I loosen my tie as soon as I'm back in my car, taking a moment to let go of the rest of my nerves that I kept balled up inside me through my interview.
It went well, in fact as we finished up the meeting they told me the job was mine but they had to go through formalities. I should be hearing from them next week.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I find my uncle's name in my text messages. He's the whole reason I got the interview so quickly, he put in a good word with a buddy of his who works for Henry Ford. I'm qualified but having the recommendation definitely didn't hurt.
I type out a brief message letting him know that it went well and thank him again before tossing my phone in the seat beside me.
I had talked to him a few months before I left Washington, a rainy night that had wind howling past the buildings leaving everything damp. I was parked at my laptop, writing my resignation letter and in between searching for colleges to continue my masters at when I needed a break when he called. He always called every so often, not constantly like Grace did to make sure I was okay but once a month, once every few. They were brief conversations where we avoided topics like my parents and family and my love life. I didn't have any intention of telling him I was moving back, I hadn't even told Wes and Grace yet but there I sat staring at a list of Michigan post grad schools and I told him.
It was an instant offer. One that I declined, not wanting to owe my Uncle Chris anything just in case tables ever turned, not that he's ever given any reason that might suggest he would. It's just something I'm always waiting for. He called me a few weeks later with information on where to send my resume.
Pulling out of the parking lot, I drive through town to grab a coffee. My brain is in need of a much needed caffeine boost after the mental drain of an interview. Interviews, no matter how prepared for them I am, are always taxing. It's the fakeness of them I think. The need to smile and be charming and amiable, that stuff doesn't come naturally to me and trying to maintain it is exhausting.
The drive takes me past all the spots of my childhood, the ice cream shop, the quiet dirt road behind it that leads to James' and my spot but it's no longer a deserted road to a safe haven. There's a massive, treeless subdivision that sits on it now, the small nature park known to everyone and littered with people at all hours. The library with its alley that James used to wait for me in so we could sneak off.
This town is filled with memories of James and I.
And each one is as fond as it is painful.
I end up at a Starbucks connected to a Target, not because I love Starbucks but because I'm comfortable with it. I know what to order and how to order and it's the same at every single one no matter where you are. Plus I could use some socks.
It's a warm day as I climb out of my car and tug at the cuffs of my dress shirt, pushing them up to my elbows and head for the doors. There's a constant stream of people, moms and kids with carts full, going in and out. The whole thing is familiar and I let out a sigh, stuffing my hands in my pockets as I step through the doors. I'm greeted by a teen with rainbow hair and an eclectic style, offering them a puny smile in return for their bubbly greeting. It's a short walk to the Starbucks, conveniently located at the front of the store and for once I step right up to the counter.
I always order a venti black coffee, no cream. It's simple and boring and even though I wish it didn't reflect me as a person, it probably does.
My name is called, warmth seeping into my bones as I clutch the cup and head deeper into Target, not responding to the Starbucks employee's cheerful goodbye.
I sip my hot coffee, the hot liquid burning off my taste buds as I choke down a gulp. I'll never learn, always taking a drink as soon as I have it rather than giving it proper time to cool. It scalds all the way down my esophagus hitting my empty stomach riling up the acid that lives there with its bitterness. I'm so focused on the imagery, a dark nearly black droplet of bitter coffee colliding with the volatile acid causing a mini eruption that results in heartburn hurtling back up my throat that I walk straight past the men's section. I don't realize it until I'm surrounded by toys on my right, electronics on my left and I stifle a burp as I turn around.
It's a short trek back to the men's section, my eyes trained on my destination because I hate shopping, even if it is just for socks.
"Brett?"
My name rings out around me, the voice that says it washing over me, bringing every single nerve on my body to attention. The discomfort of heartburn and the residual burning of my coffee fading to the background as I search for him. My heart slams. James. Then stops, forgetting altogether it's duty to keep me alive.
I know that words are needed. His name. Some acknowledgement but they don't form as I stand there clutching my coffee.
"You're home." He states.
His gray eyes are guarded, searching my face as he steps closer. Not so close that we seem like we're friends but close enough to let everyone know that we aren't strangers.
My head bobs first, clearing my throat a moment later. "Yeah."
"Why didn't you tell me?" His eyebrows are knit, his face more angular than it was the last time I saw him in person but I knew it would be. I could tell in his social media pictures. He's been working out, his body lean and his muscles prominent.
Just as I go to tell him some half truth, not wanting to divulge exactly all of why I'm back, a guy joins us, a smile spread across his face and I instantly recognize him.
"Hey there you are!" He bounds up to James holding some thriller movie in his hand, he waves it before saying "found a movie".
James hates thrillers.
"Oh hi." The guy stretches out a hand toward me. "I'm Dom."
"This is Brett." James says before I can. "An old friend."
His gray eyes pierce mine as he talks and I feel myself wither, shrinking away from this interaction and the words "an old friend". An old friend? Is that all I am?
The thought pulls at me, filling me up until there's nothing left of me. Until my lungs have no space to expand in my chest and my heart pounds in my ears desperate for oxygen. I'm sure I'm gaping like an idiot, standing there looking hopeless, some unwanted puppy left out in the rain.
It's quite tangible, the heartbreak that rips through my chest as I watch Dom look at James. As he steps closer, his arm brushing against James' deliberately, how close they are, how intimate, how it's everything I would never do in public.
I don't know what I say to dismiss myself, if anything coherent left my lips but once I feel like I'm far enough away I dart out of the store, my coffee landing in the trash as I seek refuge in my car.
I wait until I'm back at Wes', locked in my room, alone and isolated before I let the tears fall.
——————————
Reunited and it feels so good!
Alright not exactly good. But the boys have reconnected.
