And that’s already nearly impossible because I’ve got a broken heart.
I grab the bag of takeout and bring it to my couch. Stuffing your face with sweet-and-sour chicken is a decent coping mechanism, right? It’ll have to be…for now.
35
New Chapters
Rose
The December rush is here at Mood Reader, and I am dead on my feet. Mia and I have worked in tandem all day. She’s been perched on the stool behind the counter, checking out our customers, while I’ve circled the floor, doling out book recommendations and gift ideas. The Christmas music tinkling over the speakers is cheerful, and the glistening twinkle lights make the space feel extra cozy now that the sun has set.
It’s been one whole week since I came clean with Anton. One week since my dad fired me. One week since I’ve taken what my sisters told me to heart and had a good, hard look at myself and who I want to be.
I’ve cried. A lot. I’m telling myself it’s good and healthy to feel my feelings. It’s also a reminder that I’m a human, and my emotions are valid, even if I feel so messy it makes me itchy.
I’ve also started my own list. Anton was on to something with his notes about me, I think, and I’ve taken it a step further. My list is a compilation of things I want to be. Promises to myself. At the top of the list, I’ve writtenhonestandfaithful. If nothing else, I’ve vowed not to succumb to the secrets any longer. I want to live my life in the light.
Also included on my list are things that bring me joy likereading,working out, andspending time with family.
I couldn’t put a finger on another aspect of my identity, but I eventually settled onhelping people. In any form, I like to help out. It’s why I love it here at the bookstore so much. Itcombines my love of books with my love of helping people. When I can match a book to a person, I feel a shot of happiness zip up my spine.
Earlier this week, I typed up my article about Anton, which felt like a dagger to the heart for all three thousand words. I emailed it to my dad, and then, after a moment’s thought, I also fired it off to Ned.
When I finished the article, I stared at a blank Word document for about thirty seconds before letting my fingers fly across the keys again, a new story pouring out onto the page. I’d all but given up on writing fiction, but now I figure I have nothing to lose.
You know what? Writing is oddly therapeutic. I’ve typed myself to sleep every night this week. All those tropes I thought I’d never include because they’re too painful? They’re in there. Go figure.
I feel good when I’m writing, like I’m piecing myself back together as I’m piecing together a story. I don’t know if I’ll do anything with this manuscript, but that’s not really the point right now.
Anyway, it’s a start.
I’m doing okay. Not great. But okay.
The fact that Mood Reader has been swamped is helpful. The less time I have to dwell on how much I miss Anton, the better.
On the other hand, Mia keeps shooting me furtive glances and worrying her bottom lip. All day, I’ve felt like she has something she wants to say to me, but she keeps chickening out. I’m half terrified she’s going to fire me too.
When I finally close and lock the door behind our final patron, it’s 9:07. Mia shuffles to the comfy seating area, dropping into one of the overstuffed chairs.
“What a day.” She motions me to the chair opposite her. “Sit.”
I do as I’m told. She’s got dark circles under her eyes, and she looks like she could fall asleep right here.
She catches me staring and offers me a wry grin. “I’m exhausted.”
“Is everything okay? You seem a little”—I search for the word—“off. Anything I can do?”
Mia shifts her jaw and her gaze before meeting my eye. “Actually, that’s what I want to talk to you about.”
Here we go.
I brace for the worst while also giving myself a pep talk. If she’s going in another direction with Mood Reader and doesn’t need me anymore, I’ll be okay. I’ll be devastated, but I’ll be okay.
“You’ve obviously noticed I haven’t been myself lately,” she hedges. “I’ve been waiting as long as possible to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. I was hoping to bounce back quicker.”
Oh gosh, it’s happening.
I bite my lip and try to keep the corners of my mouth from dropping into a frown, but it’s tough.
