18. Adam
Adam
I noticed her the second she walked through the door of my bar. Light brown eyes with long wavy dark brown hair and an olive complexion. She looked like she was seconds away from breaking if something went wrong. So as soon as I set her drink down in front of her, I gave her some space until she looked up in search of someone.
What I didn’t expect was her gaze to completely unfocus and tears falling with no intention of stopping. Thankfully it’s emptier for a Tuesday, otherwise, I feel she’d be more than mortified if she knew she was crying in front of strangers.
Tossing the dish rag on the counter, I walk out from behind the bar and make my way towards her. She still hasn’t noticed my presence and I don’t want to frighten her. So I gently place my hand on her shoulder.
“Are you okay?” I say it as softly as possible, even though she still startles at my words.
A soft gasp comes from her as she looks around before settling her tearful gaze on me.
The woman in front of me breaks my heart and I don’t even know her. She swiftly wipes under her eyes as if that’ll help erase the evidence of pain.
“I’m sorry,” she says and it’s the last thing I expected her to say. Her phone pings multiple times before she looks at it. And her shoulders fall from her ears as what I’m assuming her reaction is from regret texts.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask when a few seconds of stilted silence are all that pass between us.
Her eyes water as she shakes her head. “I don’t think you want to hear it.”
My bartender comes back into the bar from reconnecting new beer taps. “I’ve got time. Come with me.”
She hesitates before grabbing her things along with her drink. Silently, she follows me out to the dining patio. It’s blessedly empty so I’m hoping it gives her a chance to let out what has her so upset.
Her shaky breaths are the only sound between us, so I break it with words.
“What has you here on a Tuesday? Crying in a bar nonetheless?”
A lone tear slips out of her eye and I watch as it forges a path down her cheek. “I slipped back into a memory with my fiancé.”
That puts me on edge and I lean forward in my chair. “Did he hurt you?”
“He can’t hurt me when he’s dead.” I watch as her lips tremble while she tries to hold it together. “Although the fact that his death still feels so raw is cause for me to say he did hurt me.”
“I’m so sorry,” if I could say anything other than that, I would. “Would you mind telling me how he passed? Maybe talking about him and your time together will help.”
She looks down at her hands and begins to tell me her story.
“We met when I was fourteen and were together for eleven years. He was the first person to champion for me. He was there when I got into fights with my parents. He cheered me on at my showcases. At eighteen I knew I would marry him.”
What’s it like to be that sure of who you’re meant to be with when you’re that young? If I was so sure I wouldn’t be divorced.
“Turns out we were on the same page. But he didn’t end up proposing to me until I graduated college. That’s what I love, or should I say loved, about him. But I guess the universe had a different plan. He was taken from me three months before our wedding.”
If I could take her pain, I would. But no matter the words I say or the gestures I make, it can never take her pain away. “I’m so sorry. I wish I had another word to say.”
Her smile is lifeless as more tears flow down her face. “For those days after I was in such denial. I kept waiting for him to walk through the door of our apartment, ready to spout off some sports stat that had been rattling around in his brain. But as the days went by and the door never opened, reality sunk in. It’s been two years and some days it’s hard for me to remember what it’s like to breathe. Or how to exist in a world where he’s not a part of it. And I know that’s selfish, I know I could heal and move on. But he was my other half.” She covers her mouth with her hand as a soft sob breaks free.
If there was ever a higher power to ensure that hearts never broke or suffered from loss, then surely us humans would sign up for that.
“My wife left me. Just decided this slower pace of city life wasn’t for her. I know her leaving doesn’t compare to your loss. But I do know what it’s like to have that emptiness inside of you.”
She looks at me through her tears as though she sees me. It’s been years since I’ve had a heart-to-heart with someone that wasn’t my son.
“I’m sorry,” she tells me.
“I’m sorry, too. I’m Adam.” It’s silly, but I hold my hand out to her.
Her hand fits in mine, almost like a missing puzzle piece before giving me a small shake. “Emily. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I didn’t really start off with a great first impression.”
I pull my hand back and shake off the tingling from her hand fitting with mine. “I won’t judge or tell anyone. So what brings you here on a Tuesday?”
“I had an open house. And wanted to get a drink with my girlfriends. But they bailed at the last minute.”
Panic ensues as I knew I was forgetting something. I’ll just have to see if Dylan has his teacher's email so I can set up a time to meet.
“So you’re a teacher?” I lean my forearms on the table in front of me. It’s a very slim chance that she’s a teacher at Dylan’s school. This area has at least twenty schools varying from elementary to high school. So the odds are slim that she’s an elementary teacher.
She takes a sip of her drink. “Mm-hmm. It’s my fourth year. The first couple of years were a blur. Not because I was still new, but I was planning my wedding and then my personal life went to shit, I didn’t think teaching wanted me anymore.”
“I really am sorry, Emily.”
“Thank you.” I watch her throat bobble with a hard swallow. “Shouldn’t you get back inside?”
“Yeah. You’re right.” I push my chair back and get up. “It was good to meet you, Emily. Stay out here for as long as you want to.”
She goes to push her chair back as well. “I should get going. It’s been a long day.”
I walk us both toward the door that leads back inside. Looking around the restaurant, I see no new customers have entered. All signs lead to getting work done and making it home before midnight.
“Can I pay my tab?” Emily asks when we’re at the bar.
Shaking my head I tell her. “It’s on the house.”
“What? I can’t let you do that.” She goes to take cash out of her wallet.
“Emily,” I start and place my hand on her forearm. “I insist. Plus it’s my bar so what I say goes.”
A rosy hue covers her cheeks and it has me wondering if it was from her drink she was slowly sipping on or the brief physical contact. The rosy hue gives her a look of innocence that sucks me in. She looks too young for me. And I have Dylan to care for. Who even knows if we’ll ever cross paths again.
“Well, thank you.”
I walk around the bar to the register, cancel her tab and hand her back her credit card.
We both linger at the bar. I’m not sure how to depart after spending the last thirty minutes talking with each other.
“You can feel your grief and your pain, for as long as you need to. There is no set timetable for when you need to move on.” The feeling that no one’s ever told her that grief doesn’t have an expiration date is evident in the tears that manage to pool in her eyes.
Her breath stutters before she looks me in the eye. “Thank you, Adam.”
“You’re welcome.”
With a final breath and a short wave, Emily walks out the door. I didn’t know what to expect tonight when she walked through the door, but it wasn't a soul-baring conversation.
Shaking myself out of the ghost of her person, I tell my bartender I’m headed to my office to get caught up on paperwork. I tackle the orders that need to be placed, payroll, tip outs and drops, and finalize the schedule for the next two weeks. By the time I finish all of my work, it’s pushing ten. I look at the small TV screens that show the front of the house and notice no one in the restaurant or bar.
Quickly calling up front, I let them know to start closing up early so we can get out of here on time.
Me: Cleaning up the restaurant. Should be home shortly.
Jenny: Sounds good. Dylan went to bed about an hour ago.
Me: Thanks, Jenny.
Dammit. I really thought I’d be out earlier. But time just got away from me. I hope Jenny doesn’t have an exam tomorrow or I’ll really feel like dirt.
I make a list of what needs to be looked at around the restaurant, post a hiring ad for a host, and work with the chef on the menu for the next coming weeks.
A knock on my office door pulls me from my thoughts, “Restaurant’s all clean boss.” My bartender, Matt, holds out his money drops for the night to me.
Looking at the time, I see another hour has flown by. Shit! I place his envelope on my desk and gather my things. I shut my computer down and follow him out of the restaurant to lock up.
“See you tomorrow, boss man.” He calls before jogging to his car.
“Later.”
Me: Time got away from me. I’ll be home shortly.
Jenny: No worries.
With no traffic, I make it home in twenty minutes. I thank Jenny profusely for staying later than intended and watch to make sure she gets to her car to leave. I finish the closing shift of my downstairs before heading upstairs and peaking in at Dylan.
A surge of pride rushes through me that this little boy is healthy and happy. How Chelsea could up and leave not only me, but our son, baffles me. His nightlight gives me enough light to see as I walk into his room as quietly as possible. Pulling his comforter back over his body, I place a light kiss on his cheek and back out of his room as softly as I can.
I pad down to the opposite end of the hallway and into my bedroom. Stripping off my work clothes, I head for the shower. All the while I think about Emily. How she broke in front of a complete stranger.
My mind drifts for the second time tonight as I think about the possibility of us running into each other again. And then I come to the conclusion that Cincinnati is a big city and the odds of us seeing each other again is slim to none.