Wherever the Dandelion Falls (69 page)

I woke groggy the next morning and had only a few seconds of relief before I sank into the bitter sadness that was missing Faye. I got dressed with a heaviness I hadn't felt since Damon broke up with me. Every part of my body felt like lead. Showering was a struggle akin to running a marathon, but I did it. I lathered my hair, too tired by the time I got out to contemplate drying it. I put on my most comfortable clothes for work and trudged to the café, praying to whatever deity would listen that my day would be uneventful and short.

It certainly wasn't short, but other than a delivery being an hour late, it was uneventful. I only had to take two breaks to duck into the broom closet and cry. I thought about what life would have been like if I were still working at Jules' and was thankful I didn't anymore. It would have taken me too long to mix each drink, and my tips would have been terrible, Dave would have asked too many concerned questions, and I'd have had a meltdown in front of the customers, which would have been humiliating. Only since meeting and falling in love with Faye had my tears been so plentiful and frequent. It was as if she'd scraped off an extra layer of my skin and defenses, an extra layer everyone else had, and I had to walk through the world exposed and vulnerable to every feeling around me.

When the day finally ended, I went home and collapsed on the couch. I'd checked my phone every few minutes throughout the day, but no one besides my sister and Justine had texted me. It was as though Faye had forgotten I existed. I wondered if I would ever be able to pretend she didn't exist.

It wasn't like there was protocol for this, you know? We'd effectively broken up, but since we'd never technically been together, I didn't know how the breakup was supposed to go. Did we not talk? Did we text only? Wait a few weeks? I had so many questions.

Justine made me macaroni and cheese and salad for dinner. I was so tired and drained, extending gratitude to her felt like the last thing I'd be able to do. I did the dishes and fell into my bed, sleeping until ten the next morning.

I thought about going for a run before work, but I was so heavy, I opted to sit on my floor and stretch instead. I felt like a quitter for not jogging, but I just couldn't face the world until I had to.

The day dragged on at work. I hid in the back office as much as I could, but as fate would have it, that was short-lived. After I'd helped our performer set up for the night and was sitting down with a stack of invoices, one of the servers came in to the office and said, "Kelly has a question for you."

I sighed, not bothering to mask my annoyance. I set down the invoices and walked out into the main room of the café, glancing around to double-check everything was ready for the show as I made my way to the stage area.

And then, in the back of the room at the little table I'd reserved for her only a few nights before, I spotted Faye.

I was just as gutted as I'd been when she walked out of my apartment.

She was sitting with her hair curtaining her face, half-hiding from the rest of the room. The candle on the table in front of her cast a gentle glow on her perfect, olive skin, and her eyelashes created dramatic upwards shadows into her eyebrows. She was reading something on the table, but I couldn't see what. She had a drink in front of her, but she hadn't touched it.

For a brief, bright moment I wondered if she'd come to apologize or to try to work things out with me. But then I saw Claire sitting next to her, chatting away, and realized she had just come to get Claire out of the house. She's probably forgotten that I worked here. I couldn't remember if I'd even told her the name of the café I managed. When I'd invited her before, I'd just given her the address via text, which I'm sure she'd forgotten by now. She would have let me know if she was coming to visit me.

I reached into my pocket for my phone. She hadn't texted me. She'd probably just come to see the performer.

And I was crushed again by how little she cared for me.

I couldn't handle the mixing of my worlds. Work was the one place that was only mine. She wasn't supposed to affect me here. And yet she was here, and her presence had completely thrown me. I wasn't sure how I'd get through the night knowing she was so close.

Knowing I needed to focus on work to prevent a breakdown, I turned toward Kelley. "What's up?" I asked, trying to project confidence and a dwindling amount of patience for her demands.

She asked me something about her feedback monitor, and I reiterated what I knew I'd already told her.

Then, without looking back at Faye, I walked back into my office and prayed I wouldn't be needed for the rest of the night. Other than sneaking into the tech booth to help run the show and survey the patrons and sweeping the kitchen a few times to ensure everything was running smoothly, I wasn't needed.

I almost thought I'd gotten away with avoiding Faye when someone knocked on my office door.

"Someone wants to see you," one of the waitstaff said.

I sighed, thanking the waitress and wondering if there was a way to leave without blatantly blowing Faye off. She'd blown me off so many times, she would have had it coming. And yet my upbringing and my undying love for her wouldn't let me. I trudged into the main room, bracing myself to be dismissed in front of Claire once again.

I was surprised to see the main room was mostly empty, save for a gay couple in the back finishing their dessert and the waitstaff who were hurriedly clearing the tables so they could get home.

Faye, now sitting alone, was looking around the room nervously.

When I approached, she looked spooked for a second, then plastered on a brave expression. I saw, to my surprise, that her drink was only half empty. She was fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth as her eyes struggled to hold my gaze.

“Hi,” I said, hoping I didn't sound too sad or hopeful.

“Hi,”she responded, the word rushed and even more anxious than she looked.

She didn't say anything for a moment, so I decided to address her as I would any patron. She was, after all, a guest in the café I managed.

“Can I get you anything?”

Faye looked even more flustered, as though my dismissal was amping up her anxiety.

“Uh, no,” Faye said, tugging on her sleeves. “I was- um, I was hoping we could talk?” She said it with an upward inflection, making it sound like a question rather than a statement.

“About what?” I said. I knew I was coming across as cold and unsympathetic, but she'd been cold and unsympathetic to my feelings plenty of times. I just needed to protect myself.

“About... stuff,” she said.

I glanced around, assessing if this was an appropriate place and time to have a conversation that would probably lead to at least one of us crying. One of the waitresses gave me a questioning raise of her eyebrow, and I knew I had to keep my boundaries firm.

“Now isn't a good time,” I said.

Faye nodded in understanding. “When are you done?”

I looked around again, taking any opportunity to avoid eye contact. “About half an hour.”

Faye took a steadying breath and nodded. “Okay. I'll wait.”

Feeling my anxiety start to build, I said, “Look, Faye...”

But she held up her hand, more assertive and certain than she usually was. “I know I fucked things up. I just want five minutes.”

Seeing her pained, pleading expression, I figured I could withstand another five minutes of talking to her. I'd endured months of it, after all. “Okay. But I'm really tired.”

“Just five minutes.”

“Okay.” I turned and went back to my office, double-checking that we'd settled accounts with the entertainment for the evening before clocking out and locking the office and back doors.

The main room was deserted now, save for Faye. She was sitting in the dark, candle extinguished, hands clasped nervously around her phone in her lap. I felt a little bad for making her wait, but my resentment over the hours and weeks and months I'd waited for her told me not to feel guilty.

She got up and wordlessly followed me out the door, watching as I locked the main door behind me. I remembered the first time she'd seen me lock up at work; we'd been drunk beyond intelligibility and headed for the first of what became many night stands. It seemed ages ago.

“Where do you want to talk?” I asked, not making eye contact.

“I have somewhere in mind,” she said. “I'll give you a ride home after.”

I wouldn't have agreed to go to a separate location with her without the offer of a ride home, but as it was, I agreed and followed her to her car.

As she drove further out of the Castro than I expected, I started to feel irritated. Once again, she wasn't communicating with me, which meant I would have to start figuring out answers myself, which would inevitably be incorrect.

By the time she pulled into the Mason-O'Farrell garage, my patience was quickly dwindling.

“Faye, I'm really tired,” I began. “I need to go home and sleep.”

“I know,” she assured, calmer now that she was in control. “Just five minutes.”

Bracing myself for whatever she had in store, I stared straight ahead as she took a parking ticket from the machine, waited for the arm to lift, and started driving up the circular ramp. As we ascended, it started feeling as though we were on a spiral to nowhere. Finally, on what felt like the fifteenth floor, she pulled onto the garage floor and parked.

“You wanted to talk in a parking garage miles from where we live?” I asked, not bothering to mask my annoyance.

“It's worth it,” she said, not making eye contact. She turned off the ignition and got out of her side, walking around to mine.

After locking the doors, she offered me her arm and as she escorted me to the elevator, which felt oddly formal and out of character. It was almost like we were on a date. You know, if Faye dated.

Her steps were brisk and anxious. Once I felt her eyes rake up and down my body. I flushed, feeling proud and embarrassed at the same time. I wasn't used to that kind of attention from her. Well, at least not in public. I was used to concentrated, smoldering attention of her lips on my skin and her sweat mixed with mine. But her eyes on my clothed body in public were new.

As we went up the elevator, she kept my hand on her arm, looking at me nervously a few times as we rose past invisible layers of cars and concrete. When the bell dinged at the top, she shivered and said, "I wanted you to see my favorite place in the city at night."

Skeptical, I looked out the door and saw a square of concrete with a few vehicles parked around the edges. But as Faye walked me out of the elevator enclosure, I realized that we were in the center of the universe.

All around us, the lights of the city were twinkling, rows of lights and windows like sparklers placed perfectly around us. This one slab of concrete seemed an empty field around which the entire world rose in its illuminated glory. The expanse of the night sky fitted itself into my chest as I looked up and around, amazed.

"Wow..." I breathed, hearing myself clearly. The noise of the traffic ten stories below was faint and soothing, like a rain machine.

I looked around, and a smile forced itself across my face, pushed up from my chest where the sky was resting. All the glory of the city was within me as it surrounded me. Despite the agony of the past few days, there was no place in the world I wanted to be other than in that parking lot at that moment.

Faye loosened her grasp on my elbow as I turned around, my purse swinging at my knees as I turned and turned, trying to take in every bit of light around me. Until I got to San Francisco, I was certain that nothing could surpass the beauty of the plains of Michigan, their rolling serenity touched by God. Nothing man-made could ever be so beautiful. And yet here in the middle of the urban jungle, standing next to a beautiful girl, I knew I had been wrong. There is beauty everywhere, of all shapes and makes and sizes.

Faye watched me as though I was the only thing she could see. She glanced up at the lights for a moment, but other than that, I felt her gaze burning into me, watching as I experienced the wonder of her favorite place. I knew why it was her favorite place. There are few places when you can feel alone at the center of the world. This was one of those places.