acceptance
letters, I picked the one that offered me a full scholarship. I didn’t want
any ties, financial or otherwise, with my parents. Eventually, I would move on
to live my own life. In the meantime, I would comply—and mind my own business.
Even though
Katie and I were on the same page regarding how we felt about Bloom, she didn’t
exactly get my strategy for picking a school. She said I was cutting my nose
off to spite my face. Unlike me, she’d had career goals since she was in kindergarten,
so I knew she couldn’t fathom picking a college the way I did. My scholarship
was a great thing, because there was always the possibility my dad would just
write me off. There was precedence in that matter.
Katie’s
judgment might’ve had more to do with losing her mom than anything else. I
didn’t think she liked the idea of someone willingly tossing her parents
aside. Not that I argued with that—I didn’t know what it was like to have a
dead mom (Katie reminded me of that). Anyway, we agreed to disagree. We were
best friends, and we accepted each other as is.
At least,
that was what I believed.
Even when
the missing parts in my family made me feel like I didn’t want to spend Sundays
with my parents, Katie seemed to want that. Maybe it made her forget about the
hole in her own family for an hour or two. When she started up another
conversation at our table, I forgot there were missing parts in Katie for a
little while, too.
Now, I had
my own missing parts to find. So after dinner, I walked to Kyle’s and watched
a stupid movie with him until curfew, curling up next to him on the couch,
knowing that the key to unraveling my memories was right there.
Chapter 12
My first day
of work at TEA was a never-ending cycle of making tea drinks and taking money.
Despite its tired atmosphere, the cafe was busy in the morning. the bulk of the
line was filled with hospital employees—doctors and nurses in scrubs, impatient doctors and nurses. Many of which I doubted had ever worked behind a counter,
or if they had, they were seriously forgetting the frenetic pace, and the pain
of a steam burn. I mentally cringed at my past self for ever being impatient
while standing in a line, because it was not easy being a barista, especially
during the before work rush.
When I got a
break, I sunk into one of the cushioned chairs in the corner. It was a perfect
place to rest my feet. The morning rush was over, and it was finally quiet,
minus the low hum of sitar music. I reached into the basket near my feet and
pulled out a few books. They were mostly picture books, but my feet throbbed
in protest at even the thought of trolling the café for a different basket of
books.
I set the
books on my lap, smiling when I recognized the one on top. Out of habit, I
sniffed the book. I loved the smell of books, although it was hard to discern
through the strong smell of spices in TEA. That was okay because together the
smells were almost euphoric.
I flipped
through the book, taking in the illustrations and skimming the words. It
reminded me how much I’d always loved to read when I was a kid. I used to
carry a book with me in my purse for such moments of downtime, and libraries
were like a safe haven. My favorite library of all time was at Holt
University, a school right near my Grandma’s old house, almost an hour southeast
of Bloom, near Fredericksburg. I used to visit most summers when I was
younger, and I loved to curl up on the wicker couch, the one with the floral
cushions, in the corner of her house’s massive stone porch. I could smell the
flowers in every breeze. If it were hot, I’d hike across the tree-lined campus
to the library to read. The college was an older school, and the library was
huge with lots of polished wood, and museum type decor like antique swords and
paintings. The rotunda was by far the best view, with its shiny marble floor.
There was a round
letters, I picked the one that offered me a full scholarship. I didn’t want
any ties, financial or otherwise, with my parents. Eventually, I would move on
to live my own life. In the meantime, I would comply—and mind my own business.
Even though
Katie and I were on the same page regarding how we felt about Bloom, she didn’t
exactly get my strategy for picking a school. She said I was cutting my nose
off to spite my face. Unlike me, she’d had career goals since she was in kindergarten,
so I knew she couldn’t fathom picking a college the way I did. My scholarship
was a great thing, because there was always the possibility my dad would just
write me off. There was precedence in that matter.
Katie’s
judgment might’ve had more to do with losing her mom than anything else. I
didn’t think she liked the idea of someone willingly tossing her parents
aside. Not that I argued with that—I didn’t know what it was like to have a
dead mom (Katie reminded me of that). Anyway, we agreed to disagree. We were
best friends, and we accepted each other as is.
At least,
that was what I believed.
Even when
the missing parts in my family made me feel like I didn’t want to spend Sundays
with my parents, Katie seemed to want that. Maybe it made her forget about the
hole in her own family for an hour or two. When she started up another
conversation at our table, I forgot there were missing parts in Katie for a
little while, too.
Now, I had
my own missing parts to find. So after dinner, I walked to Kyle’s and watched
a stupid movie with him until curfew, curling up next to him on the couch,
knowing that the key to unraveling my memories was right there.
Chapter 12
My first day
of work at TEA was a never-ending cycle of making tea drinks and taking money.
Despite its tired atmosphere, the cafe was busy in the morning. the bulk of the
line was filled with hospital employees—doctors and nurses in scrubs, impatient doctors and nurses. Many of which I doubted had ever worked behind a counter,
or if they had, they were seriously forgetting the frenetic pace, and the pain
of a steam burn. I mentally cringed at my past self for ever being impatient
while standing in a line, because it was not easy being a barista, especially
during the before work rush.
When I got a
break, I sunk into one of the cushioned chairs in the corner. It was a perfect
place to rest my feet. The morning rush was over, and it was finally quiet,
minus the low hum of sitar music. I reached into the basket near my feet and
pulled out a few books. They were mostly picture books, but my feet throbbed
in protest at even the thought of trolling the café for a different basket of
books.
I set the
books on my lap, smiling when I recognized the one on top. Out of habit, I
sniffed the book. I loved the smell of books, although it was hard to discern
through the strong smell of spices in TEA. That was okay because together the
smells were almost euphoric.
I flipped
through the book, taking in the illustrations and skimming the words. It
reminded me how much I’d always loved to read when I was a kid. I used to
carry a book with me in my purse for such moments of downtime, and libraries
were like a safe haven. My favorite library of all time was at Holt
University, a school right near my Grandma’s old house, almost an hour southeast
of Bloom, near Fredericksburg. I used to visit most summers when I was
younger, and I loved to curl up on the wicker couch, the one with the floral
cushions, in the corner of her house’s massive stone porch. I could smell the
flowers in every breeze. If it were hot, I’d hike across the tree-lined campus
to the library to read. The college was an older school, and the library was
huge with lots of polished wood, and museum type decor like antique swords and
paintings. The rotunda was by far the best view, with its shiny marble floor.
There was a round
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