How did we get here? Where did it all go wrong?
With a nod, I step around him, sucking in a breath. I’ve got to figure out how to live with this and hope that with time I’ll heal because my chest feels like an empty, barren fucking cavern, and it’s pulling me down with every sighting of Cole.
When it happened the last time and our budding like of each other was ripped away by Sissy’s pregnancy, I managed to seal up the cracks of my broken heart. I’m hopeful this means I can figure it out faster this time since I now have the experience upon which to rely.
Enzo steps up beside me, and I turn to him with a wan smile. He returns a gentle version of his own, and my soul warms. I’m so grateful that I’m not entirely alone. However, I can’t help but shake my head at the irony—a few months can change everything, including my hostility toward a stranger turned friend.
We sit at a smaller table but still attract visitors who join us without asking, and I resign myself to this and more because now we have to make nice with everyone.
David approaches with a plate full of food, sitting down when Enzo nods, and I wonder if this is the ‘brother David’ that little Joshua was speaking of earlier. Although the conversation still doesn’t make sense unless David is gay.
He starts right in by asking us how we are getting along, and we both fake enthusiasm that neither of us is feeling while David nods along to Enzo’s quiet words.
To my left, a woman sits down beside me, holding out her hand and saying brusquely, “Madge.”
“Uh, hi. Lola,” I respond dully.
“Heard y’all were holed up in Sam’s Club for the winter.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you and he together?”
Taken aback by her forthright questioning, I study Madge for a moment, curious if she’s asking for herself, but surely not. Enzo can’t be more than thirty, and she’s pushing at least fifty years old, with graying brown hair, dull brown eyes, and bushy brows.
“Uh, no,” I say after a moment.
“Good, good,” she responds, and my brow crinkles. Maybe she is asking for herself. I mean, a woman can dream, right?
“Shepherd will find a nice one for you. You’re prime.”
“I’m what?” I stutter.
“You’re young and fresh. Just what we need.”
“For what?” I ask, shifting in my seat. What the fuck does young and fresh mean, anyway?
“For rebuilding, for new life, for granting God’s wish,” she says as though she is repeating a mantra she’s heard often.
“Oh. I’m, well, I’m not real, um,” I trail off, not sure where she’s going with this.
Forgoing a response, she pats my hand, and I look away with a roiling stomach when she takes a huge bite of her food and proceeds to chew with her mouth open. I can see it all sloshing around inside and suppress a hysterical laugh when she glances furtively at Enzo. Gross, on too many levels, to count.
“Don’t worry. It will all be worth it,” she murmurs, bringing me back around to her. Right. Because I’m young and fresh? But for what?
Enzo walks me back to my building after dinner, strangely quiet, and we’re both so caught up in our thoughts it doesn’t occur to me to ask until we reach the front door.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Hm, yeah,” he rumbles quietly. “It’s just something feels off.”
“Like what?” I ask, silently agreeing, although my world is tipped because of Cole and his heartless fucking soul, which means I may be skewing everything else around me in shades of black.
“Like the segregation between men and women and the weird sermon this morning.”
“Yeah, that’s a little weird,” I agree.
“Just stick close and try not to raise attention,” he says, patting my shoulder.