Chapter 8
Janie had left the message unopened for four hours. When the gray checks turned blue, Hannah would expect an answer, and Janie wanted to ignore it as long as possible. But it was a constant, nagging presence in her purse, a portent of dread, and she eventually succumbed.
They miss you. When can you come home? x
Her stomach churned. They were simple words, non-confrontational, yet they hit like a direct assault because it was a cruel, impossible request. Janie’s chest tightened, steel bands cinching around her ribs until each breath was a shallow, painful effort.
Why couldn’t she just stay silent and unresponsive?
And if she did, how long would Hannah persist before she realized she was wasting her time and love on a wife who didn’t deserve it?
She’d been surrounded by silence in the rented apartment.
The walls were sound-proofed, so the busy lives of her many temporary neighbors didn’t encroach on the absence of Tia’s naughty little giggle, or Luna’s cute squeal, or Chloe’s precious gurgles.
And that silence held its own kind of torture, a crushing and suffocating iron maiden reinforcing her loneliness.
It had driven her out of the vacuum within those four walls and somehow, she found herself driving back to the small café in Pilsen.
She hadn’t chosen to head that direction, not really.
It was more like an instinctual movement toward something she couldn’t name, a magnetic pull toward the strange women she’d met a few short days ago.
She figured it’d probably be closed this late on a Friday anyway, and maybe she’d drive to the aquarium and sit on the spit of land surrounding it.
The view of the city from there was stunning; it was somewhere Hannah had taken her early on in their relationship…
Perhaps she wouldn’t go there. She needed somewhere new, somewhere not dripping with memories of her family.
But there were still lights on in Maria and Mirta’s little establishment, and the same space she’d occupied last Sunday was empty, so she pulled in and cut the engine.
She didn’t move for a while, trying to decide whether or not this had been a stupid idea.
No imaginary force had drawn her here. She had chosen to come.
Because I’m desperate. Desperate for what?
The two old women were strangely wonderful to her, and the few hours she’d spent with them had been somehow magical.
But maybe her vulnerability and weakness had caused her to grasp at the unusual offer of a break from the reality threatening to overwhelm her.
The gentle tapping on her passenger window was familiar and comforting. Janie looked into the same kind eyes and saw that same silken, gentle smile. Just as before, she rolled down the window, and Maria ignored it, getting into the passenger seat instead.
“We must stop meeting like this or people will talk,” Maria said and wiggled her bushy eyebrows.
“That’d be a hell of an age-gap,” Janie said without thinking.
“Sass,” Maria said. “I’m not a day over thirty; I’ve just had a hard life. It’s working for my old friend Dutch.” She tapped her nose.
“I’m sure it is.” Janie frowned at her conspiratorial smile, since she had no idea who Maria was talking about. Why had she come here?
“Anyway, you’re too old for me.” Maria’s wrinkles multiplied with her deep smile. “Have you come for coffee?” she asked. “Our decaf is made with the Swiss Water process. No chemicals here.”
Janie looked at the café, a beacon of light and life on the otherwise dark and quiet street.
Every seat she could see was full: a group of young people were huddled over their laptops, an elderly man sat in the window seat with a newspaper spread across his small table, and a young woman with more piercings than Janie could count was engaged in animated conversation with another woman who could easily have been Maria’s sister.
The connection between the seemingly unconnected people was almost tangible, like colored cosmic string joining them all together.
So many people sharing a moment, sharing this special place.
“It looks busy,” she said quietly and moved her hand toward the start button.
Maria wrapped her cool hand around Janie’s, and she squeezed gently. “You came all this way for something,” she said.
Janie sighed deeply and dropped her hand. “I did?”
Maria nodded, and her eyes sparkled. “A special treat. Come on.”
Janie didn’t know what she’d come for, but it definitely wasn’t that.
She got out of the car anyway and once again noticed Maria didn’t close her door until Janie joined her on the sidewalk.
“Did you think I’d bolt?” she asked, her mood lightening as she enjoyed the easy repetition of their first meeting.
Maria wiggled her hand from side to side, then laughed in that same honeyed way that had set Janie so at ease before. She hooked her arm in Janie’s and tugged her toward the café.
Last time, Janie hadn’t noticed the chime above the door that welcomed them with a cheerful metal tinkling. It seemed so old-fashioned but suited the place perfectly. The warm air, scented with freshly baked pastries and strong coffee, hit her nostrils, and she relaxed a little more.
“Janie! We hoped you would come back.” Mirta came from around the counter and wrapped her arms around Janie.
She stiffened a little at the uninvited contact, and Mirta’s embrace grew tighter in response, like a human swaddling blanket.
Janie’s body uncoiled without her permission, allowing her to take comfort from the unexpected gesture.
She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her this long, and despite herself, she didn’t pull away.
Hannah used to, but things had changed since the triplets had come along.
“Let the poor girl go, Mirta,” Maria said. “She’s come for something sweet, not an awkward hug with a sour viejita.”
Mirta released Janie slowly and smiled. “Paja! I’m not a total stranger. And I’m not the one who jumped in her car like a vieja loca.” She wrinkled her nose toward Maria before taking Janie’s hand to lead her to the only empty table. “I’ll be right back with just what you need.”
“Thank you,” Janie said, doubting it, but she smiled anyway, not wanting to reject their kindness or upset either of them.
But it was more than that, wasn’t it? She didn’t want to burst whatever bubble of unreality she’d been absorbed into.
However alien this situation was, she didn’t want it to end.
Surrounded by all these strangers, most of whom had looked up and smiled, every inch of difference marked her out, and yet…
Being among them, especially Maria and Mirta, sent a flicker of something dangerously close to relief through her.
Maria took the seat opposite her, looking at Janie in a way that made her want to sob and shrink away. The deep knowing in her brown eyes was intimidating but comforting, like there was nothing she hadn’t seen before, like nothing could shock her or spur her to hasty judgment.
“How have you been?” Maria asked, her soothing voice somehow lowering Janie’s internal volume.
Janie sifted through the detritus of her week.
Client meetings. Court appointments. The disastrous night out when she’d publicly destroyed a colleague.
And then there was the grinding ache of missing her children, her wife, and the life she’d dismantled with her own hands.
“Fine,” she said, hearing it sound as flat and hollow as she felt inside.
The door chime drew her attention away from Maria’s inquisitive gaze, and a group of five young men came in, loud and energetic.
Janie didn’t want to react the way she did, fear zipping through her like a lightning strike, and she hated herself for it on so many levels.
The fact that she wasn’t alone and that there were at least thirty people around her should’ve provided some safety, but it didn’t.
Thirty people were useless against the potential of five guns.
And she knew of so many horror stories, so many women powerless in the face of male entitlement.
She became aware of Maria’s hand on her forearm, and her heartbeat slowed slightly.
“Relax, patoja.”
Heat flushed Janie’s neck and face, mortified that Maria had registered her discomfort.
The guys were clearly local and had far more right to be there than she did.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hating the years of learned dread.
No matter how formidable she was in a courtroom, out on the street that counted for nothing.
“Don’t worry.”
Janie twirled her wedding ring and tried to concentrate on its solidity beneath her fingers instead of monitoring the men in her peripheral vision.
Once again, she noted that no payment was made.
If this had been her first time here, she would’ve assumed some nefarious activity, such as gang members providing protection to the café in exchange for cash and unlimited coffee.
Criminals needed caffeinating as much as the next person.
But she hadn’t seen any money or card transactions on her last visit either.
“I’ve never seen a café operate an ongoing credit policy,” she said, unable and perhaps unwilling to suppress her interest in discovering more about the enigmatic Maria and her adorable café.
Maria chuckled. Her soft wrinkles deepened, and her eyes sparkled mischievously, belying her age. “Is that what you think is happening here?”
Janie bit her bottom lip and frowned. “Isn’t it?” The possibility that the place might be a front for a drug cartel disappeared almost as quickly as it had popped into her head. That would require money to be crossing the counter, idiot.
“Some things should not be for sale. A great cup of coffee, a safe haven, a little community. These things should be available to all.”