Trying to live

Chapter 9 (Edited)

I stepped out from behind the counter and walked to an empty table near the window, knowing Mrs. Avilla was following me. Did she know that her son and nephew were also here? They usually left by 6 p.m. I would have gladly asked them to leave sooner if they stayed that long. Who stays that long? Just have a coffee and go home. I took a seat, wondering what Mrs. Avilla wanted to discuss. Maybe she wanted to talk about living arrangements and rules so I wouldn't mess up anyone's life again. Kidding—well, at least I think so.

Mrs. Avilla sat down across from me. "How are you?"

I fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers, spinning them around as if they were dancing. "Fine. You?"

"Fine," she repeated. "Your mom is in the main hospital under my care. I specifically instructed the doctors that she's my patient."

I nodded. "That's good. You and my mom are close friends, right?"

She let out a short laugh. "I wouldn't say that. But we've known each other since childhood. We grew up together like Henry and you did, but we grew apart. However, this town always brings us back together."

She spoke as if the town had some magical quality, which it didn't. I understood what she meant and the purpose of her words, but as I looked at her, I couldn't help but reply with a cold tone. "Not everything that grows apart can come back together again."

"Of course not," she said sadly. "But at least we should understand why things fell apart so we can find a way to heal the pain."

I raised my eyebrows. "Aren't you here to talk about something else?" I asked, knowing I sounded dismissive.

"I am. But why don't you want to talk about it?"

"I just don't." Silence fell between us, punctuated by the finality of my words.

I knew she wanted to discuss the breakup between Henry and me. Under different circumstances, I might have told her, but everything had changed, and I felt distant from her. I loved Mrs. Avilla for her easy conversation and her comforting presence, and because she baked so much when she was home. I would always steal and eat everything she made. She cared for me even before I became her son's girlfriend.

"Fine, we don't need to talk about it," she said, disappointment tinged in her voice. "You already know you're living with me, and I want you to feel at home. I know it won't be easy with Henry, but I hope you can at least interact like normal people."

I snorted. "Tell that to your son." Mrs. Avilla glared at me. "Sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "I've already talked to him, and he said he would be nice to you and wouldn't say anything inappropriate." Nice my foot, I thought. I could lie too. "When you're done with work, go home, get what you need, and then come over. I'll show you to your room."

"Wait—it's not the same room I always had?" I asked, surprised.

Mrs. Avilla glanced at the salt and pepper shakers I had abandoned. "Um, after your breakup, Henry never used that room. Last year, there was a day when he wasn't himself and kind of destroyed it. Now, it's just a room, not yours anymore."

"Oh."

I could never have imagined Henry leaving the room as it was before he had an emotional breakdown and destroyed it. It had been my room since I became friends with Henry. We made memories there—lying in bed together, Henry telling me stories when I couldn't sleep, both of us holding each other as if to protect ourselves from everything. It hurt a little that he had damaged it, and now it was just an empty space without memories.

Well, at least he did that last year and not right after our breakup. But should I be happy that he did it? I mean, we had already broken up, and what use could a room that reminded me of someone I once loved be? So why was I upset? I had no right—no right at all.