THE WOMAN BEFORE

Chapter 13

R O S I N A

     THE WOMAN SITTING in the corner booth is looking at me. Staring actually. Every time I raise my head from the newspaper I’ve been reading, my eyes meet hers. I wonder if she blinks. She’s just watching me like I’m a statue. Her dark brown hair tumbles down her shoulder in an amass of flowing curls. Her eyes are small, accompanied by a short nose that ends in pouty lips. She’s wearing a polo shirt and a pair of blue jeans.

     If I should guess, I think she’s in her late thirties. There’s a mug of something sitting in front of her. Her manicured fingers are clasped around the ceramic. Vapor moves from the mug into the surrounding air. She hasn’t taken a sip since I sat at my favorite spot in Eddy’s café. Not a single sip.

     Why is she watching me like that? Does she know me? Maybe she knows me and wants to say hello but is shy or afraid. Her face doesn’t look familiar. I rack my brain to no avail. I haven’t met this woman before. If I did, I’d have remembered her.

     She’s probably just looking at me, and her mind is somewhere else. No cause for alarm. Just another random woman.

     Swallowing a sigh, I lower my eyes to the newspaper. I scan the words on the page I’m reading, but my mind isn’t focusing on them. My peripheral vision tells me the woman is watching me. I glance away from the paper, and immediately, my eyes meet hers. She’s still staring at me. God, who is this woman, and why is she looking at me like that?

     I don’t want to stare at her, of fear that she’ll realize I’m also watching, but she probably knows that by now. I pick up my mug, bring it close to my lips, and take a dutiful sip. Carefully, I replace it on the table and look at my phone screen. A quarter past nine, and Lauren still hasn’t shown up. Does she plan to be late for work today?

     I badly need the company of somebody, so I can avoid the eyes of the woman. From the way she’s looking at me, I’m sure she knows who I am. Or at least have the slightest idea. I’ve never felt like this before, and I wonder why I’m not hyperventilating already. If not for scheduling a meeting with Lauren, I would have left already to avoid this creepy woman staring right at me.

     I take out my phone and sit back on the sofa, giving my full attention to it and pretending as though the woman doesn’t exist. I check recent messages from friends. Some want to know what food would be served at the reception. A few are vegan, and I told the cook about them. I text them back, assuring them all kinds of food would be served, including vegan foods. Then I add the smiling emoji. I get a reply text of the love emoji from Jennifer, my florist.

     I check up on my husband-to-be. He’s online and texting.

     I’ve missed you.

     I text back, I’ve missed you more. How’s work?

     I wait, my eyes glued to the screen which says typing. It takes a while before it loads.

     Boring as usual. You’re not here to make it lively.

     I text him with the crying emoji. He’s missed me already, but he has no idea I miss him more.

     Where are you?

     I text back, Eddy’s café. Waiting for Lauren to update her.

     Last night over dinner, I told Evans about Lauren’s situation, and he offered to help. Another branch of the specialty food store right here in Amarillo needs a salesman and based on Jacob’s experience, Evans said he’s ready to hire him.

     He texts back, All right. Sorry about last night. The 🌹.

     I smile warmly. He’s still onto that.

     Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. You didn’t know.

     I’m not going to make a big fuss out of him buying something that can harm me when he has no idea about it. It’d have been a different scenario if he knew and still went ahead to buy them.

     He’s typing. Three seconds elapse before my phone buzzes. What else are you allergic to?

     Apart from 🌹, there’s nothing else.

     He texts, Okay. What should I get you tonight?

     Chardonnay.

     All right. See you tonight. Love you.

     I text back, Love you more.

     I hit the send button, a smile plastered on my face. When I look up, a familiar waitress stands in front of me holding an envelope.

     “Hey,” I say, “I don’t need anything at the moment.”

     She smiles at me. “I know. Someone asked me to give you this.” She holds up the envelope to me.

     I look between her and the white paper before reluctantly taking it. Turning it upside down, I check for any writing, but there’s none. My eyes widen, and I look at the waitress. “Who asked you to give me this?”

     “This woman.” She turns around and lifts a finger, which she quickly drops.

     “She was sitting there a while ago,” she says.

     I know that. But where did she go? Quickly, I crane my neck and peer into the pane, hoping to catch a glimpse of her outside the café, but all I see is the idyllic town, the meandering street with stores nestled along it, and the usual commuters hurrying to work. She’s gone!

     I let out a sigh and glance at the waitress who is looking agape at me with raised brows.

     “It’s fine. Thank you,” I tell her.

     “I’m over there if you need anything.”

     I bob my head. As she moves away, I rip the envelope open. A picture of a mannequin wearing a lace gown that has been shredded into pieces looks at my face. I take a closer look and gasp. God, that’s my wedding gown!

     A group of words at the back of the picture catches my eyes when I tilt it. I toss it over. My lips slowly move apart from reading the words. I’m just getting started.

     And that’s when I know who the woman was. I tremble when her name rings in my head. Isla.