Craving Perfect by Liz Fichera

brewing.
    It was all there. Just as I left it this morning. Every wonderful, crazy, sometimes dysfunctional inch of it.
    I sank back into my seat and sighed. I was home. And I was inside my own body, the only one where I knew how to work all of its parts.
    I still had no idea how to explain what happened. Could I have been dreaming?
    But that was some dream—hallucination was more like it. Maybe I hit my head harder last week than I thought. Maybe I needed to talk to somebody, a doctor. Maybe even a shrink.
    Through the windows, I spotted Kathryn straightening tables and chairs and my chest tightened. She had a roll of old newspapers underneath one arm, probably wondering why I was late.
    If she only knew! And if only I could tell her.
    The trouble was I could barely believe any of it myself.
    I shut off the engine, fed the parking meter, and practically skipped to the front door.
    “Why’d you park in front?” Kathryn asked me, clearing her throat as she continued to straighten chairs that were already straightened.
    Before I could answer, I tossed my gym bag on an empty chair inside the door and ran to hug her, practically body slamming her in the process.
    “Huh?” Kathryn’s body froze in my arms. “What’s wrong?”
    Without answering, I ran from her to the black-and-white family photograph above the cash register.
    I grinned at it.
    I was back in the middle, wedged next to Kathryn, our arms wrapped around each other, all decked out in Easter dresses and matching patent leather purses. I was right back where I was supposed to be. I took a deep breath, pressing my hands against my neck, fingering my necklace.
    “What happened?”
    “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” My body still perspired. Still staring at the family photo, I winced. And then I forced out the question. “Hey, have you ever heard of anyone named…Callie Collins? I think she’s on the evening news or something…” I tried to sound vague.
    Kathryn chuckled darkly. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been able to watch the news in years.” She sniffed. As if she was crying. “Too busy keeping this place from bankruptcy.”
    I spun around to get a look at her, a good look. Her eyes were bloodshot. Red splotches dotted both pale cheeks.
    I moved closer. “What’s wrong?”
    Her lip quivered. She turned away, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
    “Tell me,” I pressed. “Why have you been crying?” I followed her until she pulled a chair from a table and dropped down with a heavy sigh. “If it’s this month’s receipts, don’t worry. We’ll make it. We always do, you know that.” I sat across from her, our knees touching.
    She chuckled again into her hand.
    “Come on.” I leaned closer. “Tell me.”
    “It’s nothing, really.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and continued to avoid my eyes.
    “It sure doesn’t look like nothing. You better tell me, ’cause I’m not budging.”
    “Eddie proposed this morning,” she blurted.
    My eyes widened, just as she covered her face in her hands. I leaned lower, confused. Then I shook my head and had to coax speech from my mouth. “And a proposal from one of the best-looking and nicest guys in Tempe makes you cry?”
    A half sob, half chuckle stuck in her throat before she started sobbing into her hands.
    Instinctively, I reached for one of her hands and pressed it between mine. But that only made her cry harder. “Kathryn?” My voice softened. “What is wrong? You’re scaring me. Tell me what’s really bothering you?”
    Kathryn just shook her head. She wouldn’t answer.
    Goosebumps ran up my arms, and not the good kind. My breathing quickened with confusion and fear. “At least show me the ring.” I forced a smile. My eyes scanned her fingers but they were all bare, especially the most important one.
    Kathryn finally raised her head and looked at me. Her nose was runny and red. She hiccupped. “I didn’t even look at the ring. I…I couldn’t.” Her