The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 46 - The Blow

I wince as I take out the loaded tray from the dishwasher and set it on the sink. I start polishing the glasses mechanically. It's still early. There's hardly anyone in the bar. The Latino music is loud in my ears, just how I like it. It fills the crannies in my head and doesn't leave room for anything but the routine polishing movements, setting the glasses upside down on the shelves, one next to the other like soldiers ready for battle. It is soothing. Grounding. It brings order and order is good. Order and routine and rules.

No secrets. No yelling. No accidents. Not anymore.

I load another tray and wince again as I lower it into the dishwasher and programme another cycle. I straighten up and breathe slowly until the tenderness in my ribs subsides. Not deep breaths. Deep breaths are painful for now. But it won't be for long. Give it two days. It will pass.

The memory of Keith's livid face on the other hand, inches away from mine, flicks of his spit in my eyes, his words worming their way deep inside my head... that will take longer to go away and it hurts more than all my bruises put together.

I was fine. Things were falling into place. The morning after Sosa moved in, Keith and I turned the storage room into a cosy little bedroom for her. She was calmer. Happier. And so was I.

She told her father she moved out. She told him about Derek and he was surprisingly supportive. He wanted to report him to the police but she didn't let him. He promised he wouldn't tell anyone where she was as long as she stayed in touch, which she did.

For the past few weeks, Mr Mifsud has been visiting us once a week, just so that he can see for himself that we are doing okay. Sosa and I prepare a meal and the four of us eat together. Keith and Mr Mifsud talk about football all night. They're both Manchester United fans. It feels good when he's there. Like we're striving towards some form of normality. And while Keith and I still argue, our cold apartment is finally beginning to feel like home. Or at least, it was until life struck us once again, like the impending promise that it is.

Derek found Sosa. He came over to the store and made a scene, not giving a damn about me or the surveillance cameras. Sosa tried to fend him off but seeing the maddened look in his eyes, I pulled her into the back room and locked the door from the inside while I called Jeremy. I held a shaking Sosa, tightly covering her ears, as I listened helplessly to Derek tearing up the store on the other side of the door. Then Jeremy's voice came strong and resounding and I opened the door just enough to peep through the small gap.

Jeremy didn't even bat an eye as he grabbed Derek from behind his shoulders and threw him out onto the pavement, threatening to call the police if he ever so much as saw him lurking around the square. Derek spat at him and mumbled something about minding his own business but he scrambled into his car and drove off nonetheless.

Jeremy rushed back to us as we slowly crept out of the back room. His eyes did not leave my face for a second, scanning me like an X-ray monitor. I almost burst into tears. I hadn't seen him in months, since I moved in with Keith. I thought he'd reach out. I thought he'd take me into his arms just like he used to. And I would have run into them even if just to have a moment of peace, even if just to wrap myself in his safety for mere seconds. But he just closed his eyes and told us to take the rest of the day off.

We didn't say much on our way home and once we got inside, we just sat in the balcony drinking coffee, staring over the green fields. I asked her about Shaun, but she just shook her head.

Hours later, Keith came home and found me sitting by myself in the dark kitchen. He asked what happened. I told him. For some stupid reason, I told him everything.

"You're still running to him," he snarled.

"It's his store! Who else would I call? He's my boss," I yelled.