I’m now back at work, although it took another week of reading that letter over and over again to convince me to get there. I still don’t want to be here, but I owe it to Sam. I owe it to him to try at least, although I know if he saw me, he would say I’m not trying at all.
It’s funny, since I found the letter I’ve found other things he did around the place. Little things I’d never noticed before, because I guess I’d always been too busy looking at him. Now when I look in the bathroom mirror, I see the cheesy little heart with our initials in it that he drew in the corner with my eyeliner pencil. Now when I roll over in bed, I see the words goodnight Ash written on the side of the bedside table in black marker pen. The same words he whispered to me every night before pressing a kiss to the back of my neck.
He did this for me.
All of it he did for me, because he knew exactly how I would feel when he was gone and he wouldn’t be here to make it better. It makes me love him even more.
∞
Work is different since I left. For one thing, there’s a new guy. They brought him in when I wasn’t at work, but evidently they’re keeping him. I think it’s an attempt by the owner to revamp the place. The new guy seems nice enough, although I’ve noticed he’s always looking at me. I’ve stopped asking him, "What?" every time I catch him, because most of the time he just shrugs, smiles and goes back to work. The others I work with are more removed now too. Not quite avoiding me, but just being more cautious. For their sake it’s probably better this way.
I work in a book café on Newbury Street. It’s good, because when we’re quiet, Robert the owner doesn’t care if we read some of the books, as long as the work gets done. Most of the time, I’m behind the counter making coffees, selling books, or taking food and drinks out to customers. New guy is strictly food prep. I think he might actually be a qualified chef, so god knows what he’s doing in this place. I haven’t felt the need to ask him.
There are four permanent staff working here, five if Robert stops by, which is rare. There are a bunch of casuals too, but they rotate often enough that I never bother getting to know them. But the permanent people are me, the new guy, Sarah who does ordering, stocks shelves and serves like me, and Liam, who washes dishes, cleans tables and does whatever else needs to be done. Sarah is fine, easy-going and I guess we’re friends in as much of a way as I’ll ever allow. Liam is a dickhead, who I try to ignore most of the time. I’ve never liked him and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon. He seems to talk to the new guy though. None of them know about me and my little problem, although Liam and Sarah obviously know about Sam. Sam used to come in most days to pick me up after work. He’d come in, browse the shelves if I was still working, maybe have a coffee, then when I walked out to go, he would stand up and kiss me, wrap his arm around my waist and whisper in my ear, "Let’s go home." God I miss that.
So when I finally come back, Sarah and Liam are sympathetic but noticeably distant. I’m sure they wonder what happened, it was strange, the circumstances surrounding Sam’s death, but Sarah at least is nice enough not to ask any questions. I appreciate her for that. I guess they’ve probably told the new guy too, he doesn’t ask me any questions either, just gives me those strange looks.
So now, here I am, back at work. Weeks after I lost Sam and still desperately trying to believe the words he left for me. Trying to live as he asked me to, but knowing really, I’m failing quite spectacularly.
∞
Today is Friday and the rain that’s been falling all week has finally stopped. When I arrive at work it’s only me and the new guy, who by now is no longer new guy, but Luke. We are now also on speaking terms or at least terms that don’t involve him just looking at me and me asking, "What?" in response. Now when I walk in, it’s more like –
"Hey Luke, want a coffee?"
To which I get. "Yep, long black, thanks Ash."
Then I make us both coffee, take his back to him and we get on with our day. We are usually the only ones in there for the first hour or so and we might chat some more, but it’s never anything heavy and it’s never anything personal. For that I’m extremely grateful.
Only today for some reason, something changes. Today when I take Luke his coffee, something startles him as I walk into the kitchen and his knife slips. It feels the same as any other morning, except today the knife slips. When it happens, it’s like watching it all unfold in slow motion and no matter how much I want to, I’m unable to turn away or stop it. I see the blood pool in his hand and reflected back in the shiny metal of the knife. I see drops fall to the floor, dark red stains on white tile and instantly my body reacts. My hands let go of the coffee mugs which fall and shatter at my feet. At the same time Luke says, "Shit," loudly and I feel the heat of the coffee on my legs. I ignore the burn because it’s not important right now.
This can’t be because of me, it’s too soon. This can’t be because of me.