“Howcan you even have a life?” I asked, exasperated. “I can barely make it through adate with my boyfriend without them distracting me. They’re always there.”
“Well… does he know?”
Inarrowed my eyes defensively. “What?”
“Doesyour boyfriend know you see ghosts?”
“God,no,” I scoffed, shaking my head.
Shecocked her head like a curious dog. “Why not?”
Irolled my eyes back to Goose and his angry glares toward the drunk girls, whohad in fact chosen “Sweet Home Alabama.”
“Becausehe would think I’m a freak. And he wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.” Andjust the thought of not being with Vinnie, the first guy I’d truly feltanything for, brought my throat to tighten and my eyes to water.
“Butwhy would you want to be with someone who doesn’t accept you for who you are?Don’t you accept him for his past?”
“That’sdifferent.”
“How?”
Inarrowed my eyes at this woman’s audacity. She might’ve been told about hispast from the spirit of his dead mother, but that didn’t mean she knew him, orus. It also didn’t give her the right to throw these questions at me.
“Becausethat’s thepast,” I spat at her. “This,” I jabbed a finger at mytemple, “isn’t something I can go to rehab for and, and …get rid of.”
Traceywent quiet. She breathed evenly, calmly, as she watched me with a degree ofwisdom that left me suddenly infuriated and fed up with this entireconversation. I had come here for answers, for solutions and remedies. Instead,I’d received nothing but a vat of fortune cookie wisdom and judgment. I didn’thave to put up with it. I didn’t have to sit there and take it. So, I stood upfrom the table, abruptly pushing the chair violently with the backs of mycalves. The sound was loud, overpowering the second round of Lynyrd and hislove for Alabama, and a few curious faces turned to us.
“Andrea,”Tracey said, keeping her cool while mine had clearly dissipated. “Please, sitdown.”
“Ihave work in the morning. Thank you for your time.”
Isnatched my bag from the table and turned toward the door, ignoring her pleasfor me to come back and sit down. And I actually did think about it for just amoment before I could leave the bar. I thought about going back to her andtalking, if for no other reason but to have someone who understood. But whatwas the point? She wanted me to accept this, to just settle for the bittertruth that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it, and I wasn’t readyfor that.
Notnow, and maybe not ever.
So,I left.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
VINNIE
“You’redoin’ it wrong.”
“No,I’m not, Pops.”
“Yes.You are.” Pops got up from his chair and with his oxygen tank in tow, hehurried over to the counter. He pointed at the wad of dough, sitting in thecenter of a swirled mess of flour, and shook his head, a sour look on his face.“You need more flour. You’re gonna screw it up and waste all that dough.”
Iset my jaw firm and furrowed my brow, glaring hard at my father. “Funny ‘causethis is how I’ve been doin’ it forever.”
Popsspat a puff of air at me, waving a hand. “I never would’ve taught you likethat.”
Throwingmy hands in the air, I shouted, “Yes! You did!”
Jabbinga finger at me, my father narrowed his eyes. “You lie.”
Itwas too early in the day for this. I was too tired, and he was way tooinfuriating. I left the dough and stormed out from behind the counter, walkingpast him, while digging for my cigarettes.
“Wheredo you think you’re goin’? We open in an hour!”
