43. Fia
Fia
My arms might fall off from scrubbing so hard, but I can’t stop. Can you have a sudden onset of obsessive cleaning at twenty-two years old?
I need to Google that later.
“I already wiped those tables down.” Halle comes up behind me.
I drop the rag back in the bucket of sanitizer.
“I know, but it doesn’t hurt to do it again.” My words come quickly. “Hey, did anyone get to the bathrooms yet?” I take a step around my friend, towards the counter.
“Fia, it’s almost three o’clock.” Halle follows me, looking concerned.
“I have five minutes, I can at least scrub the toilet.” I smile and wave dismissively, already grabbing the cleaning supplies from the storage closet.
“You’re the manager, you don’t need to do that,” she calls out after me, eyes wide.
Halle is right, managers don’t do this.
But I can’t stop.
It’s been almost three days since I told Caden I needed space. He gave me what I asked for. He hasn’t called, texted, or come to my door.
He hasn’t stepped foot in the coffee shop this week. To anyone else, that would appear normal. But after the kiss, he started surprising me here. After I gave myself to him, he was making up excuses to see me as much as he could.
His Jeep was also gone all day Sunday and didn’t reappear until I got home from work on Monday.
My mind went to dark places—maybe he went to someone’s house, slept it off at Matt’s.
Or he finally realized he is freed from the burden of having to fix things for Fia Hanson, and he’s off celebrating that newfound freedom.
Maybe he found a new girl.
I laugh bitterly, blowing hair out of my face, my two-day-old braid coming undone as I lean over the toilet scrubbing with vengeance.
“Fuck!” My hand slips from the toilet brush, right into the water. I start gagging, rushing to the sink to scrub my arm, pumping as much soap as I can.
I glance up at the mirror, appalled at what I see.
“Fia, what are you doing?” I whisper to myself. There’s a knock at the door, snapping me out of it, and I put back on my professional expression, clean up my mess, and leave the bathroom with a smile.
It’s not a customer though, it’s Halle.
“Are you okay? I heard you scream in there.”
I wipe my face with my upper arm. “Yeah, it’s just gross.”
Halle trails me back to the counter, her arms crossed.
“You one-hundred-percent sure you’re good?” she asks skeptically.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell Halle what happened between Caden and me, or about the drama with my sister for that matter. Halle was so excited about passing her exam, and the last thing I wanted to do was bring her down.
Turns out, I’m not the actress I thought I was because she’s been staring at me all day like I’m a three-headed goat.
“Yes!” I enthuse with a fake smile. “Actually, did I tell you? I’m moving back home on Thursday.”
Halle’s smile falters, like she’s unsure if this is good or bad.
I grab her shoulders and shake her. “It’s good news. The repairs are done early.” I wave my hand in the air. “Out of the freaking guesthouse I go.”
Halle cocks her head back. “That’s great . . . Thought you liked the guesthouse though?”
Punching my finger into the tablet, I clock myself out, throwing my name tag under the counter for tomorrow. “It was fine. It’s time to go home though.”
A dull ache radiates from my temples, from faking a smile all day. I pull her in for a quick goodbye hug, and Halle stumbles back when I let go of her.
“Oh, uhm—”
“Okay, see you tomorrow, Hal!” I cut her off, grab my purse, and walk straight out the front door.
I exhale once I’m in my car and cautiously look at my phone. I suck in a gasp when I see Caden’s name.
Caden: You asked for space, and I want to respect that . . . but I need to talk to you, Fia. Please.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, but everything I type feels wrong. I’m moving out in two days, I have to start packing, and I’m running on little sleep.
All I want is a time machine, to go back a week, when everything was perfect. But right now I need to keep it together for Daisy, I have fences to mend with my family, and if Caden truly cares, he will wait. He will give me more time, more space.
I don’t reply and set my phone down, but another text pings through, and I fumble for my phone, heart racing.
Jesse: Penny has been blasting show tunes the entire day. Please for the sake of my sanity, and Tank’s, talk to your sister.
“Ugh.” I rest my head on the hot steering wheel that’s been baking all day in the sun. Penny only listens to show tunes when she is distraught.
Fia: I promise I will soon. Give me a little more time. I’ll fix this.
It’s not a lie, it’s a hope.