doing them.
It was her birthday. She didn’t care, but Billy and Patrick insisted on taking her out to dinner and to Finnegan’s. Stella put on jeans, t-shirt, and flip-flops. It was one month before the wedding that she never got to finish planning. Blowing her bangs out of her face, she looked into the mirror. It’s fine, I can make it through today . She walked upstairs and poured herself a tall vodka on the rocks and waited for Patrick to get home. Stella sat on the couch and twisted the engagement ring still on her finger.
Stella was already on glass number three when Patrick got home. “Happy Birthday,” he yelled.
“Fucking happy,” she responded.
“Come on let’s go. Billy’s already there and you’re already drunk.”
“I’m not drunk yet,” she said.
The night was blur, she drank so much that she really had no grasp of conversations or events. At one point she fell off the back of her bar stool. Patrick got frustrated and brought her home. Somehow she made it down the stairs to her room, pulled her clothes off, and passed out on the bathroom floor.
The night was clear and dark. Stars shone like diamonds in the sky. She and Jamie were walking on the beach, hand in hand. Stella was barefoot, wearing her wedding dress and Jamie was in a seersucker suit. She heard a loud crash and tried to find where it had come from. A car was barreling down the sand back from the street and onto the beach. She pulled on Jamie’s arm to get him out of the way, but the car hit them both. Jamie was unconscious, his body twisted and trapped under the car, and Stella was pinned, still holding his hand. The front left tire of the car rested on her chest, she couldn’t breathe.
She screamed and woke with a start. She hadn’t had a nightmare in awhile. Stella pushed herself off the chilly tile floor and walked upstairs. She opened Patrick’s door, crawled into his bed. His eyes still closed, he turned toward her back and wrapped his arms around her. Feeling her nightmare let go, she let go too, and fell into a restless sleep.
Stella bent over behind the glass case arranging in the best-looking cookies she had ever seen. It was after the lunch rush, and time to refill the dessert case, then she would go on break. “Hi, there,” she heard, and stood up quickly.
“Oh... hi.” It was George. He wasn’t lying when he said he came in to Cosi for lunch every day.
She’d started looking forward to his lunch break.
“I want one of those cookies,” he smiled, putting his plate down on the glass counter by the register.
“I know, they look delicious.” She grabbed one, bagged it, and pulled her gloves off as she moved to the register.
“You’re practically drooling.” George pulled out his wallet and gave her cash to cover his lunch and cookie.
“It’s hard not to. I’ve eaten at least one of everything.” She tucked a stray hair that came loose from her braid behind her ear. “Enjoy it,” she said and walked to the back to clock for her break.
She ordered a Turkey and Brie, her favorite sandwich, and sat at a table near George. She pulled out her Kindle and was ready to read about a girl escaping her past by going to college, who fell in love with a beautiful bad boy.
“Stella, come sit with me. Keep me company.” He nodded at the chair across the table.
“Okay.” Stella picked up her things, put her Kindle back in its case and made her way to George’s table. George pushed the chair out with his foot.
“Turkey and Brie,” he said, “that’s a good one.”
“My favorite, but so not good for me.” Stella pointed at the tattoos on his arms. “Do you mind me asking what the dates are?”
“People really shouldn’t have tattoos if they don’t want people asking what they mean, should they?” He smiled. “5/24/48 is my Dad’s birth date and 9/12/11 is the day he died.”
“I’m so sorry,” Stella said, looking down at her sandwich.
George pushed his cookie toward her. “I
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