40. Marnie
CHAPTER FORTY
Marnie
Caleb staying over last night brought me a new level of comfort I didn’t know I needed.
After we woke up this morning, he made me breakfast while I sat on the stool at the kitchen island and recounted everything that went down with Irene.
I shared as much as I remembered, but I had already started to block a lot of it out in the spirit of moving on and not getting caught up in things that are now out of my control.
He did the same thing once I was done, and told me what happened with his dad. Everything from the apology he received to revealing his dad is in therapy to finally getting closure on his mom and getting to scatter her ashes together.
No wonder he came right over and just collapsed. That must’ve taken everything out of him.
Caleb left with Berry about an hour ago, leaving me to get ready for work alone.
He is filling in for someone at another job site through the rest of the week since everything for the exhibit is complete. Installation finished last week and all my time since then has been spent putting any last-minute, final touches on the exhibit.
I’m finishing my second cup of coffee, unable to stop staring at the gift from Caleb.
An authentic, one-of-a-kind signed Jaws cast photo courtesy of Art.
It was sitting on his counter covered neatly in a shiny cerulean wrapping paper when I went to pick up Berry, and I brought it with me since I figured he’d want to be there when I opened it yesterday.
His eyes never left mine the entire time I unwrapped it, and he relished in my surprise when I realized what it was.
Replaying that moment in my head puts everything into perspective.
Caleb has been with me every step of the way for this exhibit.
Everything from the initial planning phase to brainstorming blueprint sketches to the final stage of installation.
Knowing that he went out of his way once again to do something special for me brings out an unfamiliar emotion that I hadn’t been able to name before.
But there’s no denying it now.
I’m completely, irrefutably, head over heels in love with Caleb Hansen.
Today is the final walk-through, now only two days out from the unveiling.
I can’t believe the day is almost here.
With everything that has gone down in the last few days, I opted to walk to the historical society to arrive with a clear mind. There’s only one thing that can bring a smile to my face besides seeing Caleb—a pumpkin spice latte.
I push open the door to Wicked Brews and the familiar scent of coffee and sugar welcomes me in. Art is behind the counter writing on a sheet of paper. Thankfully, there is no one else in the shop this morning.
He looks up as I cross the threshold. “Marnie! How are you, dear?”
“Hi, Art,” I greet him. “Honestly? I’ve been better.”
A sympathetic expression crosses his face. “I’m sorry to hear that. Go grab a seat and we can talk. Your usual?”
“Yes, please,” I say, reaching into my bag for my wallet.
Art waves his hand to dismiss it. “On me.”
I flash a small smile and turn to head toward the couches in the back corner. Art returns after a few minutes, two drinks in hand. He places mine on the coffee table in front of us, and I reach down to grab it and take a sip. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. What’s on your mind?” he inquires.
I tell him everything that’s transpired over the last few days. The article, my confrontation with Irene, all of it.
When I’m done, I see him looking at me with understanding eyes.
“I know the feeling,” he fidgets with his cup, sagging back against the couch. “Maybe in a slightly different context, but all the same.”
My brows knit together. “How so?”
We’ve never spoken so freely—so candidly—before. It’s refreshing.
Art releases a sigh and looks up at me earnestly.
“I don’t like to talk about it, but my wife, Anita, passed a few years ago.
It’s been hard, and some days it feels like I can’t go on.
Like my life is falling apart in front of me and everything is out of my control and I am powerless to stop it.
” He pauses to take a small sip of his coffee before continuing, hand shaking slightly as he returns the cup to his lap.
“Halloween was her favorite holiday, and this coffee shop was her dream. Every year when we celebrate Halfway to Halloween, hell, every day in this Halloween-themed coffee shop, I am reminded of what I lost.”
A piece of my heart breaks for him. “I’m so sorry, Art. I had no idea.” That kind of loss is unfathomable.
He dips his head in gratitude. “But if I let that affect me, it will consume me. So, I have to find a way. I have to persevere.” Art brings his hand to mine and gives it a small squeeze, settling some of the uncertainty inside me.
“And I know that it feels like your world is falling apart right now,” he continues with an encouraging smile, “but you, too, will find a way.”
His words tug at something inside me. Art has always been kind, but stepping in to offer me a familial comfort in my time of need—something my own parents have not been capable of doing—is a kindness I’ll never be able to repay.
I let his words sink in.
“So,” he begins. “What now? What happens after this weekend when the exhibit finally unveils and your work is done?”
“I have no clue,” I admit. “All I know is that I don’t want to return to Boston.”
Finally uttering those words aloud, I already feel another weight being lifted.
Now that I am technically unemployed, I have no idea what I am going to do after this exhibit wraps.
I’ve never left a job or an internship without something else already lined up.
Despite how terrified that makes me feel, it also makes me feel hopeful.
I know that wherever I end up, no matter what I am doing, it will be alright.
“Well, I could always use some more help around here. I know it doesn’t pay what you are used to, but it could be something in the meantime.”
He’s so sincere when he says it that I can’t help but smile.
“Thank you, Art. I just might take you up on that.”
“No pressure. Just a thought,” he replies with a smile.
He recognizes the need for a subject change, and we begin discussing today’s tip jar question of what makes a good found footage horror movie.
We both agree that immersion, if done well, is a game changer for the audience to experience everything through the characters’ perspectives, enhancing the terror and suspense that other styles of horror movies simply can’t capture.
Art gives me a strong hug on my way out, and I leave Wicked Brews rejuvenated. Our conversation was a breath of fresh air and exactly the reassurance I needed.
Now I just need to talk to Caleb.