I stepped outside the sterile building into the fresh air, I felt instant relief. It would be brief, but it was needed. Reality was still the same. My gran was still in there and we would know today how long she had to live. That wasn’t going away. But the motherfucking smell that haunted me was gone for now. I could breathe.
“Donuts? A few even have bacon on them. I hear they’re really good.” The sound of Ophelia’s voice managed to pull me from the heaviness with an instant calming effect. I soaked that in before turning to see her standing a few feet behind me with a large bag in her hand. “I would have brought coffee too. I’m sure the coffee in there is awful, but there’s too many of y’all and only one of me.”
I glanced at the bag in her hand before taking in her smile again. Wanting to look at her wasn’t anything I should get attached to or even dwell on. Even knowing this, I enjoyed the view anyway. She was hard not to appreciate. Even if I didn’t want to admit it, her presence soothed the reckless ache inside me.
“Donuts with bacon?” I asked her instead of telling her that just getting to look at her was sufficient. It was all I would ever allow myself to do and even that much was dangerous. There was nothing good that would come of that. Besides, Ophelia Finlay had her own walls. I’d seen them a year ago and they were still standing. Her eyes were expressive even when she was trying to hide her thoughts. I knew she had walls just like I knew she had seen the difference in me everyone else had been confused over. But she wasn’t asking. She wasn’t pressing me with questions. She was accepting there were reasons and letting me keep my secrets.
“I’ve not had them myself. I prefer chocolate glaze on my donuts, but this place is so popular if you don’t get in line early you don’t get the donuts. They sell out. I was in line at seven this morning and by the time I got up there, they only had three of the bacon ones left. So, if you want to try one, you need to grab it now. Before your family gets a hold of this bag,” she said, holding the bag up for me to take.
It was a large paper bag with two sturdy handles. I quickly took it because I was sure it was heavy. Not because I wanted the bacon donut. That didn’t sound appealing even if I loved bacon. I appreciated Ophelia’s kind gesture and I knew my family would too.
The bag was heavier than I thought. “How many donuts did you buy?” I asked.
She sighed with the weight of the bag gone. “You’ve got a large family,” she stated the obvious. “A lot.”
“This was nice of you. Getting in line at seven though was more generous than necessary.” I wanted to keep her out here with me. I didn’t want to go back inside. I’d keep her and the damn donuts out here with me in a bubble if I could.
“Today’s a hard day. I know donuts don’t make it easier, but I wanted to do something.”
Her being here was enough. At least for me. The rest of them would appreciate the donuts for sure. They probably knew about the damn popular donuts. It was nice of her. I didn’t need any other reason to like this woman.
“Are you okay?” she asked me then and the concern in her eyes shouldn’t feel good. I was letting her get too close and I already knew the trouble that came with trusting or caring.
“I’m good. It’s been a tough morning.” I nodded my head toward the doors. “Aunt Amanda is having the hardest time with it all. Preston has had to hold her constantly. She’s crying a lot.” I was deflecting and oddly enough she realized it. The way her eyes slightly narrowed gave it away. She studied too closely. I had to be careful with that. She may not ask questions, but she didn’t miss what was said in the silence.
“I can’t imagine how she feels. If I was facing this with my mother, I’d be the same.” She wasn’t just saying that to make me feel better. The sincerity was as clear as her other reactions. There was no bullshit with Ophelia. The blunt honesty was so damn refreshing I was finding my need to keep her talking was growing.
“Dad hasn’t broken down and I almost expected it when they took her back this morning. He’s not talking though. He just sits and stares straight ahead. Mom has his hand in hers and she’s beside him whispering things to him occasionally, but mostly they sit in silence. She got up once for coffee and Dad looked so damn lost without her it was too much to look at. I’ve never seen my dad scared before.” I stopped talking. Shit was just pouring out of me that I hadn’t even realized was bothering me. How was I suddenly needing to talk about it to a woman I barely knew?