Chasing the Tide
Page 24
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Julie frowned. “This is serious, Ellie,” she chastised; looking worried.
“Isn’t it always?” I mumbled, opening the car door. “I’ll go pack my stuff and be right back.”
Julie reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me. I shook her off, baring my teeth. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
“What can I do to help you, Ellie? You’re a smart, amazing girl. You’re better then this. You don’t see what’s at the end of this road you’re traveling down, but I do. And I’m scared to death of where you’ll end up. I want more for you, kid,” she said and there were tears in her eyes.
I hated it when she got all emotional and touchy feely.
“I’ll be right back,” I responded through clenched teeth. I slammed the car door and went to get my stuff.
Time to get fobbed off on the next unsuspecting family.
**
“Ellie!”
I smiled at the sight of Julie Waterman waving her hand in my direction. I walked into Darla’s Drink and Dine and shook the snow out of my hair. It was coming down hard and I worried about getting back to Flynn’s with the way it was laying on the road.
I looked around my once familiar haunt to find that it had expanded in the last few years. Darla had obviously decided to reduce the size of the consignment shop in order to make room for more tables and chairs. The place was packed, which was unusual for lunchtime. Darla had never been known for her culinary cuisine. But her donuts were amazing.
Julie got to her feet and held her arms out. She had never cared much that I wasn’t the hugging sort. And after a time I had come to accept that I’d never be able to see her without subjecting myself to her brand of physical affection.
She patted me on the shoulder and beamed. “It is so good to see you!” she remarked enthusiastically. Julie was dressed in her usual wacked out grandma fashion with a long red skirt and ugly Christmas sweater, even though it was January. Her frizzy brown hair was held back in a banana clip, something I had never seen this side of 1989.
I took off my oversized wool coat and smoothed out my black, pencil skirt before sitting down. I crossed my legs feeling uncomfortable in what I was wearing. Julie’s eyes widened when she took in my outfit.
“Did someone die?” she asked, looking pointedly at my blue, button down blouse with the frilly collar.
“Hardy-har-har. I had a job interview, smart ass,” I told her, picking up the cup of coffee Julie had already ordered for me.
“A job interview? Really? That’s great! For what?” she asked, speaking rapidly.
“Nothing special. Just a receptionist gig at an accounting firm. I’ll know if I get a second interview by the end of the week,” I remarked off handedly, trying not to sound concerned. But I was definitely buzzing.
The interview had gone surprisingly well. Once Wilma removed the giant stick from her ass, she was actually a pretty nice lady. I had made sure to wear my best attitude and even laughed at her less than humorous attempts at jokes. I answered her questions decently enough and I thought I had presented myself pretty damn well, considering I wasn’t typically the type of person to make any sort of effort.
And even though I didn’t have much in the way of work experience, Wilma seemed okay with that. I had left the interview feeling cautiously optimistic.
“It sounds awesome, Ellie! I’m so proud of you!” Julie enthused, reaching across the table and putting her hand over mine. I stiffened, an instinctual response to being touched in any way. But instead of pulling away as I once would have, I turned my hand over and squeezed hers.
“Thanks.”
The café was loud and I was having a hard time hearing anything over the drone of voices. I looked around at the crowded room. “Since when is Darla’s so popular?” I asked. Julie picked up a donut and crammed it in her mouth, powdered sugar dusting her god-awful sweater.
“She got a new cook last year. He’s amazing. He started doing lunch specials every day and now it’s almost impossible to get a table in this place,” Julie answered, reaching for another donut.
“Huh. Well it’s good to see some things have changed, I guess,” I mused, sipping on my coffee.
“So. You’re living with Flynn,” Julie began, looking at me over the rim of her mug. Julie knew about Flynn and me. She had been surprised, like everyone else had been. But she had never really commented on our relationship, knowing it wasn’t her place to do so. She could express her opinion about all sorts of things, but not Flynn.
“Yep,” I said.
“How’s that going?” she asked.
“Fine,” I replied shortly.
“Just fine?” Julie pressed.
“Yes, just fine,” I lobbed back.
I didn’t want to admit that I was finding it harder than I thought I would. That sharing a space with Flynn took an endless amount of patience that some days I worried I didn’t have.
I loved Flynn. More than anything. I wanted to make this work. But I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t fallen prey to delusional fantasies about our happily ever after.
After seeing Dania at the store, I had gone home and made lasagna. My mood had soured considerably by that point.
I had spent almost two hours prepping and cooking. When Flynn had come home he didn’t say anything about the effort I had put into dinner. And when we had sat down, he picked at his food, barely eating.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I had asked him.
“Isn’t it always?” I mumbled, opening the car door. “I’ll go pack my stuff and be right back.”
Julie reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me. I shook her off, baring my teeth. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
“What can I do to help you, Ellie? You’re a smart, amazing girl. You’re better then this. You don’t see what’s at the end of this road you’re traveling down, but I do. And I’m scared to death of where you’ll end up. I want more for you, kid,” she said and there were tears in her eyes.
I hated it when she got all emotional and touchy feely.
“I’ll be right back,” I responded through clenched teeth. I slammed the car door and went to get my stuff.
Time to get fobbed off on the next unsuspecting family.
**
“Ellie!”
I smiled at the sight of Julie Waterman waving her hand in my direction. I walked into Darla’s Drink and Dine and shook the snow out of my hair. It was coming down hard and I worried about getting back to Flynn’s with the way it was laying on the road.
I looked around my once familiar haunt to find that it had expanded in the last few years. Darla had obviously decided to reduce the size of the consignment shop in order to make room for more tables and chairs. The place was packed, which was unusual for lunchtime. Darla had never been known for her culinary cuisine. But her donuts were amazing.
Julie got to her feet and held her arms out. She had never cared much that I wasn’t the hugging sort. And after a time I had come to accept that I’d never be able to see her without subjecting myself to her brand of physical affection.
She patted me on the shoulder and beamed. “It is so good to see you!” she remarked enthusiastically. Julie was dressed in her usual wacked out grandma fashion with a long red skirt and ugly Christmas sweater, even though it was January. Her frizzy brown hair was held back in a banana clip, something I had never seen this side of 1989.
I took off my oversized wool coat and smoothed out my black, pencil skirt before sitting down. I crossed my legs feeling uncomfortable in what I was wearing. Julie’s eyes widened when she took in my outfit.
“Did someone die?” she asked, looking pointedly at my blue, button down blouse with the frilly collar.
“Hardy-har-har. I had a job interview, smart ass,” I told her, picking up the cup of coffee Julie had already ordered for me.
“A job interview? Really? That’s great! For what?” she asked, speaking rapidly.
“Nothing special. Just a receptionist gig at an accounting firm. I’ll know if I get a second interview by the end of the week,” I remarked off handedly, trying not to sound concerned. But I was definitely buzzing.
The interview had gone surprisingly well. Once Wilma removed the giant stick from her ass, she was actually a pretty nice lady. I had made sure to wear my best attitude and even laughed at her less than humorous attempts at jokes. I answered her questions decently enough and I thought I had presented myself pretty damn well, considering I wasn’t typically the type of person to make any sort of effort.
And even though I didn’t have much in the way of work experience, Wilma seemed okay with that. I had left the interview feeling cautiously optimistic.
“It sounds awesome, Ellie! I’m so proud of you!” Julie enthused, reaching across the table and putting her hand over mine. I stiffened, an instinctual response to being touched in any way. But instead of pulling away as I once would have, I turned my hand over and squeezed hers.
“Thanks.”
The café was loud and I was having a hard time hearing anything over the drone of voices. I looked around at the crowded room. “Since when is Darla’s so popular?” I asked. Julie picked up a donut and crammed it in her mouth, powdered sugar dusting her god-awful sweater.
“She got a new cook last year. He’s amazing. He started doing lunch specials every day and now it’s almost impossible to get a table in this place,” Julie answered, reaching for another donut.
“Huh. Well it’s good to see some things have changed, I guess,” I mused, sipping on my coffee.
“So. You’re living with Flynn,” Julie began, looking at me over the rim of her mug. Julie knew about Flynn and me. She had been surprised, like everyone else had been. But she had never really commented on our relationship, knowing it wasn’t her place to do so. She could express her opinion about all sorts of things, but not Flynn.
“Yep,” I said.
“How’s that going?” she asked.
“Fine,” I replied shortly.
“Just fine?” Julie pressed.
“Yes, just fine,” I lobbed back.
I didn’t want to admit that I was finding it harder than I thought I would. That sharing a space with Flynn took an endless amount of patience that some days I worried I didn’t have.
I loved Flynn. More than anything. I wanted to make this work. But I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t fallen prey to delusional fantasies about our happily ever after.
After seeing Dania at the store, I had gone home and made lasagna. My mood had soured considerably by that point.
I had spent almost two hours prepping and cooking. When Flynn had come home he didn’t say anything about the effort I had put into dinner. And when we had sat down, he picked at his food, barely eating.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I had asked him.
