29. Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Mira
I t had been a week since I started working at Savannah Lace, and already, I was falling into a rhythm, a hollow, automatic one that kept me moving but didn't fill the space inside.
Different versions of it doesn't matter had become my mantra to live by.
Every time I thought about Pari, pain seared through me, so I stopped thinking about her. I stopped worrying about her sleeping through the night. I stopped thinking about her little hands that she put on my cheeks before she kissed me. I stopped thinking about singing Ghum ghum tora shobai ghum to her. I stopped thinking about her calling me Miramashi . I also stopped thinking about Beau, and waking up with him, of going to sleep in his arms, feeling safe. There would be no safety with Beau ever again. If he kicked me out once, what would stop him from doing it again?
But , it didn't matter , because I didn't care. Not anymore.
That night in my car, I hit rock bottom. I'd thought I'd hit that several times in my twenty-two years, but now I could see that counting Ambien pills and taking them one after the other was probably it. At least I hoped so.
But it didn't matter . I was here. I was surviving. I was fine. It was all fine. Nothing could hurt me anymore. I wouldn't let anything or anyone touch me again—break me again, bring me down so low that I was ready to give up my humanity, my life.
I was stationed in the old break room while the new kitchen was built, according to my specifications, no less. The space was cramped, with old countertops and a stove that had two settings, low and crazy high, but I made it work. I hadn't had better in the diners where I'd cooked, the ones Beau's family had mocked me about. So, yeah, I wasn't a chef , I was a cook . It was good, honest work, and it was on them for looking down on me for it. But it didn't matter what they thought about me. I wasn't looking for their approval so Beau would accept me as his…what? Girlfriend? Nanny he fucked? What?
The fact that I spent an enormous amount of time thinking about Beau when I kept telling Dr. Ryan that he doesn't matter …well, the joke was on me, wasn't it?
There was a blessed numbness inside me—the pain seemed far, far away, like when you take heavy-duty painkillers. You know the hurt is there but it's buried under pounds of cotton.
I wrote the day's menu on the chalkboard, the white chalk dust clinging to my fingers. Grilled vegetable paninis with homemade pesto. Butternut squash soup, ‘cause it was in season. Fruit salad with mint and lime. Simple. Clean.
Cooking used to make me feel like I had control, and now, when I was at my lowest, it was my savior. I could get lost in the flavors and the ingredients. I could drown my past and my future—and focus on the now, like what was baking in the oven or roasting on a pan.
Like Dr. Ryan said to me, " You don't live all your minutes in one go…you live them one minute at a time. So, when it all feels too much, just get through one, and then another minute, and then another. Let the storm pass. "
That was the trick, apparently, to not take another handful of Ambien pills.
I heard clicking of heels and knew who it was. I'd already figured out who sounded like what.
Heels indicated the new architect and one of my food's biggest fans, Zahra Delacroix. She'd just moved to Savannah with her fiancé, and since she was half middle Eastern, she loved the Indian spices that I added to the food I made. She wore high heels, Christian Louboutin or some other fancy brand, and looked like she walked out of a fashion magazine.
Boots snapping impatiently meant Luna. She was the head of architecture, dressed like a biker bitch; short blonde hair, extremely feminine features, and boots.
Stella, the head of landscaping, wore ballet flats like I did. Only hers were Christian Dior. Mine cost five dollars a pair, on sale, at Target.
Nova wore those fifties Mary Janes, and her heels had a distinct sound, while Nina sounded like a woman on a mission. There were others. Ginny from construction. Anson who had an office in the Savannah Lace building along with his colleague Diego Perez who flirted outrageously with everyone—except me. Probably, someone told him that I was a headcase that tried to kill myself, so he kept a safe, solicitous distance.
"Mira!" Zahra called out, her voice light, playful. "Smells amazing, as always. I've stopped eating at home so I can eat both breakfast and lunch here." She patted her flat stomach over her skirt suit. "I'm going to have to work out harder or I'll put on a shit ton of weight."
I gave her a small half smile because it was expected. I wiped my hands on the towel tucked around my waist. "The soup will be ready in about fifteen minutes."
Zahra smiled with what I could only describe as careful enthusiasm, like she was trying not to push me too hard. "Can't wait," she said, and for a second, she looked like she might stay to chat. But I didn't give her the chance. I turned back to the stove, stirring the soup, my body tense with the expectation that she'd try to break through the silence.
I felt like I was on display sometimes. Did everyone know about my rock-bottom moment? Probably. I'd learned that Savannah was a small town despite the four hundred thousand people who supposedly lived here.
"Hey, we're going for drinks after work. Why don't you join us?"
I shook my head. "No thanks. I can't afford it." A few days ago, I'd have never admitted that. But now I spoke my truth.
"Savannah Lace is paying," she said easily.
"I don't need charity."
"The company paying for an employee's drink is not charity." Zahra got into my face then. "You work here. You're a colleague. We're going to celebrate the Drayden contract, and Nina will be coming, along with the company card."
I swallowed. She wasn't treating me with kid gloves like everyone else. Did she now know I was One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest ?
"No, thanks."
Zahra raised an eyebrow. "Going through a breakup? I was like that when I broke up with my ex. Cried for days ."
"I'm not crying."
She put a hand on her waist and cocked her hip. "But you are going through a breakup?"
My God, but this woman was persistent.
Everyone else tiptoed around me, their smiles too careful, their conversations too polite, but not Zahra.
Thankfully, Stella walked into the tiny breakroom just then, offering me a much-needed escape from Zahra. Stella's approach was different—she wasn't pretending she didn't know about the mess I'd made of my life. I could see it in her eyes, the way she wanted to ask but held back, restrained by some misplaced sense of respect.
"Do you think if there's any pesto left over I could take it home?" she asked. "I'm in love with it."
"Sure," I replied, unnecessarily stirring the pot of soup.
Before Ambien, I'd have chatted and made friends, but not After Ambien. Now, I wanted to be alone and in my head.
"I was asking Mira to join us today evening," Zahra prompted.
"Oh, yeah. You should come, Mira. It's gonna be a party!" Stella agreed.
"She says she can't come because she can't afford it," Zahra said, and I felt heat rise through me.
I don't care! It doesn't matter.
"I know how that feels—I went through that for a while and it was brutal," Stella admitted sincerely. "But Nina is picking up the tab."
I looked at Stella and then Zahra. Had they coordinated this? What were they trying to pull? Stella was a senator's daughter and was married to a guy with a shit ton of money; like hell she knew about not having money.
As if able to read my mind, Stella continued, "My father called in a loan he gave me, and I had to sell literally everything. All I had was my salary, which is pretty decent, but I was starting over from scratch, and there were days when I wondered how I'd make it all work."
"Ladies, are you crowding Mira here?" Nova's voice came through as she stood in the doorway.
"Yes," Zahra said unapologetically.
Nova grinned. "Both of you, out. Lunch isn't for another half hour—you can wait."
Zahra leaned to whisper to me, "Life is meant to be lived so live, yeah? Come for drinks."
Nova stayed after everyone left. "How's it going?"
I didn't look at her. "Good."
She'd been kind to me and had believed in me when Beau didn't. Roxy had also reached out, but I'd rebuffed her as well. I didn't know what to do with their kindness, with anyone's kindness.
"Everyone loves your food."
"Glad they like it," I mumbled, keeping my eyes on the soup. I didn't need her approval. I didn't need anyone's. It didn't matter! I didn't care.
There was an awkward pause before she added, "You know, if you ever want to talk, I'm around."
I nodded still not looking at her. Her words were meaningless to me. She waited a second longer, probably hoping I'd open up, but I didn't. She left, and I exhaled slowly, feeling my tension ease as soon as the door clicked shut behind her.
The one person at Savannah Lace who didn't try to pry into my life was Nina. She seemed to understand me in a way the others didn't. She didn't push. She just worked with me, listened when I had ideas about the kitchen, and about the menus. She respected my space, and that's why I had confided about my plans with her.
"I'm not staying in Savannah," I told her a few days ago, while we were going over the final plans for the cafeteria. "I'll work here, make enough money, and then I'm gone."
She'd paused, looked at me with those sharp eyes of hers, then nodded slowly. "I understand. But I hope you'll consider building a life here. You're good at what you do, and you could make a career at Savannah Lace."
I shrugged, uninterested. "I don't want a career. I just want to leave."
"Don't let a man, any man, run you out of anywhere," she remarked, and left it at that.
That's what I liked about Nina, she didn't bother with emotional bullshit. She respected what I said, and moved on.
Nova, I knew, was struggling with the distance I had put between us, and I could see it in every glance, every forced smile. She still lingered after everyone else left the room, still found reasons to check in with me, still tried to reach the version of me that no longer existed.
Nova hadn't said anything directly, not yet, but the questions were always there, just behind her eyes. The quiet, desperate " Are you okay ?" that she wouldn't voice.
The thing was that I wasn't okay. I wasn't anything . I was empty.
I didn't blame Nova for caring. But I also didn't care that she cared. The new After Ambien Mira had no room for it.
I wiped my hands again, hanging the towel I used as an apron over the counter, and glanced at the clock. Almost time for lunch service. I heard footsteps behind me and didn't even need to turn around to know it was Aurora, the soft-spoken architect married to Beau's close friend Gabe Rhodes.
"Mira, how—" she began softly, hesitant, as if she were approaching a wounded animal.
"Lunch's ready," I cut her off before she could ask how I was doing. "I'll set everything in the dining area in the next ten minutes."
"This weekend we're having a barbecue. Gabe and I would very much like it if you could attend."
My hand gripped the ladle I was holding tightly. "I'm busy but thanks for the invite," I replied flatly.
"You know, I grew up alone ." Aurora leaned against the fridge. "My mother was a bit of a flake. My father didn't want me. He had a new family. So, I had no parents, no money, nothing. I met Gabe and he swept me off my feet, and then he took it all away. Crushed me."
I flinched.
He took it all away . That's what Beau had done. He'd given me the best days of my life, and then he'd kicked me out like I was trash. Because you are trash. Don't you dare forget that, Mira Sen. No one really wants you. Stay away from everyone, and you'll be fine. You'll be safe.
"But he came back, and we found our way back because we loved each other."
"How wonderful for you," I said blandly. Using silicone holders, I picked up the soup pot and started to walk past her toward the dining room.
"You and Beau love each other," she continued.
I stilled. "Aurora, you don't know me, and I don't know you. Let's leave it at that."
I was never rude to people before but now it came with ease. I was as the memes said, outta fucks .
"No, we don't know each other." Aurora followed me, carrying the condiments I'd set aside to bring along for lunch. "But we could change that. Stella was depressed for a long while a little while ago. I worried about her all the time. She got therapy and worked her way to being mentally healthy."
I set the soup pot on the table with a soft thud. "Why are y'all pushing me?" I demanded.
Aurora grinned. "To get a rise out of you so you'll snap out of it and rejoin the human race."
She said it so cheekily that something inside me fluttered. I think it was amusement.
"Please stop. I'm here to do a job. And that's it."
"You do what you have to do, and I'll do what I must." Aurora poured some soup into a bowl, and took a deep sniff. "Yum."
I gaped at Aurora as she then served herself a panini with extra pesto.
I was tempted to accept her offer of connection, but fear held me back.
Stay strong, Mira. Remember, you don't care because it doesn't matter.
Alone. Detached. No more attachments, no more people depending on me, no more disappointments when I inevitably let them down. There was nothing to gain from caring, from letting people in. I'd learned that lesson the hard way, and I wasn't about to forget it.