Winnie
“He did not say that!”
I’m driving the two and a half hours it takes to get from Palisade to Silverthorne, the smell of eggplant parmesan and garlic bread keeping me company. I should probably be crying over the events of the last four hours, but when I think about it too long, I can’t stop myself from laughing. That should clue you in on how I decide to deal with things in my life. I find the humor or completely avoid it at all costs. There is no in between. I went to Palisade to surprise my boyfriend of six months with his favorite dinner as a romantic gesture. However, after I arrived at his peach orchard and let myself into his home with the key he gave me last month, it became clear it was me that would be getting surprised.
“Win, tell me he did not say that!” my best friend Marigold gasps at me through my car”s speaker. I called her when I was about 30 minutes from home, because I knew she would want to hear how tonight went. She wasn’t prepared for this.
“He really did though. He also said that if I had been more ‘emotionally available’, he wouldn’t have had to find someone else to ‘take care of him’”. She makes a gagging sound and I start laughing.
“Stop or I’m going to be sick—and where was she? Just standing there? The whole time?” I cringe, remembering the beautiful redhead with legs for days.
“Yes, she was definitely there for the whole show. She was also in one of his button downs.” I sigh and try to sober my laughing. “She was just standing in his kitchen while he tried to explain that it didn’t really mean anything.”
“No. Winnie. No.”
“Uh huh. I was almost more embarrassed for her than I was for me.”
“What the hell do you have to be embarrassed about? He’s the one that should be embarrassed!” Marigold is fiercely protective and for some reason finds all my quirks and issues charming where most people would find them exhausting. I find them exhausting.
“You’re right. I’m not really embarrassed about what he did. I’m just not sure what to feel. I’ve never been cheated on before.”
“Are you okay? Do you need me to come over when you get home?” I think about that. I should need a friend to comfort me, with ice cream and reality TV, but I don’t. I’m…fine.
“Honestly, I think I’m okay. I know I shouldn’t be, but I don’t think he was completely wrong about me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be emotionally available.”
“Winnie…” I head her off before she starts to hype me up.
“Seriously, Mare. I’m fine. A little anxious but fine. I think I’ll stop by the bakery and check on Anna. I need to make sure things are set for this weekend anyway.” She blows out a breath.
“You need to get some rest before the festival. You’ve been working every day at the bakery since before you even opened.” Her tone is only reproachful.
“I will. Things will slow down after the weekend and as crazy as it sounds, being there will help me process. I always think better when I’m busy with my hands.”
“That’s not crazy, Win. It’s how you’re wired.” Marigold Levinson is an absolute gem. A true treasure. She validates my feelings and encourages me to find outlets for my anxiety. I would take a bullet for her. I also have the knowledge that she would be able to save me. Did I mention she’s a kick ass surgeon?
“Thank you. Love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Love you, too. Call me if you need me. I’m on call tonight but can be over in 10 minutes flat.”
“I will. Get some sleep while you can. Night.”
“Night, Win.” I drive the rest of the way home, admiring my town as I go.
My bakery, Thistle and Sage, opened three months ago and tonight is the first night I had tried to take off from work. It didn’t exactly go as planned. Anna, the sweet girl I hired to help me has been doing a great job. I left her in charge by herself tonight and although I’m sure she’s doing great, I want to stop by and check. She just turned 18 and spends a lot of time on social media. She’s also fantastic with customers.
After parking my car at home and walking the few blocks there, I push through the door.
“Winnie!?” I hear Anna from behind the counter. “I thought you wouldn’t be in tonight. Aren’t you supposed to be having a nice dinner with your boyfriend?” I cringe, because although I think getting over Sam isn’t going to be an issue, I’m not looking forward to telling everyone who asks that we’ve broken up. Maybe I’ll just let it go for tonight.
“I was but something came up…” Like catching him cheating on me. “…and we had to cancel.” The entire relationship. “I thought I’d come in and get started on some of the dough for tomorrow and a couple things for the weekend. How’s it going tonight?”
“Aww, I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to the night off.” I smile. “Everything here has been good! We sold out of most pastries by 6 but I stayed open just in case anyone wanted a coffee or one of the breads.” She looks pleased with herself and it’s nice to see her confidence growing.
“That’s great. Sounds like you had everything covered. Thanks, Anna.”
“Anytime! I’ll start sweeping soon and let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” I smile at her and walk through the swinging door to the kitchen. As soon as I’m back there I take a deep breath. Today and the many days before are catching up to me. I can feel the fatigue settling in. That”s why I like to keep moving. I don’t like to dwell on negative feelings or emotions for too long.
I take a second to look around me. I love this kitchen. I may be exhausted but I’m also happy. The work and dedication I’ve put into Thistle and Sageis already paying off. I want to jump up and down but my muscles protest and cry out for rest. I feel older than I am tonight. At 30, 31 next week, I know I’m still young. Only sometimes I think my anxiety takes an extra toll.
I go long stretches where I feel more carefree, able to handle typical stresses and obstacles life throws my way, but then I’ll get the pit in my stomach again. I never know when it will rear its ugly head. The nausea and headaches, the soreness and bone deep tiredness. Anxiety is something I will have to battle the rest of my life but with the help of my friends and family, an incredibly supportive community, and a therapist to help me work through bad episodes, my anxiety has become manageable and less frequent. I tune out my inner thoughts and try to focus on the bread I’m about to bake.
I work my way around the kitchen collecting and measuring ingredients. Instead of letting my thoughts drift back to the day I’ve had, I focus on the task at hand. I”ve loved being in the kitchen from a very young age. Colt and I moved to Silverthorne to live with Uncle Buck, my mother’s brother, when I was 13, after losing our parents in a car accident.
I used to cook and bake with my mother every day. Whether we were preparing dinner or making something special, I spent so much of my time with her in the kitchen. I smile thinking of her, I don’t allow myself this very often. It tends to make me sad and I don’t do well with sad. Her sweet smile has faded in my mind over time. Slipping through my fingers like the flour I’m sifting. We were so young when it happened and relocated so quickly that I didn’t think to ask for pictures or many keepsakes. I feel a tightness in my chest and rub at it, trying to clear it away, but only leaving flour and dough on my apron. Today has been more than enough, I don’t need to add anything else on top of it.
I section my dough and put each one into baking tins. After I slide them into the drawer, I decide I had better start cleaning up around here. The end of summer festival is this weekend and I’m excited to be featured at a booth. This community has always been special. There’s always an outreach or festival happening at least once a month.
Ding! I hear the door chime from the back room. I look at the big mounted clock and do a double take and groan. It’s already 8:30.
“Hey, Anna! Could you please lock the door and flip the sign?” I ask. I guess she must have forgotten to lock up earlier.
I hear voices out front and I’m hoping no one is looking to order anything seeing as we sold out of most items earlier. I’m smiling as I put the last utensil away. Not a bad problem to have for a Thursday night. I mentally pat myself on the back. It still sneaks up on me, knowing that so many people have my back and believe in me. My heart warms.
When I don’t hear the bell again, signaling someone’s exit, I decide I had better go take care of this so we can close up and I can let Anna go home. It’s only after I step through the back swinging door into the front of the shop that I see the reason she hasn’t let our customer know we’re closed.
Barrett Holloway, all 6’4”, tattooed muscle, greek god of him, is leaning against the counter, chatting politely with a very flushed and flustered Anna. He’s maybe the last person I expected to be here. I knew it was a possibility that he would be back in town, having heard about his knee injury. I just didn’t think it would be so soon. I haven’t really spoken to him in four years. In fact, I’ve tried to avoid any one-on-one interaction with him at all costs since I went to one of his hockey games to confess how much I missed him and wanted to be with him. Instead of giving the ‘it’s always been you’ speech and him taking me in his arms and sealing our love with a kiss, I found out he had a girlfriend.
Yes, that was mortifying, and I try not to think about it too often. I say try because when I lay down in bed at night and wade through the sea of embarrassing memories (past, present, and future) that particularly painful memory never fails to float to the surface. It’s because of those dark anxiety ridden moments, that I have thought about how a conversation between us would go after all this time. There are actually multiple variations of how I have pictured this in my head.
So, why in my moment of need couldn’t any of those one sided conversations make their way to the forefront of my brain? If I had to guess the reason, it would be that in all of my delusional scenarios, my poor brain did an abysmal job at remembering him correctly. God, he’s breathtaking.
Then he turns his full sparkling gaze on me, I forget to catch the swinging door–
“Shit!” I hear his deep voice in sync with my own.
Well, this was definitely not one of the scenarios I was prepared for.