Chapter 13
BETH
Iwasn’t prepared for the storm that hit after that courier left.
Word traveled fast in this town, and the sight of someone from Chris’s world standing in the diner, delivering envelopes to me, sent the small-town gossip mill into overdrive.
The regulars kept sneaking glances at me when they thought I wasn’t paying attention, and I could almost hear their whispers.
Was it about Chris? Was he buying me out?
Why was she still here if she’d left Seattle?
It felt like my every move was being scrutinized, like I had some grand plan to keep secret.
I tried not to let it get to me, but every shift felt heavier than the one before.
It was hard enough focusing on the work with Lisa without worrying about what people were saying behind my back.
And the work itself didn’t make it any easier.
Lisa’s diner ran on long hours and sweat.
My body, so accustomed to the softness of penthouse living, was now struggling to keep up.
It didn’t take long before the strain started to show.
The mornings were a battle against exhaustion.
The first few days, I’d tell myself I was just tired, just adjusting to the change. But the dizziness? That was new.
It hit me mid-morning. I was carrying a tray of dirty dishes to the back when everything tilted, like the floor had suddenly shifted beneath me.
I stumbled, catching myself on the edge of the counter before dropping everything.
The clatter of plates echoed through the quiet diner.
My breath hitched in my throat as I steadied myself, trying to act normal, hoping no one had noticed.
My head spun, but I pushed through it, stacking the dishes into the sink and wiping my brow with a shaky hand.
Lisa came into the kitchen right after, eyeing me carefully. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just a little dizzy,” I muttered, focusing on the sink. “Probably need more coffee.”
She didn’t believe me, but she didn’t push.
That was Lisa, though. She knew when to let things lie and when to poke.
But I saw her watching me more closely after that, especially whenever I had to lift anything or stand too long in one spot.
I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t exactly the picture of health.
My hands shook, my legs ached in ways they never had before, and I was so damn tired.
I had tried telling myself that I was out of shape from being too sedentary for too long, and it had to be part of it.
But it didn’t explain the way my heart would suddenly race for no reason, or how the dizziness crept up more frequently throughout the day.
It felt like my body was betraying me at the worst possible times, making it impossible to keep my head up around people.
I didn’t need to be sick right now, not when I was already juggling so much.
My emotions were already a mess with Chris sending money and messengers and me having to figure out how to navigate life on my own terms, and the last thing I wanted to think about was my health spiraling.
By midday, the whispers had died down, at least out loud, but they lingered in the air like smoke after a fire.
People talked. That was the small town way.
Every sideways glance felt like it was loaded with judgment.
But there was no room for me to break, no time to process what I was feeling.
Lisa needed me, and I needed the distraction of the work, even if my body was screaming for a break.
I kept moving, kept doing, trying to prove to everyone, and maybe to myself, that I could handle this.
But by the time the diner closed in the evening, the dizziness hit me harder than before.
The world blurred at the edges as I wiped down the last table, and I had to sit down for a moment before Lisa noticed.
She was counting the cash in the register, her back to me, and I quickly shoved myself upright, pretending like nothing was wrong.
My legs were shaky, but I pushed through the back door, breathing in the cool night air.
The alley behind the diner was quiet, just the faint hum of the fridge and the distant sounds of traffic.
I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes, trying to steady myself.
My stomach churned with a wave of nausea, and I breathed through it, willing it away.
It didn’t matter. This was nothing. I wasn’t about to let a little dizziness stop me.
Lisa had been giving me a home, a job, something real, and I wasn’t going to repay her by falling apart on her watch.
So, I straightened, pushed my hair out of my face, and walked back inside, keeping my head down.
Lisa finished with the register and came over, her eyes narrowing at the sight of me. “You sure you’re feeling okay? You’re looking a little pale.”
“I’m good.” I forced a smile. “Just a long day.”
She didn’t argue. We cleaned in silence, the quiet between us filled with the clinks of dishes and the soft scrape of chairs on the floor.
I could tell she had more to say, but she kept it to herself.
For that, I was grateful. I didn’t want to explain myself or admit that I couldn’t keep up.
I needed this. Needed to prove that I could do more than just float through life like some kind of ornament.
I had to show myself that I was capable of something real.
But by the time we finished, my body felt like lead.
Every movement was sluggish, and my vision kept swimming in and out.
I stumbled over to the couch in the break room, collapsing onto the worn cushions.
I should have felt relieved, but all I felt was a deep, bone-tired exhaustion mixed with fear. What was wrong with me?
Lisa walked in, drying her hands on a dish towel. She looked at me for a long moment, her brow creased with worry. “You should go get some sleep.”
I wanted to, but even the thought of moving up those stairs felt like climbing a mountain. “I think I’ll just stay down here for a bit.”
She didn’t push. Just turned off the kitchen light and left me sitting there in the dark.
I leaned my head back against the couch, the hum of the fridge my only company.
It wasn’t just the fatigue. Something was off, something bigger than just stress or too much time away from manual labor.
I closed my eyes, trying to will the dizziness to fade, but it stayed with me, clinging like a shadow.
And as the silence deepened, I realized that maybe this wasn’t just me struggling to adjust. Maybe my body was telling me something I wasn’t ready to hear.
The next morning came too early. The alarm on my phone buzzed, yanking me from a restless sleep filled with dreams of falling, of things just out of reach.
My limbs felt heavy, like they were weighed down with stones.
When I stood up, the room swayed, and I reached for the nightstand to steady myself.
It was worse than yesterday, and that scared me.
This wasn’t normal. I didn’t feel normal.
I dragged myself out of the room, trying to focus on getting to the kitchen and putting on a brave face. Lisa was already there, moving around the space with her usual energy. I forced a smile, grabbed a cup of coffee, and got ready for another long day.
“Morning,” she greeted me, pouring a cup for herself. She glanced at me, but said nothing else. It felt like an unspoken truce, that neither of us would mention how awful I looked or how unsteady I was on my feet.
But by mid-morning, it was harder to hide.
While wiping down a table, the room spun so violently, I had to grab the chair to keep from falling.
The rush of nausea made me swallow hard, and I stayed frozen for a moment, waiting for the wave to pass.
When I dared to move again, Lisa was standing right beside me, her expression soft but concerned.
“Beth,” she said gently, touching my arm, “let me take this table. You should sit down for a minute.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, even though my voice wavered. The last thing I needed was to seem weak. Not now, not when I was still figuring things out, still trying to find my place here. “I just got up too fast.”
Lisa hesitated, her eyes flicking between me and the customers who were starting to look in our direction. She sighed, clearly torn, then took the rag from my hands. “Go to the back for a minute. Grab some water.”
I didn’t argue. I was too tired to. My legs felt like jelly as I made my way to the kitchen, but I kept my head high, determined to not let this get the best of me.
At least in front of people, I had to hold it together.
The whispers were bad enough without me giving anyone more fuel to gossip about.
I needed to be strong, if only for appearances.
The thought alone made the nausea roll in my stomach again, but I pushed it down. I could do this. I had to do this.
By lunchtime, my energy was gone. I moved through the diner in a fog, smiling at customers, nodding like everything was fine, while inside I felt like I was falling apart.
Each step was a battle. My vision blurred at the edges, and I kept having to stop, taking deep breaths to clear my head before anyone saw.
Every time the dizziness hit, it was worse, like my body was fighting me more with each passing hour.
At one point, I dropped a tray of glasses, the shattering sound pulling everyone’s attention.
My hands trembled as I knelt to clean up the mess, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Lisa swooped in with a broom and dustpan, shooting me a look that told me enough.
She knew something was wrong, even if I refused to admit it.
But still, I stayed quiet, picking up the larger shards while she swept the smaller pieces.
“You need to rest,” she muttered under her breath.
“I can’t,” I whispered back. “There’s too much to do.”
“Then let me handle it. You’re not helping if you’re about to keel over.”
I bit my lip, nodding silently. She was right, but it killed me to accept that I wasn’t pulling my weight.
I stood up, my head spinning again, but this time, I didn’t try to hide it as I leaned on the counter.
The room tilted, and I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths to steady myself.
Lisa was at my side in an instant, her arm wrapping around my waist, guiding me to a chair before I collapsed.
The diner had gone quiet again, customers glancing over, concerned or curious, but Lisa ignored them. “I’ll take care of the tables,” she said softly, her voice firm but filled with worry. “Just sit here and don’t move.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without breaking.
She walked away, and I sat there, staring at the floor, feeling more defeated than I had in days.
What was happening to me? This wasn’t just exhaustion, or stress.
It was something more, and the fact that I didn’t know what made it so much worse.
I couldn’t even take care of myself properly, let alone help out here.
By the time Lisa closed up that night, I was barely able to help her wipe down the counters.
She sent me to sit down, insisting I didn’t need to push myself, and for once, I didn’t argue.
The dizziness hadn’t let up all day, and my body was a mess of aches and fatigue.
I sank onto the couch in the break room, closing my eyes, willing everything to just stop spinning for five damn minutes.
Lisa walked in, the dim light from the hallway casting shadows across her face.
She pulled a chair over to sit near me, her arms crossed, but she didn’t say anything right away.
I didn’t mind the quiet. I didn’t trust my voice not to break if I tried to speak.
My stomach churned, and I leaned forward, trying to breathe through it.
Finally, Lisa sighed. “I’m not trying to overstep here, but I’m worried about you, Beth. You’re not looking so good.”
I let out a shaky breath, not looking up at her. “I know, Lisa. I’m... I don’t know what’s wrong. But I’m sure this is just my body reacting to all of the emotions and change.”
“Could be.” Her tone was thoughtful, not dismissive, but she wasn’t buying it. “But if it keeps up, we need to get you to a doctor, okay?”
“I’m going to be fine,” I mumbled. I didn’t need a doctor. I needed sleep and a moment to get myself together. But even I could hear how unconvincing I sounded.
“Alright.” She stood, brushing her hand lightly over my shoulder before heading for the door. “But I’m keeping an eye on you.”
“Thanks.” It was all I could manage to say, but I was thankful for her patience, for her quiet support when I couldn’t even figure out how to ask for it.
As she left the room, I sat in the dim light, trying to pull myself together. Tomorrow would be better. I had to believe it would. The last thing I wanted was to let this get between me and the one place I still felt safe.