Chapter 6 - Riot #2
I let her pull me. Let myself be dragged toward this woman I barely know, this teacher with the gentle dog and the nervous hands who came looking for me yesterday just to say thank you.
This woman who might be the reason I finally stop running.
We reach the table, and Alice stands up, still smiling. "Good morning. I was starting to worry you changed your mind."
"Never," I say, and I realize I mean it. "Maya had a wardrobe crisis. Three outfit changes."
"I wanted to look pretty for Biscuit," Maya announces, and Alice's expression softens even more.
"You look absolutely beautiful," Alice tells her seriously. "Biscuit is very impressed."
Biscuit, for his part, is wagging his tail so hard his entire back end is moving. Maya drops to her knees to hug him, and the dog accepts the attention like he's been waiting his whole life for this exact moment.
"Coffee?" Alice asks me, gesturing to the menu. "They have pretty much everything. And the pancakes are actually amazing. I wasn't lying about that."
I sit down across from her, and for the first time in six months, I don't feel the urge to look over my shoulder. Don't feel the need to plan my exit strategy or scout for trouble.
I just feel... present.
"Coffee sounds perfect," I say.
A waitress appears almost immediately: young, maybe early twenties, with a name tag that says "Jenny." She takes one look at me, then at Alice, and something knowing crosses her face.
"Morning, Alice," she says warmly. "Your usual?"
"Please," Alice says, and I notice the slight flush creeping up her neck. "And maybe some orange juice for Maya? If that's okay?" She looks at me for confirmation.
"That's fine," I tell her, then look at Jenny. "Black coffee. And whatever breakfast special you've got."
"Pancakes with eggs and bacon," Jenny says. "Best thing on the menu. Maya, what about you, sweetheart?"
Maya is still on the ground with Biscuit, but she looks up at the mention of her name. "Chocolate chip pancakes! With whipped cream! And strawberries if you have them!"
"We definitely have them," Jenny confirms, writing it all down. "This is so sweet," she adds, looking between me and Alice. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone, Alice."
"We're not—" Alice starts, her face going from pink to red.
"Just breakfast," I finish for her, but even I can hear how unconvincing it sounds.
Jenny gives us both a look that says she's not buying it for a second. "Right. Just breakfast. I'll get these orders in for you."
She disappears, and Alice covers her face with her hands. "Oh my God. By noon, the entire town is going to think we're dating."
"Does that bother you?" I ask, surprising myself with the question.
She lowers her hands, looks at me with those dark eyes. "I don't know. Does it bother you?"
"No."
The word comes out more firmly than I intended, and I watch something shift in her expression. Not quite relief, but close.
"Okay then," she says softly. "I guess we're just two people having breakfast who don't care what the town thinks."
"Exactly."
Maya finally abandons Biscuit long enough to climb into the chair next to me, though she keeps one hand stretched out so she can still pet him. "Do you teach all the kids?"
"I teach fourth grade," Alice explains. "So, kids who are about nine or ten years old. But you'd start in pre-kindergarten, which is a different classroom with Mrs. Henderson. She's wonderful. She's been teaching for a really long time and she loves dinosaurs."
"I like dinosaurs!" Maya's eyes light up. "My favorite is the triceratops because it has three horns and that's cool."
"That is very cool," Alice agrees seriously. "Mrs. Henderson has a whole dinosaur corner in her classroom. With books and toys and even some fossil replicas."
I watch them talk, watch Maya come alive in a way she hasn't in months. She's always been social, always loved meeting new people, but on the road there's only so much socializing a four-year-old can do. Diners and gas stations and the occasional park don't exactly provide consistent friendships.
"Your dad mentioned you've been to a lot of states," Alice says. "Which one was your favorite?"
Maya thinks about it seriously, her little face scrunched up in concentration. "Colorado. Because we saw mountains and they were really big. And there were chipmunks."
"Chipmunks are very important," Alice says, completely straight-faced, and something warm spreads through my chest at the way she's treating Maya's answer like it's the most reasonable thing in the world.
"What about you, Daddy?" Maya asks. "What was your favorite?"
I think about it. Six months of riding, dozens of towns, countless miles of highway. "This state," I say finally. "The sky is bigger than anywhere else. Makes everything feel... possible."
Alice is looking at me, "That sounds beautiful."
"It is." I lean back in my chair, trying to relax even though every instinct I have is telling me to stay alert, stay ready. Old habits.
"What are you thinking now? Leaving? Staying?"
"I'm thinking maybe it's time to stop passing through."
Maya has gone back to petting Biscuit, oblivious to the weight of what I just said. But Alice heard it. I can see it in her eyes—the question, the hope, maybe even the fear.
"Because of Maya," I add, even though it's not entirely true. "She needs stability. Friends. A real school, not just whatever I can teach her between towns."
"You've been homeschooling her?"
"If you can call it that. Basic reading, math, whatever I remember from my own education." I shrug. "She's smart. Picks things up quick. But she deserves better than me fumbling through multiplication tables in motel rooms."
"I think you're probably a better teacher than you give yourself credit for," Alice says quietly. "She's confident, articulate, clearly well-cared-for. That doesn't happen by accident."
The compliment hits me harder than it should. I'm not used to people noticing the things I do right, too focused on cataloging everything I'm doing wrong.
Jenny returns with our drinks and Maya's orange juice. "Food'll be out in about ten minutes," she says, then looks at Alice. "Claire called the diner looking for you. Said something about needing to know how breakfast went?"
Alice groans. "Of course she did. Tell her I'll call her later?"
"Will do." Jenny grins and heads back inside.
"Friend of yours?" I ask.
"Best friend. Also the nosiest person in Blackwater Falls." But Alice is smiling when she says it, the kind of smile that says she wouldn't have it any other way. "She helped me pick out what to wear this morning. Had very strong opinions about it."
I look at the blue sweater again, the way it fits her, the way the color makes her eyes impossible to look away from. "She has good taste."
Alice's blush returns, spreading across her cheeks. "Thank you."
Maya tugs on my sleeve. "Daddy, can I sit with Biscuit?"
"You are sitting with Biscuit, baby."
"No, I mean with him. Like, next to him on the ground."
I look at Alice, who nods. "He won't mind. He's very patient with kids."
"Okay, but stay where I can see you."
Maya slides off her chair and settles on the ground next to Biscuit, who immediately rests his head in her lap like he's known her his whole life. She starts talking to him in a low voice and the dog listens like every word is fascinating.
"She's going to want a dog now," I say, watching them. "This is going to be a problem."
"Dogs are good problems to have," Alice says, and there's something in her voice, something warm and a little sad. "Biscuit's been really good for me. Got him about three months ago from the shelter."
I wait, sensing there's more she wants to say. She's gripping her coffee mug a little too tight, staring at Biscuit and Maya like they're the safest thing to look at.
"I needed something that was just mine," she continues. "Something that couldn't be... rearranged or criticized or taken away." She shakes her head slightly, like she's said too much. "Sorry. That probably sounds weird."
"It doesn't," I tell her, and I mean it. There's a story there: something that hurt her, something that made her need a dog with floppy ears and unconditional love. I want to ask, want to know who made this woman feel like she needed permission to have something of her own.
But the food arrives before I can, Jenny balancing plates like a circus performer.
"Chocolate chip pancakes with extra whipped cream for the princess," she announces, setting Maya's plate in front of her spot. "Orange juice, also for the princess. Regular pancakes and coffee for the grown-ups. Anything else I can get you?"
"We're good," I tell her. "Thanks."
Maya climbs back into her chair, eyes wide at the mountain of whipped cream on her pancakes. "This is the best day ever," she breathes.
And watching her dig in, watching Alice smile at her enthusiasm, sitting here in the morning sun with decent coffee and the first good feeling I've had in months...
I think maybe she's right.