Chapter Two
Avery
“Mom?”
“In the laundry room, honey!”
I hung my jacket up on the coat rack and tossed my backpack on the floor. “I’ll be in the kitchen!”
I made a beeline for the coffee pot and grabbed a tumbler out of the cabinet.
I filled the cup with ice from the fridge and then poured caramel syrup and half-and-half into the bottom before filling it to the brim with coffee.
I pulled a reusable straw out of the drawer and stirred everything together before screwing the lid on.
“Hey!” she yelped. “You’re banned from iced coffee until you start bringing back some of my cups, young man!”
I groaned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I put the straw in my mouth and took a large drink. “Mmm. Mhm, that’s what I needed.”
When I finally turned around my mother had framed herself in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “And I need my cups back! Half the cupboard is empty, Avery!”
“No way! I might have like… one.”
She rolled her eyes. “I bet you if I walked out to your car I’d find at least three of my cups rolling around your filthy floorboards.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That you’re a slob and a thief,” she said flatly, moving across the kitchen to grab her own coffee cup from the island.
“You know,” I commented. “Some mothers are nice to their children.”
“And did you know, in some species, the mothers eat their young,” she countered, sipping from her mug.
“Ha. Ha,” I deadpanned.
“But seriously, Avery. That’s the last cup you are walking out of this house with until they’ve all been returned safe and sound.”
“Mom, you have like 50 cups!”
“I have 32, and, when I counted yesterday, I was down to 25. That’s seven cups missing, Avery!”
“Aunt Sharon probably has five of them.”
“No, she had two. I raided her cupboards last week after bridge.”
“Do you hear yourself right now?”
She set her cup down and frowned. “What do you mean, Avery?”
“You are whining about raiding other people's cabinets for tumblers after bridge games. Do you remember when I was young, and you told me to tell you if you ever started becoming one of those weird old people like Grandma Jacky…”
“I beg your pardon? I have a hard time connecting having hobbies and collecting something as a weird old people thing.”
“Overpriced coffee cups and bridge, Mother. Coffee cups and bridge. Shall I start touring retirement homes? I think you have a real problem and need an intervention. While you and Dad are gone next week I’m gonna donate 25 of your cups to the homeless.”
“Avery Jacob Thompson! How dare you even say such a thing!”
I snorted at her outrage and the preposterous look plastered across her face as she stared at me, open-mouthed.
“I’m gonna take your key away from you!” she threatened.
I shrugged. “Fine, but then I won’t be here to water the plants…”
“It’s four days, they’ll survive.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I won’t be here to hide your packages from Dad, either.”
She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you gonna be late for work or something?”
“Yes, I just came by to pick up my mail.”
“And pilfer another coffee cup from your defenseless mother,” she added.
“Well, if you feel that strongly about it, call the police,” I said breezily, waving goodbye as I disappeared out of the kitchen.
“Very funny,” she called to my back.
I stopped alongside the basket by the entryway, grabbed the small stack of envelopes with my name on them, and stuffed them into my backpack. I stepped into my shoes and headed out the door before I had to hear her complain about cups again.
I cranked my car’s heater and headed off towards the diner, sipping my iced coffee in peace… finally.
Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in my favorite spot on the curb in the alleyway behind the diner.
No one ever went back there except the staff, and it wasn’t even accessible from the road.
It was the perfect sanctuary for the kitchen lackeys to hide from guests.
I had arrived twenty minutes before my shift started, as per usual, and pulled a Marlboro Smooth out of my hidden pack, deep in the inside zipper pocket.
I lit the end, inhaled, and pulled out the mail I’d collected that morning. It was all junk and advertisements, except for one smaller envelope on the bottom.
I held the cigarette between my lips, pinched the small edge of the envelope, and tore it off. I tilted the envelope and a tri-folded piece of paper slipped out into my other hand.
Avery
4077 Boulder Crest Lane
Uptown, Emberford
My Dearest Avery,
I hope that when you read this you get as excited as I am writing it. I know we’ve talked about my sentence in the past, but I just thought I’d let you know that it’s over. Nearly, anyway. I’m set to be released next week on the 18th. You probably won’t even get this before then.
I’m staying with my brother, but I don’t know his address to give to you.
The first thing I’m gonna do when I get out is try to get a phone.
Once I do, I’ll write you with the number and you can call me.
I can’t wait to hear your sweet voice and see your smile for the first time.
The thought of being with you when I get out is the only thing that’s kept me going through all of these years.
I want to be everything you need, Avery. I want to take care of you, I want us to build our lives together. I have no clue what the rest of my life is going to look like, but I do know two things…
I’m never coming back to prison, and I’m in love with you. I didn’t know it was possible to crave a person you’ve never met, but I do.
I can’t wait to wrap my arms around you and taste your lips like we've written about a thousand times before. We’ve almost made it!
I’ll see you soon!
All my love,
James
***
I could hear my heartbeat in my eardrums. It was chilly out, but I suddenly felt overheated. I pulled my beanie off and took another long drag of menthol.
“Oh, fuck…”
It took me a while to convince myself to get up and actually go inside.
By the time I had, the breakfast rush was in full swing, and I slipped right into pleasant waiter mode.
I took orders, refilled coffee mugs, and chatted mindlessly with the regulars.
It did well to keep me distracted, even in the face of my racing thoughts.
Despite how hectic serving could be, the rhythm of it was something almost soothing.
“What’s up with you today? You’ve been floating around here like the walking dead all morning,” my coworker, Nikki, asked as she punched an order into the computer at the far end of the bar. Her forehead was shiny with sweat, and her red hair was pulled back with a flowered kerchief.
“Oh, nothing,” I sighed. “Except the fact that my whole life is collapsing around me.”
Nikki snorted. “That weirdo with the growth on his neck come back?”
“James is getting out of prison.”
Nikki dropped the pen she was holding and finally turned away from the screen. “Oh, my fucking god! When will he get out?”
“Two days ago.”
Her eyes widened even more and her mouth dropped open. “Have you seen him yet?”
“No! Of course not, I just found out. I’m kinda… freaking out.”
“Did he call you?”
“No, he doesn’t have my phone number. He said he would send me a letter once he was settled and had a phone.”
“What are you going to say when you call him?”
“I’m not going to call him.”
"You're kidding!” she gasped.
“No. I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting this to happen.”
“He wasn’t locked up for life, Avery. He was always gonna get out at some point. We knew that. I just thought you would have broken it off before then. Let him down easy, or something."
“That’s what I was going to do, but every time I tried I… I just couldn’t. It felt too much like I was losing someone important to me. Fuck, Nik. I’m so screwed.”
“Okay, just relax. We still have time to figure something out.”
“What is there to figure out? Are you insane? This is bad, Nikki. Bad!”
“Okay, okay. I know. God, you just sprung this whole thing on me. Give me some time to chew on it and we’ll figure it out!” Nikki huffed and grabbed her notepad and pen before pushing past me and back out onto the floor to check on her tables.
I keyed in table six’s order before grabbing my coffee from the back counter and taking a long, fortifying swig. I rolled my eyes thinking about my mother sitting at home counting her cups as I set it back down on the counter.
Shit.