Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Halfway between the chips and canned goods, I glance at her, and I feel like time is transporting me to that day in Philly.
A pleasant smile touches her lips as she drops her gaze to the abandoned receipt on the counter, only to do a quick double take.
I hold her gaze, letting this moment sink in. A slow-growing smile steals her glossed lips. Recognition takes on a whole new meaning. I feel alive.
She slides around the counter, her Birkenstock clogs scuffing along the black and white lattice vinyl tile. “Are you real?”
With a tiny laugh, I nod.
“Price Milloy,” she says my name with a content sigh.
“Scottie Rucker.”
“What are you doing—”
I interject by holding a finger to my lips. “Shh. Stop interrupting the universe.”
Her eyes widen. “Did you steal my line?”
“I’m just quoting the most profound person I’ve ever known.”
She snorts. “So much gibberish.” Throwing her arms around my neck, she whispers, “My god, it’s so good to see you.”
It’s like she knows exactly what I need.
Twelve years get erased in a single breath.
With my face buried in her hair, I inhale. She never wore perfume from a department store, always an essential oil concoction she made—vetiver and amber. On occasion, she wore patchouli.
She steps back, beaming with a face-splitting grin. “What brings you to Austin?”
“I live here.” I lie (sort of), knowing it’s the first of many to come. Technically, I am living here while I see her. She’s why I’m here. It’s not as creepy as it sounds. On the surface, it’s mind-bendingly complicated. Yet, at its core, it’s as simple as I’m here for her.
More on that later.
“No kidding? Wow! Have you lived here long?”
Less than forty-eight hours.
“Hmm … I’m trying to think how long it’s been.” I scratch my chin. “Six? Seven months? What about you?”
“I’ve been here ten years. I needed a change and decided to try Austin. No job. No place to live. I just packed a few bags and headed south.” A slow grin creeps up her face while she shakes her head. “I can’t believe we’re running into each other. It’s been so long. Are you married? Kids? I want to catch up.”
Another gust of wind announces an older couple entering the store. Scottie shoots them a grin before turning back to me.
“Catching up sounds amazing. Can I take you to dinner tonight?”
“Oh! Tonight? That’s soon.”
I shrug. “Carpe diem.”
Her soft lips rub together for a beat. “Why not?”
“Wonderful. Give me your address. I’ll pick you up around six?”
“Eight.” She fiddles with her hair. Yet another thing that’s not changed about her. Always fiddling.
“The store closes at eight. Until I get someone else hired, it’s just me. If that’s too late—”
“Eight it is. Write down your address.”
“It’s here.”
“Here?”
She jabs her thumb over her shoulder. “I live in an Airstream behind the store.”
Things make sense now. The only address I found for her was this store, which I assumed had an apartment above it.
“Then I’ll see you at eight.”
“Let me give you my number in case something comes up and you need to cancel.”
Nothing will come up. I’m here for her.
The rented house.
The vehicle.
It’s all for her.
I don’t have a phone, at least not one I plan on using anytime soon. It’s just for emergencies.
She jots down her number on the last customer’s abandoned receipt.
“Perfect. Then I’ll see you in,” I peek at my watch, “five hours and twenty-seven minutes.”
“Price Milloy.” She shakes her head. “I’ll be pinching myself all afternoon.”
I grab a small bunch of bananas from a basket and set them on the counter because not buying something feels weird.
She weighs them and hands me the change. “Five hours and twenty-five minutes now.” I can’t remember the last time someone looked at me with such wonder and sheer happiness in their eyes. In truth, it hasn’t been that long, but life has messed with my recollection of those moments.
I steal a few extra seconds to return what I hope feels to her like the same expression.
Coming here was the right decision.
CHAPTER TWO
REMEMBER ME? YEAH, ME NEITHER.
This is what it feels like to relearn something basic like walking and talking. Even after six weeks of practice, I stare at the black TV screen. The batteries in the remote control are dead, and I have no intention of replacing them.
No internet.
No computer.
No social media.
No email.
I’ve never sat for this long with nothing to do and no company besides my thoughts. How does one exist with only one’s thoughts? I’ll get a library card tomorrow and purchase some hobby things—Legos and …
I’ve got nothing. If I had the internet, I would search for enjoyable hobbies.
It’s misting outside, but I throw on my rain jacket and take a walk for fresh air and exercise before I reward myself with a nap, or what I’m calling meditation, until I learn how to meditate.