Worse than mine.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off Zander as he throws his bottle of beer back and then sets it down on the table harder than necessary.
“He doesn’t talk about them.” Kelsey’s voice is as soft as I’ve ever heard it. She’s not a soft and loving person by nature. I think the only other time I’ve heard her sound like this is when I first woke up from my coma.
But as I look at her, she smiles at me sadly and shrugs. “I figure it’s not worth fighting over. Someday if he’s ready, he’ll let me know what happened.”
“You don’t want to know, Kels.” Adam looks at her with a warning in his eyes that I imagine is trying to intimidate her, but it doesn’t bother her in the least.
“So you’ve said,” she snaps rudely.
“I don’t understand,” I say, looking back and forth between the two of them. I can’t understand why Adam feels the need to protect Zander – who looks completely capable of taking care of himself – against Kelsey of all people.
“Zander’s had a tough life, Amy. And one he doesn’t talk about, can we just leave it at that?” By the way Adam’s eyes are narrowed toward me and the edge his voice takes on, I take it as the rhetorical question it’s intended as.
“I can’t believe your parents don’t care that you live above a bar.” I smile, and Kelsey snickers. And this isn’t the five-star dining kind of bar or lounge that would be suitable to the standards of Kelsey’s parents, her dad in particular. This place is maybe a half-star.
She shrugs. “My dad likes that Zander doesn’t give a shit about football, and they’re not like your parents. They just want me to be happy.”
“Where mine …” I begin, but she cuts me off with a smile.
“Want you to do what makes them happy.”
My lips wrap around the straw of my drink and I take a long sip, thinking about it. It doesn’t take me long to figure out she’s completely right. And slowly, the bar doesn’t seem so small and dumpy. It feels a bit more like a home. And the coffee bar, where I’ve been struggling with how I ended up slinging drinks for a living, doesn’t seem like a step down. Everyday I’ve been there it’s begun to feel more like I’m around family.
I ignore the questions I have about Adam, I push aside my lack of memories, and I realize that my life, while it’s different than what I remembered it being, isn’t so bad after all.
Things are changing. Slowly moving at the pace of a snail, and some days it’s incredibly frustrating. When I’m left alone to the quiet of my apartment for too long, I want to have all my memories back, neatly in place exactly where they belong. I want the puzzle completed instead of having to slowly piece it back together bit by bit, not sure if I’m putting them in the right place until the next memory comes along.
Unfortunately, it’s not happening as quickly as I’d like it to.
But things are getting better.
Preston is incredible to be around, and I’m back to working full-time at the coffee shop. Zander came in the other night and played a set during the open mic night. His voice was amazing. Rich and dark and it lured in all the women, but he didn’t notice a single person in the room besides Kelsey. He sang directly to her for the entire hour he was on the small stage with his acoustic guitar.
I served coffee, iced drinks, and smoothies the entire night with a smile on my face. It isn’t a place I ever would have felt like I belonged, and yet somehow, I fit here.
The customers know me even if I don’t remember them, and yet they’re not the type of crowd to care. Almost everyone who comes into Hooka’s looks either stoned or like a tortured artist. Or both.
They don’t ask me questions that I don’t know how to answer.
Adam sat on a wobbly stool the entire night with a smile on his face and a drink in his hand watching me work and making jokes while I re-filled orders.
And sometimes Tyler comes in and
He doesn’t take his eyes off Zander as he throws his bottle of beer back and then sets it down on the table harder than necessary.
“He doesn’t talk about them.” Kelsey’s voice is as soft as I’ve ever heard it. She’s not a soft and loving person by nature. I think the only other time I’ve heard her sound like this is when I first woke up from my coma.
But as I look at her, she smiles at me sadly and shrugs. “I figure it’s not worth fighting over. Someday if he’s ready, he’ll let me know what happened.”
“You don’t want to know, Kels.” Adam looks at her with a warning in his eyes that I imagine is trying to intimidate her, but it doesn’t bother her in the least.
“So you’ve said,” she snaps rudely.
“I don’t understand,” I say, looking back and forth between the two of them. I can’t understand why Adam feels the need to protect Zander – who looks completely capable of taking care of himself – against Kelsey of all people.
“Zander’s had a tough life, Amy. And one he doesn’t talk about, can we just leave it at that?” By the way Adam’s eyes are narrowed toward me and the edge his voice takes on, I take it as the rhetorical question it’s intended as.
“I can’t believe your parents don’t care that you live above a bar.” I smile, and Kelsey snickers. And this isn’t the five-star dining kind of bar or lounge that would be suitable to the standards of Kelsey’s parents, her dad in particular. This place is maybe a half-star.
She shrugs. “My dad likes that Zander doesn’t give a shit about football, and they’re not like your parents. They just want me to be happy.”
“Where mine …” I begin, but she cuts me off with a smile.
“Want you to do what makes them happy.”
My lips wrap around the straw of my drink and I take a long sip, thinking about it. It doesn’t take me long to figure out she’s completely right. And slowly, the bar doesn’t seem so small and dumpy. It feels a bit more like a home. And the coffee bar, where I’ve been struggling with how I ended up slinging drinks for a living, doesn’t seem like a step down. Everyday I’ve been there it’s begun to feel more like I’m around family.
I ignore the questions I have about Adam, I push aside my lack of memories, and I realize that my life, while it’s different than what I remembered it being, isn’t so bad after all.
Things are changing. Slowly moving at the pace of a snail, and some days it’s incredibly frustrating. When I’m left alone to the quiet of my apartment for too long, I want to have all my memories back, neatly in place exactly where they belong. I want the puzzle completed instead of having to slowly piece it back together bit by bit, not sure if I’m putting them in the right place until the next memory comes along.
Unfortunately, it’s not happening as quickly as I’d like it to.
But things are getting better.
Preston is incredible to be around, and I’m back to working full-time at the coffee shop. Zander came in the other night and played a set during the open mic night. His voice was amazing. Rich and dark and it lured in all the women, but he didn’t notice a single person in the room besides Kelsey. He sang directly to her for the entire hour he was on the small stage with his acoustic guitar.
I served coffee, iced drinks, and smoothies the entire night with a smile on my face. It isn’t a place I ever would have felt like I belonged, and yet somehow, I fit here.
The customers know me even if I don’t remember them, and yet they’re not the type of crowd to care. Almost everyone who comes into Hooka’s looks either stoned or like a tortured artist. Or both.
They don’t ask me questions that I don’t know how to answer.
Adam sat on a wobbly stool the entire night with a smile on his face and a drink in his hand watching me work and making jokes while I re-filled orders.
And sometimes Tyler comes in and
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