“Are you waiting for someone?” The voice is directed at me.
Glancing up at her and noticing the smile plastered across her face, my heart squeezes at the question. “Nope, just me. Um, I just want a coffee.”
She hesitates, lowering the little pad of paper I didn’t even realize she was holding, and nods. Her eyes flicker to the empty booth seat across from me, and then she gives me a pitying look. I give her a tight smile, and she scurries off to get the drinks and put the orders in.
I puff out my cheeks and exhale slowly, rustling my hair as I sink into my seat, eyeing the group of four yet again. I can’t help it. My eyes fall on the one next to Owen, her talon-like nails clutching his arm tightly. I grit my teeth so tightly together; I hear the crunch in my ears. Even if I was willing to spend more on my card, it would be useless. I’m not very hungry. Donna always makes me lose my appetite. I hate her more than I have ever hated anyone in my life, and I’m pretty sure the feeling is more than mutual by this point. I just haven’t figured out if the hatred I feel is pure jealousy or something else. Maybe a mixture. Because I thought I was above the whole jealousy shit, but a little voice in the back of my mind keeps telling me otherwise.
Deciding that I don’t want to be caught staring at the group like a lost puppy or, well, a hopeless ex-girlfriend, I peel my eyes away from them with force and shift my gaze to the window on my left side. My reflection shows a pale girl with dark circles beneath her eyes, the telltale sign of lack of sleep. But her face is still full of life regardless. I’m shaken by the sight. It reminds me of when I looked at myself a year ago. I’d been a hollow sight. My cheeks had been sunken, eyes falling into the chasms. I was a pretty bad sight. Now, however, the plumpness is back in my cheeks, and my eyes shine brightly. I actually recognize the girl staring back at me.
I used to look like I was obviously on drugs. Now, however, I’m treated like a real human being. I must admit, it’s one of the best things about sobriety. I’m not skirted around when people come near me. They smile when I pass instead of wrinkling their noses in disgust. People even talk to me now and again, even if it’s just to ask for directions. Despite sometimes not even knowing me, they talk to me.
I blink, and when stark hazel eyes stare back at me, I jolt in surprise. I’d been so wrapped in my thoughts that I hadn’t even noticed anybody appear, and they aren’t my fucking eyes. I rub at the window, but they don’t disappear. I scramble out of my booth and turn sharply, my shoe squeaking on the ground, and crash into someone. Hot liquid, which I assume is my coffee having arrived, splashes all over my front—drenching me straight to my skin beneath my bra.
The waitress staggers back, the now empty mug dangling from the fingers of one hand. The pot of coffee is clutched between her fingers in the other hand. She stares at me with wide eyes and draws in a slow breath. Her eyebrows scrunch together, and tears sparkle in her eyes. “I – I am so sorry!” she breathes.
Her shirt is splotched with coffee, but it doesn’t look as bad as mine. I barely noticed the heat of the coffee, but it has cooled now, so it doesn’t even matter.
Donna’s high-pitched laughter rings in my ears, and I look sharply at her. She’s practically doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach at the hilarity of the whole affair. Heat flashes across my cheeks, but at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if coffee had also been splashed on my face. I look back at the waitress, feeling completely lost about what to say. I am sorry, but the words won’t come. Mostly from the embarrassment that’s rolling through me.
I step to the side, fully intending to leave, but the waitress breaks my desire. She’s on the ground, trying to wipe at the coffee with napkins, shoulders tensed as if she’s trying to hold back sobs. I hesitate long enough for her to look up at me.
“You haven’t paid,” she tells me.
“I’ll pay for her,” Devon cuts in, and I turn to him and see him stand. But he’s looking at the waitress, not me. “Just let her go.”
With that, I leave as quickly as possible, forcing myself not to look back. Pushing open the door, I suck in a breath as fresh air slaps me in the face. It cools the heat but presses my drenched shirt, making it cling to my skin. I wipe at it, though it’s a stupid useless action, and start down the sidewalk, feet dragging as I walk away.
Knowing that being alone isn’t the best option, I again turn to the café windows. My eyes fall on the two couples. Devon has returned to his seat and reaches across the table to hold Kate’s hand. Her smile is bright, eyes simmering with love for the man who was once mine. Owen and Donna are talking, her eyes glittering. I can’t tell if it’s from the light that shines over them or something else, but for a moment, she just looks incredibly happy. Part of me wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that I’m just not there.
I feel so lost now. I have no idea where I’m supposed to go. Returning to the apartment doesn’t seem the best option right now. They’re going to show up there eventually, and I just really don’t want to be around their sappy lovey-dovey shit. Yes, I tend to mope. I get it. But this is all so damn frustrating. Why did my father have to insist I live with them? I don’t care anymore about some stupid ass deal. I’m so confused, and being sober is so damn hard. It’s worse when I have to keep my head up while watching the two men I love flit off with other chicks.
I pull myself away from the window with difficulty. I can’t linger. I can’t just hope that they’ll take pity on me and dump the girls. I’m being stupid about this whole thing, and I know it. I must breathe. I’ve got to move on. I need to push myself to do that. I can’t fall back. Nine months of sobriety is too much to give up over a couple of guys. Because in three months, I’ll be one entire year sober. Not because of them. Not because I was forced, but because I chose to stick to this route. I chose to be sober. Me. Nobody else. So even if they aren’t rooting for me, I will do it. It helps that I know my parents will be proud of it, but this is on me entirely. Nobody can receive help unless they decide they want to. I didn’t want it before. I chose to accept it now, and the rest is up to me.
I will stay sober, no matter what.
I smile at how excited I can imagine my parents will be. Mom will get me a cheesecake in celebration; she knows I hate regular cake and has always given me alternatives. Dad won’t look at me with disappointment, and I’ll finally be able to make something of myself. I’ll show them I can do this.
I blink and stop suddenly. My eyes flash around, but only darkness greets me. Streetlamps here are either broken or just not turned on. I don’t know. But I’ve been walking without even realizing it, lost in my own thoughts. It’s so easy to drift away sometimes. Being sober gives my brain so much more room to think things over and over. It can get heavy in my mind sometimes. Now, however, I was simply lost in thought.
I don’t know where I am, and I shiver as a gust of wind brushes over me. I don’t have a coat. I didn’t think I’d be walking out in the dark after all.
Loud voices drift over me. Laughter echoes in the air, and my eyes snap to a stoop. It's crowded, with what I assume is a bunch of men. I could be wrong, but the way they’re swaying and talking loudly tells me I just might not be. I can see them dipping their head back and chugging something –beeris what I guess. I swallow and look back over my shoulder. Did I turn somewhere, or is it just a straight walk back?
My eyes shoot around the darkened street. I spot a few alleyways, and dread creeps over me, replacing the steaming coffee from earlier. Now, I just want to be covered in warm coffee instead of this icy dread.
I can turn back but to do so means returning to the group I just left—I really don’t want to do that. I don’t want to be around them right now. I have to keep my head straight. So, I turn to face forward again and hope it's dark enough for the guys not to notice me. But as I start walking, I know it’s a stupid wish. A light flashes on from one of the nearby houses, a motion sensor, I guess, and blazes with a glow of light. I keep walking, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. They noticed, though, and catcall instantly.
I grit my teeth, keeping my eyes forward.A woman should never walk alone.Daddy’s voice drifts through my mind. He and Owen are always reminding me of that. They’re both cops, after all, and a lot of calls they get are from women walking alone at night. They're not asking for trouble; they’re usually just trying to get home. But trouble comes anyway.
From the corner of my eye, I spot a couple of the men detach themselves from the stoop and draw towards me. Another brisk wind sends a sharp stinging into my nostrils.Beer.My breath hitches and I pick up my footsteps a few feet more and then turn, deciding that I would rather be around those bitchy girls than this. It’s too late now, though. The two men I thought I saw have doubled and are approaching me from behind.
A shrill ring makes me jump, and I fumble into my jeans back pocket for my phone, sliding the green arrow over before pressing it to my ear. “Hello?” I squeak, my hands trembling so hard that I clutch my phone to my ear to keep it from slipping.
The guys hesitate, falling back slightly.
“Gracie?” His voice washes over me, and I let out a shaky breath.
“Owen! Hi. I was just going to call you. Did you get off your shift at the police station?” I say loudly, recalling my father had once told me to speak loudly and point out something that would no doubt scare off anyone coming at me.