be out there somewhere.

“You’re doing it again.” Kyle’s voice knocked at the periphery of my thoughts.

When I finally looked at him, he nodded at the empty cups lined up on the counter. I picked up the first one, forcing myself to stop daydreaming.

“C’mon, Jess.” Kyle stared at me with those serious eyes of his. Eyes that really should be illegal on a guy you weren’t ever going to sleep with. “We both know David was a complete jerk. Besides, you’re too good for him, anyway.”

Choosing not to answer, I read the scribbled instructions on the side and concentrated on making a soy latte.

As I placed the lid on the cup, I got a whiff of something strong, a smell that wasn’t normally in the place. It reminded me of freshly squeezed lemon juice, but not quite. And it was sort of musky, but that wasn’t it either.

“I’m just worried about you, that’s all,” Kyle said.

“I’ll be…” I stumbled sideways, grabbing onto the counter. The room steadied beneath my feet.

Kyle squeezed my arm. “Do you need your inhaler? Is it in your locker?”

I shook my head. This wasn’t an asthma attack. Of that I was sure. I felt jittery as if I’d been given a shot of caffeine into my veins, but my breathing was clear.

“Jessica?” The voice came at me deep and rich, like a cup of espresso.

I looked up. A strange guy in a trench coat stood beside me. It took me a second to realize he was offering me a bottle of sparkling water. He stared directly into my eyes. The blueness of his was almost translucent, mesmerizing. I looked away first, wishing I hadn’t. The water sloshed back and forth in the bottle, but his hands were perfectly still.

I was the one shaking.

“Jessica,” he repeated, and the fullness of his voice lifted me out of my confusion. But I couldn’t say anything. My words sat stubbornly at the back of my throat.

Customers usually registered into my mind the minute they walked in the door. No matter how busy, a quick glance told me he/she/they, a suit, jogger, mom, retired couple. Not only had this guy appeared out of nowhere, I couldn’t put a label on him.

Kyle took the water from the stranger and set it on the counter. “Thank you. But I don’t think this is what she needs.”

How could Kyle know what I needed? I didn’t even know myself.

Trench Coat’s piercing gaze sent a rippling effect down my spine. Before I could speak, he turned away.

“You should go sit down,” Kyle said. “You don’t look right.”

I took a deep, clear breath, pressing my palm against my throat. “Where’d he go?” The minute I asked, I saw him in the corner of The Mud Hut, at the table closest to the restrooms.

“And please don’t life coach me, Kyle,” I said.

His eyebrows dipped downward over his eyes. I had definitely hurt his feelings, which is not what I had meant do to.

But Kyle doesn’t give up easily. He’s not only my best friend but he’s the only one who held me together after David broke off our engagement last year. “Why don’t you take a break,” he said. “Here comes Nola. She’ll cover for you.”

“Sure,” Nola said, rubbing my back as if I were one of her toddler twins in need of soothing. “You do look sort of pale. Are you feeling weak?”

I shook my head. Quite the contrary. Energy buzzed through my veins. But rather than argue with Nola, whom I adore, I took her advice and sat at a table near the front door, where I had a view of the strange guy.

He clasped his hands, thumbs pressed together and sat completely still. After several minutes, he slowly slipped his arms from his coat.

He wore a short-sleeved shirt, revealing well-muscled arms.

Watching him, I felt a rush of adrenalin, unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

The door opened, and group of yoga women walked in. They swarmed the counter like a bunch of bees instead of forming a line. Kyle and Nola worked in rhythm with each other, taking orders, making the lattes and non-fat cappuccinos.

I thought about going back to my position, but they had it under control. So, inconspicuously I stared at the strange guy. Bubbles of excitement fluttered along my skin every time he glanced in my direction.

He looked about my age, that milestone of thirty reminding me it was time to find my place in life.

His brownish-blond hair waved over his ears and touched the top of his collar. He had a short beard, as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. And there was nothing really wrong with his nose or any other part of his face, when I looked at each feature separately. But there was something not right about the whole picture.

Every few seconds, his hands shimmered. I tried to see if he was holding some kind of light. As far as I could tell, he wasn’t. I looked around at the other guests. Everyone else appeared normal.

He kept his back straight, his arms close to his sides, and his head down, staring at his odd-shaped tablet, more oval than square.

His presence moved me into a place I had never been before. I imagined him kissing me, my thoughts circling themselves, like a never-ending roll of film.

This was totally not me thinking. Not the rational me who had sworn off relationships. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I got up and walked in his direction, stopping several feet before reaching his table, thinking he would look up. He didn’t.

I couldn’t talk to him. I literally couldn’t move forward. If I went any closer, I was sure my legs would give out. I turned around and headed back to my station.

“That guy is strange,” Kyle said. “I don’t like the way he’s staring at you.”

My heart did a little flip.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” Kyle squeezed the wet rag in his hand. “See what he’s all about.” He slapped the rag on the counter and walked toward the break room.

“Ask him how he knew my name,” I said.

Kyle held up the back of his hand at my request.

Seconds later, he emerged in the customer area and marched toward the stranger, my heart beating in time to his footsteps.

Kyle. If you looked his name up on Wikipedia, you’d find the words kind, considerate, intuitive, higher than normal energy aura, dedicated. But there would be this footnote stating, “Not Jessica’s type.” Which is a good thing, because I love having him as my best friend.

Years ago, after getting partnered in Psych 101, we went on two dates, realized we were better as friends, and here we are. Since David, Kyle’s been wanting to try again. I read it in his body language and how he’s always trying to please me. But although I never understood the Periodic Table, I know chemistry can’t be forced.

While Kyle and Trench Coat talked, I went through the motions of making a grande frappaccino. Next to the stranger, Kyle appeared awkward and out of place. An utterly unrealistic thought.

But nothing about this morning was normal.

I alternated between looking down, looking up, trying to lip-read. Kyle said “hi” that was easy to figure out and then “Can I get you something?” A bit harder, but discernible.

But when Trench Coat answered, he turned his whole body away from me. Lip-reading became impossible.

I was making my third ice-blended mocha, trying hard not to mess up whipped cream on two, hold it on the third when Kyle finally got back.

“What did you find out?” I set the drinks on the counter and called out, “Susan.”

“He’s says he’s a reporter,” Kyle said, relieving Nola at the register. “I think he’s full of shit.”

“Did you ask him how he knew my name?” I poured soy milk into the next cup before I realized it was supposed to be non-fat.

“I told him you were my girlfriend.”

“You what?” My hand jerked, knocking the container of non-fat milk. I caught it before it tipped over.

“Listen, Jess. You said he made you feel uncomfortable. Maybe now he won’t come back.”

“I said he was strange, that’s all. You’re strange, too, you know.” I glanced down at the sole-less shoes he was always wearing in order to keep microwaves and toasters from going all wonky.

Kyle gave me one of his I can’t help it looks, where he turns his lips down and tilts his head like a sad puppy. I know he can’t help what he does.

He had explained his condition to me when we first met. Everyone has electrical currents running through their body. His run at a higher-than-normal level. Battery operated watches drain quickly on his wrist. And every year he needs a new cell phone.

And then there is that zing that passes through my body when we touch.

I’m usually sympathetic to his situation. But today, his currents may be high, but my patience was running low.

I placed a top on the non-fat latte and set it on the counter, harder than necessary. A few drops spilled out the opening.

Kyle glanced at me quickly, then turned back to the lady in front of him. “Ma’am, did you say a lemon muffin?”

Hearing papers rustling, I turned in the direction of Trench Coat. He held a thin piece of paper between his fingers. He looked up, and I glanced away quickly.

I concentrated on wiping down my wand. When I could see my face in the shiny silver, I set the towel down and leaned against the counter. My body felt too angular, as if I were made of sharp corners and not smooth skin over curvy hips and thighs.

“You should go home.” Nola tapped my arm and gave me a look that said she’d been trying to get my attention.

Part of me wanted to bolt and run straight for next year. Another part of me wanted to stay. That guy did something to me. Something I’d never felt in my entire life. And I craved more of whatever it was.

Shaking off Nola’s suggestion, I started on a venti mocha frappe when the scraping sound tunneled its way toward me. Trench Coat scooted his chair back and stood up.

The cuffs on his button-down shirt were too long. His jeans, which hugged his muscled thighs, seemed old and worn. My mind jumped to the racks at our local thrift shop, a place I knew quite well, given my financial situation.

He curled his fingers into fists. Then stretched them apart, repeating this action several times. After stretching his neck from side to side, he packed up his stuff, put on his long tan coat. A few minutes later, the door opened, and he walked out.

Or had he? The outline of his body hung in the air.

It was faint, but detectable. With my hand out, I rushed toward Trench Coat’s image. By the time I reached the door, it faded away. Completely.

“Hey, Jess.” Nola nudged my arm. “What are you reaching for?”

I turned around. As I untied my apron, I realized my hands were shaking.

“You looked like you were grabbing something,” she said. “You better lay off the caffeine.”

“I think I’m going to clock out. Ashley starts soon. You’re good, right?”

“Sure. Get some rest,” Nola said, rubbing my back.

I hurried into the employee room for my bag. Kyle was waiting for me, with his phone in one hand and his keys dangling in the other. “C’mon. I’m on break. I’ll give you a ride home.”

That would leave Nola alone, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue.

As we crossed the parking lot, I looked around for the strange guy.

“We sure get all kinds of crazies here,” Kyle said, unlocking the passenger side of his truck.

“I thought it was sweet of him to bring me that water.” I climbed in and tucked my legs under my butt.

Kyle made an annoying tsking sound.

“Can I ask you something?” I said, while Kyle started the truck. “Was there anything weird to you about how he looked?”

“Besides the way he was gawking at you?”

“No, I mean. He was solid, right?”

“What are you getting at?” Kyle zoomed out of the lot and into the oncoming traffic.

I grabbed onto the handle over the door. “Do you have to drive so fast?”

“No.” He grinned at me. “What are you doing later? I’m off at three.”

I thought about bringing up how the guy had shimmered, but obviously, Kyle hadn’t noticed it, so I let it go.

“How about a movie?” he asked, after he parked the truck.

A movie sounded great. Something that might get me excited about film school again. And I desperately needed inspiration if I was ever going to move on with my life.

The word temporary in my job description had morphed into permanent months ago.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about that guy long enough to concentrate on what Kyle was saying, let alone a movie.

“Three-fifteen sound good? I’ll pick you up after work.”

“Not today,” I said.

“Tell me you’re working on your screenplay, and I’ll let you off easy.”

“I wish. I haven’t even had one idea since David.” I stopped talking, realizing I actually said his name without feeling that avalanche press against my chest.

“You never know what’s going to happen next, Jess. Inspiration could be right around the corner, at the movies.”

“Nice try, coach…but not today.”

“Gotcha.” Kyle squeezed my hand, causing that slight electrical zing between us. “Just my animal magnetism,” he teased.

I pulled my hand onto my lap.

The only car in our driveway was my transmission- less Honda Civic, which meant my grandparents were running their Tuesday errands.

I was two paychecks away from finally getting it fixed. My grandmother had offered to help, but I’ve taken too much from them already. And besides, I’d made a promise to myself to become self-sufficient by the age of thirty. It was enough that I lived rent free in the studio apartment attached to the back of their house.

On the pretense that he needed to use the bathroom, Kyle parked his truck and followed me through the front door.

While he went off to the bathroom, I read the note my grandmother had left on the kitchen table. At the dry cleaners and library. Not going to the market today. Xoxoxox.

We’ve been leaving each other notes since forever.

Kyle emerged from the bathroom with a pleading look on his face. “I can’t change your mind about later?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

I shook my head. “Not today.” I took the glass from his hands, set it on the counter and led him to the front door.

As we were saying goodbye, Kyle’s phone beeped.

“It’s Heather,” he said, reading the text message. Two seconds later, his phone rang. He let it go to voicemail. But it rang again before we said goodbye.

“You better get it,” I said.

As I shut the door, I could hear Kyle talking.

“Listen, Heather…”

Heather is Kyle’s ex. They broke up over a month ago. But for the past few days she’s been calling nonstop. Kyle’s been trying to make their break-up a “nice thing” after watching how David had treated me, but let’s be honest, how nice can breaking up be? Someone always ends up getting hurt.

Personally, I think they make a great couple, but my opinion isn’t worth much.

Just as my grandparents don’t care that I think it’s time to stop worrying about my financial situation and spend their money on themselves. I’ve been suggesting home improvements for years, but my grandmother is as stubborn as a coffee stain.

The carpets in their main house resemble something from a horror movie, a drab avocado green. The flowery wallpaper is cracked and peeling. And water drains from the washing machine into the bathtub on the other side of the wall. But Grandma loves this place.

I crossed the kitchen and opened the door to my studio apartment. After pulling open the curtains, letting the sunlight fall onto my unmade bed, I lit a vanilla candle and flopped down on the comforter with my mail.

There was an invitation to yet another wedding shower. At least I wasn’t a bridesmaid. Again. A credit card invitation. Just what I didn’t need. A catalog showing overpriced yoga clothes. The last envelope was from my film advisor. The last chance I had to succeed.

I had wanted to make movies as far back as I could remember. Instead of following my dream, for fear of failure, I went to community college and got my AA. It had taken me four years to finish a two-year program. I should have known I was going down the wrong path.

But I was in my early twenties with time on my side. I figured I would waitress and write on the side. And then I met David. If nothing else, he convinced me to apply to film school.

Not yet ready to deal with Mr. Moore, I tossed the letter aside.

Then I did what I always do when I’m bothered by something. I picked up the stack of postcards from my father which I keep on my nightstand next to my journal.

He’s been sending them since I was eight, when he started acting in all those corny western movies made over in Europe. Reading his signature, XOXOXO Pa, usually puts me in a good mood. But not today.

I couldn’t get my mind off that guy, off how his image stayed in the room after he had already left.

But it was more than that. He had left some sort of footprint on my psyche. The whole time he had been in The Hut, I had found it hard to concentrate without looking up at him while making the drinks. And his smell, that lemony scent, would hit me every few minutes.

I rose from my bed, tearing open the envelope from Mr. Moore. Just what I figured.

“Dear Jessica, I have not yet received the topic for your final film. As you know this is a requirement for graduation. Please let me know by the end of the month if you plan on continuing with our program.”

I tossed the letter onto my dresser.

After changing out of my work clothes, I went through the main house and left a note for my grandmother. Going over to Aunt Beth’s.

Walking down the block, I thought of Trench Coat. His eyes, so captivating. He’d looked at me as if he knew things about me. Or maybe, I wanted him to know me. Logically, it made no sense at all. But my heart knew exactly what it wanted.

A matchmaker must record his findings within three hours of meeting the subject of his mission. Law #7.

Renn paced the sidewalk across the street from the Mud Hut, repeating this most important law from the 'Time Traveling Matchmaker’s Handbook.'

Alongside his own whisperings, he heard Arlianna’s voice. He pictured his mentor’s lips enunciating each word as she twirled a long curly strand of hair around her forefinger. He knew it was crucial to follow the laws. He knew he could be terminated. He knew his future could be ruined. He also knew something, something strong prohibited him from sending the data.

For two hours and fifty minutes, he’d been thinking only about Jessica, the subject of his mission. Nothing else had occupied his mind.

“You’re meant for this job,” Arlianna had said how many times in the past few months? “You’re a natural. And Time Traveling Matchmakers Inc. is made better by your talents.”

Where were those talents now? He’d even lost his core for a second or two back in the coffee shop. Natural born time travelers were not supposed to lose their balance.

If he didn’t get the data recorded in the next ten minutes, he’ll have failed his first solo mission.

He opened his tablet to page one of his log.

From the log of Renn Porter, Apprentice Matchmaker.

Mentor: Arlianna Greenhouse Mission# 265 – Griffin & Singleton Mission: Locate & Return (L&R) w/ Jessica Dylan Singleton (JDS)

Dest: The Mud Hut, Northridge, CA 7.24.Present Day.

Avatar of JDS: Hair-Ash Blonde Eyes- Green Complex: Creamy Age: 29.8

Blood Type – B Neg Apps: Yoga, swimming, snowboarding Aspir: Current—Film directing Past-Chef, to be a good wife someday Edu: HS grad w/ honors AA- Business LA Film School—Currently enrolled FamHist: Mother-deceased Father – Actor Lives in apt attached to home of Gma & Gpa Close with Aunt and Uncle Pers Type: INTP

Foods: Sushi, Pasta Highs: Movies Lows: Insecure Day One Arrived at set west at exactly 7.24

JDS in distress Stabilized CORE

Assumed coverup with co-worker. CW has int in JDS. Neg on the return.

Various smiles: Flirty, trusting, curious Overall demeanor: Charming, alluring, underlying sexiness Observation period: 2hrs 10 min Departed for home base Met w/ Arlianna Followed JDS home.

Followed JDS to Ant & Unc.

Add’l notes:

At times CORE functioned 85% -unnat behavior. Why?

I fear detachment of residue Had convoy w/Arlianna to discuss this sit. She suggests further observ, possible flaws in calculation could be the cause.

Submitted: 4:30 PM

****

Aunt Beth was thirty when that drunk driver crashed into Mom’s car. Uncle Joe wasn’t Uncle Joe yet. But Mom’s death left a big gaping hole in Aunt Beth’s heart, and he stepped in to fill the void. All of ours, actually. Not that anyone could ever take the place of a mom, a sister, or a daughter, but Uncle Joe fell into our family so seamlessly, it was like he belonged there.

I know my aunt and uncle wanted kids, but that didn’t happen for them. They had plans to travel. That didn’t happen, either.

Until now. And my uncle’s idea was so out-there-crazy. Crazier than anything he’s ever done. And ridiculous if you ask me.

Why Aunt Beth kept saying she needed to stand by him drove me insane. I was never going to stand by a guy again as long as I lived. I had wasted 755 days with David, pretending to like horror films, car museums, and believing that he really wanted to get married.

Our breakup shattered me into a million pieces. And I was still trying to glue myself back together.

As I walked, I replayed the events of the morning. That faint image of the stranger lingered in my mind. Nola had to be right. Too much caffeine after too little sleep can play havoc on the imagination.

I crossed the light and turned into my aunt’s neighborhood.

This is my favorite part of the walk. It’s a tree-lined street, about five blocks long. The houses are small, but everyone has a welcoming porch.

Halfway down the street, I felt someone behind me. I turned around expecting to see one of the little kids who are always riding their bikes or jump roping. There was no one there.

But the minute I started walking again a light mist tickled the back of my legs. My heartbeat quickened.

I turned around again. Nothing. Still, my body knew something wasn’t right. My legs moved faster.

As I reached my aunt’s street, two figures appeared in front of the house at the far end of her block.

Both in trench coats. One was the guy from The Mud Hut. The other figure stood a few inches shorter with a mass of curly hair. My mind conjured up those spies in the movies David always dragged me to.

I stopped mid-step, my heart knocking on my chest, watching as they moved farther away. Watching as their coats glimmered in the afternoon sun. This was not my imagination.

After a few seconds, adrenalin swelled inside me, propelling me forward. “Hey! Stop!”

They kept on walking and turned the corner.

A second or two later I reached the spot where I had last seen them, expecting to still see them farther down the block.

They were gone. In their place hung a wispy cloud, similar to that image I had seen earlier at work. There had been two people walking, of that I was certain, yet I only saw one outline. That of the guy.

I moved toward the shape, hovering about two feet above the sidewalk. As I stepped into it, the sky felt as if it lay on my shoulders, heavy and ominous.

I hunched forward, breathing quickly through my mouth.

Seconds later, the pressure disappeared along with the image. I looked at my hands and arms and down at the sidewalk. I stomped my foot. The ground was solid. Concrete.

I walked up the block checking every porch, although I knew I wasn’t going to find them.

I turned around, moving slowly at first, and then my muscles kicked into action. I ran at full speed to my aunt’s house. All the while, feeling, knowing, someone watched me.

Aunt Beth opened the door as I ran up the driveway. Most of her thick, brown hair was held back off her face by a turquoise clip I had given her for her birthday last year.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, blowing on a stray hair. “Is it Grandpa?”

I shook my head.

“Grandma?” Her voice rose into the air.

“They’re good.” I wheezed as I caught my breath, bending over with my hands on my thighs.

My aunt placed her hand on my shoulder. “You look scared to death.”

I grabbed her arm and followed her into the house.

As always, her kitchen felt like my second home, actually my third. Even though it’s been a long time, I still have a few memories of the house where I lived with my parents. Or maybe it was the cucumber scented candle on her windowsill, a smell that always evoked my mother’s touch.

A bouquet of half-opened daffodils sat on the counter, next to an open bottle of red wine.

The small TV in the corner was on without the sound. The news lady was talking very seriously about something that was happening in another country. Behind her there was a map of Europe.

I was glad the sound was off. Not that I don’t care about the world. But at the moment, I just cared more about mine. It loomed in front of me like one gigantic landscape of confusion.

Aunt Beth poured herself a glass of wine, and then held up the bottle offering me a glass.

I shook my head. The last thing I needed now was to alter an already shaky reality.

After taking a sip, Aunt Beth picked up my hand, squeezing my fingers as she studied my face.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, almost wishing this was another David sighting episode. At least that was founded in reality. What I had just witnessed could have been a scene from one of Uncle Joe’s sci fi movies.

“Jessie, tell me what’s wrong.”

Images raced across my mind, erasing her words.

“Jessie. Earth to Jessie.” Aunt Beth snapped her fingers in front of my face.

Her voice pulled me back to the kitchen. “I’m losing it,” I whispered.

“What happened?”

Looking in my aunt’s eyes, I felt just as I had all those years ago after my Mom died—helpless and scared. I wanted so badly for her to believe what I was going to tell her.

Aunt Beth picked up her glass and carried it to the kitchen table. Before saying anything else, I sat down like I’ve been doing all my life.

And like she’s been doing forever, Aunt Beth sat down beside me, placing her elbows on the table, resting her head in her hands.

“I’m seeing things,” I said. Aunt Beth’s face remained expressionless. “Like the shapes of people after they’re not there anymore.”

“Can you be a little more specific? What do mean by shapes?”

There was no judgment in her voice. There never is.

By the time I finished telling Aunt Beth about Trench Coat, her face had tightened into her worried look, and she reached for my hand.

“Do you think it’s from something I ate?” I asked her. “Or from too much coffee?” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Why do you think this is happening?”

“Stop that.” She pulled her hand out of mine and tapped my cheek. “Let me ask you one question, and don’t get mad. You haven’t done any drugs, have you?”

“No, of course not. How could you even think that?” I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but it crept in like a draft of wind seeping under a doorway. I immediately felt sorry for my harsh words.

“No worries,” I went on. “I’d probably think the same thing if someone told me what I just told you.”

“Well, then, I think you’re just tired.”

“He knew my name, Aunt Beth.”

“He probably heard someone calling you,” she said.

“Okay, then, explain why he was here, on your block?”

“But you didn’t see his face. Maybe it wasn’t him.”

“No, but I saw that same after image thing. And how many people wear a trench coat in Southern California?”

“Hmmm…” Taking a sip of her wine, Aunt Beth blinked a few times, the way she does when she doesn’t really know what to say. But then her eyes were sort of red, so maybe her contacts were bothering her. “You sure you don’t want some?” She raised her glass in the air.

“Positive.”

“It could have been an illusion,” she went on. “The way the sun hit their jackets. Reflection off the trees or something. When we’re upset, our minds do funny things.”

I wanted to believe her explanations, but what I had seen had been too real. “I guess it’s possible,” I said, knowing that was what she wanted to hear.

“And you have been upset, honey. I assume you haven’t gotten your car fixed yet?”

“No. Pretty soon.”

“Well, between that problem and David, plus helping Grandma… Speaking of pressure, did you write your advisor yet?” She refilled her wine glass.

“No.” I let out a breath of air.

“It’ll come to you. And you know what? One day you’re going to wake up, and David won’t even be on your mind.” Her eyes showed the beginning of a smile.

Which made me start to smile, too. Aunt Beth had an infectious way about her. She’s always been able to make me feel better. I guess that’s because she’s the one who spent the most time with me after Mom’s accident.

I’ve tried to always be there for her, too, but most of the time I fall short, letting my own problems take over. Like now.

“So, what’s going on with you and Uncle Joe?” I asked, making a conscious effort to not think about my life.

“I guess I’m going with him.”

“Do you really want to?” I asked.

“No. But he’s my husband. For better or worse, right?”

“Maybe I should go, too.” I bit on the inside of my cheek. “Africa doesn’t sound like much fun, but I’ll be away from here.”

“Here isn’t so bad. And whatever happened today at work probably won’t happen again.”

“Here’s the thing, Aunt Beth. As much as it freaked me out, I want to see him again. I was totally shocked to see him on your street. But excited at the same time.”

“Maybe you will,” she said. “It’s possible he lives around here.”

“Why didn’t he stop when I called?”

“He might not have heard you.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” I smiled. This was so like my aunt.

“Not everything. Tell me about him. What does he look like?”

“He’s sexy in a gritty sort of way, with a stubbly beard and longish hair.” I ran my hand over my chin. “He was like…I can’t explain.” And I really couldn’t. It was a feeling I couldn’t catch. But I could feel it in my mind, like waking up in the middle of a dream and trying to remember all the details. “I was drawn to him. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

“See, you’re already getting over David. You want dinner?”

She walked to the fridge, opening and closing the door a few times. “How about if we go to the deli. Do you need to get home?”

I was in a hurry to become self-sufficient. To become whatever I was supposed to be in life. But I was never in a hurry to leave my aunt.