Chapter Twenty-Six – Mabel
Your life can change in the blink of an eye. All it takes is one thing, and everything else will fall like dominos. I thought my life changed permanently for the worst when Jordan brought a gun to school and killed sixteen people. I was proven right when my mom killed herself, and for the longest time I couldn’t bear to be alive. I really did want to die, and I thought nothing would ever be okay again.
But I was wrong.
That’s the thing about life. If you stick around long enough, sooner or later things are bound to get better. Some days it might get worse, but that’s what life is: the biggest ride at the amusement park with curves and loops and drops you don’t see coming.
Sometimes I still get sad. Sometimes I drown in the wistfulness and the longing; sometimes I miss Jordan so badly I cry—but I don’t want to die anymore. Tristan shows me every single day that there is more to live for, that my life doesn’t have to be lived in the past, and Dr. Wolf is always there to help guide me through my feelings.
It’s only been two weeks since I started at The Drip. Fourteen days, just eight short, four-hour shifts, and yet it really does feel like everything has changed. Like I’m a new person. Dr. Wolf drives me to my shifts, and my dad usually picks me up unless it’s a late shift and he’s already in bed. He’s dying to come in and see me at work, but I’ve begged him not to. I’m still learning the ropes, learning how to work the machines.
Let’s just say it’s not as easy as you’d think.
Strangely, I’m also getting used to the smell of coffee beans, and that’s not something I ever thought I’d say.
Tristan is doing better, too—or, at least, that’s what I thought until I go to find him one afternoon, to grab him so he can tag along with Dr. Wolf when he drops me off at The Drip. I find him in his room, sitting hunched on the edge of his bed. The way he’s sitting mirrors the first time I saw him, only now I know what he’s looking at: his sister’s name on his arm.
And there’s another addition to today: the knife in his right hand.
The moment I see that sharp blade glistening in the early afternoon light, I rush toward him and say his name, “Tristan. What are you doing?” I’m beside him in an instant, gently reaching for the knife, but he jerks his hand away, refusing to let me have it.
With his left sleeve rolled up to his elbow, Shay’s name is plain on his skin, the scars etched thick on his flesh. “I don’t want her name on me,” he whispers, slow to meet my concerned gaze. “She’s not what keeps me going anymore. You are. It should be your name.” His grip tightens around the handle of the knife, like he’s seconds from using it on himself.
I grab the wrist near the knife to stop him, and though he doesn’t release the knife, he lets me sit beside him with my fingers curled around his wrist. “I don’t want you to cut yourself for me.” I haven’t ever seen Tristan looking at a knife like he wants to use it; he’s either good at hiding his thoughts or this really did come out of the blue.
Not sure which would be worse.
“But—” he starts.
“No,” I say it firmly, and he finally lets me take the knife from him. I set the knife on my other side, away from Tristan, before I tell him, “You will not hurt yourself for me. You did all of this to yourself because you wanted to die… you don’t want to die right now, do you?”
Tristan shakes his head once and says, “No, but if anyone’s name should be written on my skin, I want it to be yours.” It’s kind of sweet, in a weird, self-destructive way.
“Well, I’m not going to let you cut yourself for me, so…” I stand, taking the knife in one hand and offering Tristan my other. “Come on. I need to go to work. Let’s put this back in the kitchen and go get Dr. Wolf.” I’m torn about whether or not I should tell Dr. Wolf about this.
He takes my hand and stands, but before we leave his room I say, “Promise me you won’t cut yourself for me.”
I can tell he doesn’t want to; a part of him still wants to etch my name over Shay’s, but in the end Tristan relents and whispers, “I promise. I won’t cut myself.” He sounds a little sad about it, but I know he means it.
I give him a soft smile. “Thank you.” And then I stand on my tiptoes and pucker my lips for a kiss, which he immediately obliges. His mouth comes down on mine, and I hope I kiss away all of his anxieties.
Even after all this time, we’re not perfect. We are a constant work in progress. We have good days and bad; it’s part of being human. It is the human condition, and I won’t fault him for it.
I don’t tell Dr. Wolf about what I walked in on, and soon enough I’m strolling into The Drip for my next shift. Tonight I’m working with Penny; out of everyone who works here, she’s probably my favorite. So talkative and happy all the time, sometimes it feels like her attitude rubs off on me.
I head straight for the back room, where I take off my jacket and grab my apron and nametag. I put it over my clothes and clock in, right on time as always. Dr. Wolf never gets me here late, and never too early, either. If I don’t know any better, I’d say the man is a perfectionist—but he can’t be, not quite, not when he has to deal with people like Tristan and me on a daily basis.
Penny waits for me behind the counter, doing something on her phone. It’s a dead zone right now, but once five o’clock hits, we get busy with people who want to grab a coffee and some pastry on their way home. Coffee really does run this country. Don’t know where we’d be without it.
Once she sees me, she slides her phone into her pocket and grins. Her brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail; mine is in a messy bun. I always put it up before I leave the house. It takes me way too long to get it to an acceptable level of messiness.
“Hey, Mabel. How are you?” she asks, the same thing she always asks when she first sees me. It’s become a little ritual.
And I do what I always do: I shrug and say, “Same as I always am. You?”
Unlike me, she always has something different to say. Penny leans on the counter near me, huffing, “I was supposed to go visit my boyfriend this weekend, but he had to cancel because his aunt got sick and him and his family are flying out to see her.”
It’s always something with Penny. Makes me wonder if that’s how it is with most people and I just live a boring life—which I’m fine with, of course. I don’t think I could deal with a constant barrage of life-changing events or social obligations.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Now it’s her turn to shrug. “It is what it is. Can’t really be mad when someone’s sick.” She wrinkles her nose as she stares at me. “You know, it suddenly occurs to me that I have some free time this weekend. I know you mentioned you were new in town. We could hang out, if you want. I could show you all the cool, happening places. Take you to some of my favorite hiking trails.”
Hiking sounds like the worst thing ever, so I don’t know why I say, “Sure.”
Wait. What?
Penny squeals. “Yay! Let’s do it. I could pick you up or we could meet up—”
“I don’t have a car,” I say lamely.
“Oh, no problem. I’ll come get you. It’ll be fun!” She’s about three seconds from saying something else when someone strolls up to the counter to place an order. Just like that, she turns serious and morphs into someone else. “Hello, sir, welcome to The Drip. What can I get for you today?”
I get ready to either make some coffee or grab a pastry out of the counter, but then I see who it is standing on the opposite side, with his hands awkwardly stuck in his jacket’s pockets.
“Hello, uh—” There’s a pause as he glances at her nametag. “—Penny. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I was hoping she could help me.” He flashes a grin in my direction.
Before Penny can get the wrong idea, I say, “Dad. What are you doing here?” I stop myself from saying something along the lines of I specifically told you not to visit me at work yet . The whole reason, besides the fact that I don’t quite know what I’m doing yet, is because, as a dad, he’s kind of embarrassing .
The moment Penny hears it’s my dad, she starts to grin, and my dad shrugs, acting all innocent. “I just came here to see my daughter at work. Is that so wrong?”
I open my mouth to tell him that yes, it is wrong, but Penny answers him quicker than I can, “Not at all, sir. Come on, Mabel. Ring your dad out.” She steps away from the cash register, doing a mock bow as she lets me take the reins.
I want to roll my eyes at her dramatics, but all I can do is stare at my dad and give him a look that says I hope you’re happy . “What do you want?”
My dad pulls a hand out of his pocket and acts like I hurt him. “Wow. Is that any way to treat a paying customer?” When I arch my eyebrows at him, he chuckles and leans back, angling his head up to look at the menus overhead. “What’s good?”
Penny has a response ready: “Any and everything, sir.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I like you,” he says, and then to me he adds, “Can’t really have coffee since I’ll be in bed in a few hours, but I’m curious about the chocolate muffin. How chocolate-y we talking here?”
I stand there cringing, wondering why parents have to be so darn embarrassing, but it’s a good thing Penny doesn’t care, because she’s doing most of the talking here. “Let’s just say it’ll fill your chocolate quota for the month.”
“Quite the statement. Alright, let’s give it a shot. Give me one of those.” As I ring him out, he pulls out some cash. The man pays me in exact change. Penny has his chocolate muffin ready to go in a bag by the time we’re done, and before he grabs it he stuffs a ten-dollar bill into the tip jar and gives us a wink. “For the exemplary service, ladies.” With a nod and a smile, he leaves.
Penny waits until he’s out of the shop before leaning in closer to me and saying, “He’s your dad? Damn. He’s cute. How old is he?”
I want to vomit. The look I give her asks if she’s crazy. “He’s fifty.”
“Fifty? Wow. Doesn’t look like it. The man must’ve taken care of himself when he was younger, because hot damn.” The more she says, the more I want to peel off my own ears. Somehow, I can tell my dad is going to become a hot topic of conversation for Penny.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“Uh, yeah, but I don’t see what that has to do with your dad’s hotness.”
The only thing I can do is stare at her like she’s grown a third eye. Actually, the third eye thing makes more sense than her finding my dad hot—because ew . I’d take third eyes, fourth eyes, any number of extra eyes really, over that.
Penny finds my uncomfortableness amusing, because she laughs a certain kind of belly laugh I haven’t heard before.
I’m so caught up in the whole Penny-finds-my-dad-hot thing that I neglect to notice someone else came in and walked up to the register, someone who now waits patiently for his turn, glancing between Penny and me, though his gaze mostly lingers on me.
Another middle-aged man. Totally average as middle-aged men go as far as I’m concerned, but who knows? Maybe Penny will want to marry him.
Penny scoots me off the register and flashes the customer a wide, toothy grin. “Sorry for the wait, sir. How can we help you?” Her good mood beams out, infectious to most people, but the man on the other side of the counter doesn’t so much as crack a smile.
“A large black coffee,” he says, glancing at me.
Penny rings him out, and while he hands over a five, I get to work, making him his black coffee. I’m getting used to the smell of coffee grounds, yes, but I still can’t wrap my head around anyone who takes their coffee black. No sugar, no milk, no anything. Talk about yuck in a cup.
Once it’s done, I set the coffee on the counter near him and give him a smile—on Penny’s instructions. If you smile at them, they’re more likely to give you a tip, even the ones who pay on a card. I don’t know why it matters; we make okay money since this is the only coffee shop in town. No Starbucks here.
But the smile is wasted on the customer. He stares at me for a moment, takes the coffee, and goes to sit in the far corner to nurse it.
Now that no one is in line, Penny whispers, “See? That guy doesn’t hold a candle to your dad. Sorry to say it, Mabel, but your dad is a total DILF.” The way she says it, like she’s semi-apologetic to bring me the news, doesn’t make the information land any better in my ears.
Unfortunately for me, Penny has now found a topic she just won’t let go. Basically all night I’m forced to listen to question after question about my dad. She even asks about my mom—I don’t tell her that she committed suicide, but I do tell her that she’s dead.
Which, I realize only after I tell her that, is a mistake, because that means my dad is single.
I mean, he is, technically, but at the same time he’s not. He still wears his wedding ring. He’s still mourning my mom. I don’t know that he’ll ever be ready to date, but if or when he does, I sure as heck hope it’ll be someone his age and not my new coworker friend.
The afternoon gives way to early dusk. Penny and I work our butts off during the after-work rush, and then it slows to a steady trickle. It gets dark shortly after that, and then it’s basically just completing daily duties before we close.
I like closing with Penny. She’s always so lively; helps to not only pass the time but also to keep me wide awake.
I clean, Penny counts down the register. We do everything that we need to do in record time. We walk out together, and as she locks up I realize I don’t see Dr. Wolf’s car anywhere. Odd.
Penny stuffs the keys into her coat and moves beside me, looking all around. “Your ride isn’t here? You want me to wait with you?” And then she comes up with another solution: “Or I could drive you home?”
She’s nice. She means it. She’d do it in a heartbeat if I asked her to.
Still, I haven’t told her that I’m living with Dr. Wolf and not my dad, and that’s not something I feel comfortable sharing just yet.
“No, that’s okay,” I tell her. “I’m sure my ride will be here soon. Go home. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” Penny sounds concerned, and I half expect her to stay regardless even though I told her I was okay.
I give her a nod and wander to the nearest bench on the sidewalk. “Yep. Go home. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself alone for a few minutes.”
“Okay,” Penny says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, chica .” Still so upbeat, even with a world of night around us. She bounces to her car on the side of the building, giving me a wave before disappearing out of my sight. I hear her car turn on, and then I watch as she drives away, the only car on the road nearby.
Sitting there in the dark, with only the moon’s light shining down on me, I’m struck by how different Main Street looks after everything is closed. No businesses keep their lights on; there are a few street lights, but they’re dim and far between.
The night breeze wraps around me, making me shiver, and I stick my hands into my jacket and wait for Dr. Wolf.
Only it’s not Dr. Wolf or Tristan who comes for me.