Mona beamed and refilled, laughed and restocked breakfast items, took orders and hit the cash button on the register until one forty.
At one forty-five, after the last customer left, we collapsed into the chairs. Crumbs littered the tables and floors. The garbage overflowed with coffee grounds. The sandwich board needed serious restocking, since after we ran out the Gran’s goods people started ordering from the lunch menu. Neither of us moved to clean a thing.
“My feet hurt,” I said with a little groan.
Mona laughed. “I’d say you could leave, but I really need your help, or I’ll be crawling out of here at midnight.”
Smiling and tiredly I got to my feet as someone tapped at the door. Morik stood outside, looking in.
Mona let him in while I got the wash bucket for the tables. When I came back out, he had a broom in his hand. I wanted to hug him.
Mona turned up the radio and we set to work again. I never realized how much time all the cleanup and prep I did throughout the day saved us by the end of the day. It took forty minutes to finish.
Putting the last container of sliced tomatoes in the refrigerator, I grabbed my jacket and hobbled to the front. Mona, just finished counting out the tips, handed me a wad with a huge smile.
“Eighty bucks,” she said proudly. “I love making hung-over people happy.” She handed me a fat envelope with Gran’s name.
I liked the money, but not the achy feet. Morik helped me to the car.
When we got home, Gran sat on the couch while mom and Aunt Grace worked together in the kitchen to put away the last of the dishes. They had Miss Congeniality playing. One of my favorites. After tossing my things in the direction of the coat hook, I collapsed on the couch next to Gran, limply handing her the envelope.
“I couldn’t believe Morik when he came back at eight saying you’d need more.” Gran picked up the envelope with a grin. “Did you sell everything in the second batch too?”
I nodded, eyes focused on the screen. Morik sat on the floor in front of me, nudging one of my legs to the side. Grudgingly I moved. When he picked up the foot and started rubbing it, I sighed and closed my eyes.
“Cars and foot rubs?” Aunt Danielle grumbled. “Idiot Belinda.”
My thoughts exactly.
Returning to school felt good. Though I liked spending time with Morik, I craved the normalcy of monotony, especially with Mom’s spring wedding plans still underway.
January’s piercing cold and short days wore on me, as did my shortening time. By the end of the month, Mom relented on her rule about not spending the night at Morik’s. I could see the worry in her eyes. Less than four months until I turned seventeen.
Staying at Morik’s meant no chant, which had several benefits, like waking early before school and making my own breakfast. I was heartily sick of toast.
When I opened my eyes on the last Monday in January, my first thought was pancakes. My second was how nice and toasty warm sleeping next to Morik made me. I didn’t get up. Instead, I turned to look at him taking the opportunity to study him.
Most mornings he watched me, proving his statement that he didn’t sleep much. But occasionally I caught him resting with his eyes closed, like this morning.
His black lashes twitched against his skin. Did he dream? I hoped he dreamt something happy, carefree.
He didn’t voice any concern about my choice or the link. He didn’t need to. We all knew it loomed. Everyone dealt with it in his or her own way. He remained extremely attentive when with me only parting company when he dropped me off at school. Mom and Aunt Grace planned a wedding and Gran threw herself into her baking.
Morik and I grew closer and more relaxed in each other’s company. I loved going home after school and cooking an unusual dinner with Gran and Morik.
They spent the day planning and shopping while I attended school. His interest in cooking delighted Gran. Any dinner he liked, he made a copy of the recipe. After exhausting Gran’s cookbooks of appealing options, he bought her a laptop so she could research recipes online. It also provided her a way to track the return of investment for her baked goods that we still delivered daily to the Coffee Shop.
After dinner, when I stayed home, he slept next to me waiting for my family’s chant to wear off. When I stayed at his house, we played games or watched a movie before bed.
For all of our time together, nothing changed. The stunted twist of black and silver, the representation of our link, ended abruptly in the sway of my back. Its continued lack of growth frustrated me.
I tried recreating the moments I associated with the first appearance of it and its subsequent growth, but nothing happened. Well, I shouldn’t say that. Morik really liked when I spontaneously kissed him, but despite the consuming black in his eyes, more often I saw a stronger presence of yellow. I didn’t let him know his eyes gave away his thoughts.