The Fourteen Day Soul Detox (7 page)

I unlocked the dumpster and held it
open for him to throw the boxes into. He moved like I was timing him,
practically jumping back and forth from the ground to the bin. When
he’d grabbed the last box, I let it drop, and locked it. I
walked with him around to the front entrance, holding the door open
for him.

“Anything in particular you’d
like to eat?” I asked him as we made our way through the shop.

“Um, can I have a cookie?”
he asked, eyes bright.

“Of course you can. Chocolate
chip or peanut butter?”

“Chocolate chip.” He
grinned like he thought it was funny.

“Do you want a bagel too?”
I asked.

“Oh, that’s too much for
what I did. Just a cookie and a coffee would be great,” he
said.

“Alright, if you’re sure,
but we have a bunch of them left over and they just get stale if we
don’t eat them,” I said, heading back behind the counter.

“Hey Mitch, how’s it
going?” Chris asked, looking up from wiping down the counter
with a big smile on his face.

“Real good, Chris, great. Love
this place, love this city. I couldn’t be happier,” he
said.

I handed Mitch a plate with a cookie,
then asked, “Where are you going to sit, on the couch?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to…”
he trailed off mumbling. “Right here is good.” He
gestured to a table away from the windows.

“Alright, I’ll fix your
coffee and bring it to you,” I said.

After fixing Mitch his coffee, I
checked the store and bathroom for any other customers. When I found
it empty, I switched the sign on the window from ‘open’
to ‘closed’ and locked the front door.

After wiping down all the tables except
Mitch’s, I flipped the chairs up and mopped under them. When I
returned behind the counter, Chris had already cleaned up and closed
down the espresso machine, put away the pastries and was working on
the till.

“I’ll do those,” I
said, grabbing the credit card receipts from Chris. I printed the
closing receipt and a long line of receipt tape came out. “You
must have had a crazy rush this morning.”

“Yeah, it was going pretty good
in here for a while.”

“If we keep having days like
these, we’ll definitely be able to hire on more help,” I
said.

Chris didn’t respond, so I turned
my attention to counting the number of transactions and making sure
we had the same number of signed receipts.

I glanced at Mitch, wondering if he was
watching us count out the money, but his attention was fixed on the
tree outside our window. He seemed completely content, almost
dreaming.

“We are twenty-five cents off,”
Chris said with a frown.

“Here you go,” I said,
leaning down and grabbing a quarter from where it must have dropped
to the floor. I set it next to the change rolls. “Wow, exact.
That never happens when I’m on the register.”

Chris chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“Ha, ha,” I said, holding
the deposit bag out for him.

He set the money in the bag, and I
zipped it up.

“Alright, I’m going to take
out the trash and ask Mitch to join me so you can take care of this
stuff. I’ll lock up the back if you get the front,” I
said.

“Sounds good. And happy birthday,
Jamie, I love you,” he said.

“Love you too, Chris,” I
said, giving him a hug.

Taking off my apron, I grabbed my purse
and hung it over my shoulder. I grabbed up a trash bag in each hand.
“Hey Mitch,” I called. “We’re all done in
here and have to go. Mind helping me with the back door?” I
asked.

“No, of course not!” Mitch
said. “Do you want me to clean my table and my plate? I can do
it, it’s no problem.”

“No worries, Mitch, I’ll
get it,” Chris called.

“Okay, because it’s no
problem. But, I’ll… I’ll help you with the door.
Want me to get those?” he reached for the trash bags in my
hands.

“No, I got them. But the door
would really help,” I said.

Mitch rushed forward, pushing open the
back door and doing a wide sweep of his hand to gesture me out.

I grabbed up my keys, locking the back
door and then unlocking the dumpster.

“Would you mind holding it up for
me?” I asked Mitch.

He rushed over to the dumpster, holding
it up way more than I needed him to.

After dumping the trash and locking up,
I turned to him. “Do you want a couple bucks, Mitch?”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t worth
a couple bucks. I’ll take a dollar, if you have it.”

After I gave him a dollar, he asked me,
“Can I stay back here? Just for a little while. I won’t
do anything, just sit, I swear.”

I rolled back my shoulders. “Thing
is, I’m part of the business association and we’re not
supposed to let people loiter back here.” I hummed to myself.
“How about… I’ll just walk away and not notice
that you’re back here, yeah? I have no idea that you’re
here.” I winked at him.

“This was a very nice day,”
Mitch said, grinning at me and settling onto the ground near the
dumpster.

“It was nice to see you,” I
told him, before walking around the building to the front. I ran my
hand along the jack and the beanstalk mural as the wind buffeted
against my back.

When I climbed back into my car, I sat
in the warmth for a second before starting it. Petals clung to my
windshield and hood; I even found a few in my hair.

When I drove past the shop, I caught
Chris just as he was locking up and my hand hovered over the horn but
I thought better of honking at him.

Most of downtown was empty of
pedestrians, though the wind sent ripples of movement in every
direction. Trash skipped down the sidewalk under swinging signs
clattering back and forth. Several other blossom trees sprayed out
their petals, though some of them dotted the ground with a deeper
red.

The only human traffic I saw was
clustered around a burger shop on the way out of downtown. Crossing
into the residential neighborhood, the houses passed by my car,
growing bigger and bigger.

Turning, I made my way to the end of
the drive where Coral Beach Elementary abutted a beach park. It was
one of the prettiest public schools I had ever seen. Unlike most of
the town, it shied away from the mission architecture; instead it
shone out with hundreds of windows throughout its modern exterior.

I usually waited for Sarah’s aide
to walk her out to the parking lot, but I was a little early so I
walked through the main entrance.

The school secretary peeked up at me as
I passed, but turned her attention back to a kid who stood in front
of her desk. The indoor hallways were thankfully warm as I walked
over toward Mrs. Keller’s classroom. When I was within ten
feet, I saw a familiar head of blond hair waiting in front of the
closed doors with a couple other parents.

Right, this is room seven, where his
daughter Kay goes to class. I stepped backward, considering sneaking
back out to wait in my car when Patrick the Hunky Dad spotted me.

“Jamie,” he said, walking
through the group to come stand by me.

“How’s it going?” I
said with a wave, rocking back on my feet.

“Pretty good, you?” he
asked.

“Good.” I swung my arms
back and forth. “So,” I drew out the word, “my
friend, Beza, confessed to talking to you about me. And, I just want
to apologize, my friends and family are either trying to fix me or
smother me lately.”

His brow furrowed.

“Sorry, I’m awkward and
confusing. I’m just a bit embarrassed, I guess, that my friend
went up to you to talk about me. Please, don’t feel obligated
to… whatever, because of my situation.” I stepped back,
looking over my shoulder toward the red ‘exit’ sign.

“I asked your friend about you,”
he said, with a smile. “You know, because our daughters are
friends.”

“Yeah, uh-huh,” I said,
scratching my nose. “Um, never mind everything I just said.”

“Why did you think she approached
me?”

Pinching my lips together, I shook my
head. “No reason,” I said.

“Anyhow, would you like to go to
dinner sometime?” he asked.

My jaw slackened as he grinned a wide,
amused grin.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are
you serious or are you messing with me because I just made that super
awkward ‘my friend was trying to set us up’ speech?”

“Can I say both?” he asked,
eyes twinkling with amusement.

The bell rang, and a tide of children
came rushing out of the doors all along each wall.

As a long line of children filed past
us, Patrick asked, “So, about that dinner, yes, no, maybe so?”

I looked over. “Can I say
maybe
so
? Is that a real option?”

“I was stupid enough to add it,
so I guess, yes. Unless, you’ll let me amend my choices to
‘yes, yes, and definitely yes?’”

“Let’s stick with maybe
so,” I said.

“Dad!” a little girl ran up
throwing her arms around Patrick. Her hair was darker than his,
almost brown. She jumped up and down, talking a million miles per
hour about an art project.

Patrick’s attention was solely on
her now, his smile warm as he nodded along with her story. He slipped
her backpack off, throwing it over his suit shoulder.

“Are you Sarah’s mom?”
A little boy asked me as he passed. Red hair poked out of his head in
all directions and freckles dotted his face.

“Yep,” I said.

“I knew it!” he shouted,
before hurrying off.

“Okay,” I whispered to
myself, smiling.

Sarah and her aide came out of the door
together. The moment Sarah saw me, she grabbed the straps of her
backpack and ran. “Mom!” she shouted, “Mom!”
She plowed into me, and I threw my arms around her as she buried her
head into my stomach.

I looked up to Ms. Brown, trying to
gauge her expression. She was a few inches shorter than me, and
probably a couple years younger than I was too. She smiled at me and
the tension in my shoulders relaxed.

“Was it a good day?” I
asked, giving her a hopeful smile.

Ms. Brown nodded, making her bobbed
black hair flip up and down. “For the most part, yeah. The
class just watched movies, went to art and stuff and we had a Friday
fun day raffle, so it was a pretty easy day. She had a little trouble
transitioning from speech, kicked over a trash can, but yeah, all in
all everything went pretty well.” She pushed her glasses up her
nose.

“No hitting?” I asked.

“Nope, no hitting today,”
Ms. Brown said, nodding.

“Oh thank god,” I said. I
looked down at Sarah, who was grabbing onto me like I might leave her
behind if she loosened her hold. Patting her head, I said, “Nice
work at school, angel.”

“I’m ready to go home and
have the weekend,” she told me.

“I bet,” I said.

“Oh, the principal did want me to
ask you to talk to Sarah about not doing her gymnastics while she’s
at school.” She turned to Sarah, saying, “It’s very
important Sarah, no gymnastics at school, okay?”

When Sarah just looked away from her, I
told Ms. Brown, “I’ll talk to her about it. How are you
doing?”

She beamed at me. “Oh, I’m
good! John and I set the date, so this time next year I’ll be
Mrs. Harriet.”

“Awesome, wow. Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” she said. “I
have to go head to a meeting, but you guys have a great weekend!”

“Yeah, you too,” I said.
“Hey Sarah, angel, you need to give me a little space so we can
walk to the car.” When she didn’t step back, I said, “If
we can’t walk to the car, we can’t go to the sleepover
tonight at Aiden’s.”

“Mom,” Sarah said, looking
up at me. “I want to watch the artistic women’s beam
final from the North Greenwich arena at the London Olympics.”

“Um, we might have time before we
have to head to Aiden’s, but we have to go now.”

She stepped away.

“Excuse me, Sarah’s mom,”
said a young girl’s voice from behind me.

I turned to see Patrick’s
daughter, Kay, standing right behind me, looking up.

“Her name’s Jamie,”
Patrick said, smiling over at me.

“Um, my name is Kay. I love
gymnastics too. Where does Sarah go to do her gymnastics? I go to the
Y. Sarah is really good, she’s better than me. But she’s
not supposed to do gymnastics on the playground. She does it anyway
though.”

“Hi Kay,” I said.

“Sarah told me she does
gymnastics at the Olympics, but I don’t think that’s
true,” she said. “I mean, she’s only eight like
me.”

“It’s kind of true,”
I said, “Or it will be soon. She wants to join something called
the Special Olympics; do you know what that is?”

“No, but it sounds cool. Can I
join it too?”

I glanced up at Patrick with an
apologetic smile on my face. “Sorry, Kay, it’s only for
people with special needs like Sarah. The Special Olympics is open to
people a little younger, but one day Sarah plans to join the main
Olympic Games. Isn’t that right, angel?”

“USA, artistic gymnastics,”
Sarah said.

“That one you can join, but I
think you have to be sixteen,” I said. “Sarah goes to a
coach who volunteers with the Special Olympics at her studio.”

“Oh, wow, can I go?”

“Yes,” Sarah said.

“No, sweetheart,” Patrick
said, looking down at his daughter.

“No, dad, just to watch, I mean.
Can I go to watch?” She turned big, brown pleading eyes to me.

I scratched behind my ear. “I’m
not sure, I could check with the coach,” I said, looking over
at Patrick.

He gave me a half smile and shrugged.
“You walking this way?” He gestured toward the parking
lot.

“I was hoping to,” I said,
putting an arm around Sarah, and leading her toward the exit.

The wind blasted us as we exited out of
the main doors. Both Kay and Sarah had to grab at their hair as it
blew into their faces. Grabbing two hair bands out of my purse, I
offered one to Patrick.