Falter (5 page)

“Oops, sorry,” the gray-haired woman murmured. She offered an apologetic smile before yelling at the cooks for messing up someone’s burger. When I turned to ask Layla the lady’s name, she had disappeared.

“Order up!” a familiar voice called from the kitchen. Gavyn grinned as he sat a bowl of mac and cheese on the serving counter and slid it through the window. His gaze lingered on me for a moment, then focused on the cook asking him for more olive oil.
 

Since Layla left me, and everyone else was flittering about their business, I decided to take a chance. My eyes landed on the table layout taped to the wall next to the drink fountain. It was a pretty simple drawing of numbers representing the twelve tables lining the walls of the café and another six that were scattered around the center floor.
 

“What the hell. Gotta start somewhere.”
 

I committed as much of the chart as I could to memory and took a deep breath. Feeling confident, I moved to the end of the counter, picked up the next waiting order, and headed to the assigned seats. As I turned to walk away, I caught Gavyn’s eyes watching me.
 

When I returned to the bar, Layla was waiting.
 

“Wow, you take initiative don’t you? Just be careful. We’re laid back, but someone might mistake you for taking their customers for tips,” she advised.
 

I spent the rest of the day reading order pads to memorize the food and observing the other workers prepare dishes. The rush of people around me felt exhilarating. The pace picked up during lunchtime, but I welcomed it. I enjoyed the challenge.
 

Layla and I were much closer by the time dinner rolled around. We’d squeezed in time during breaks to learn about each other. She obviously had much more to talk about than I did, and it was nice to hear about someone with a normal life. Behind her extreme confidence, Layla was very comforting. Her personality reeled you in, making you want to tell her everything about yourself.
 

After a long, busy day, it was finally closing time. I was helping roll silverware and wipe down table tops when my imagination wandered to the man I’d met at the door. His eyes were as deep as the sea. I could easily drown in them. His lips looked smoother than silk. It was silly thinking of things like that, but his image had roamed in and out of my thoughts all day.

There was something different about him. He wasn’t like the men that walked by me daily, winking and smiling out of courtesy. I felt an unexplainable connection to him. It was as if he knew me without having met me before. Even now, the emotions he stirred within me were exhilarating.
 

Maybe he would have stayed and talked if I’d just figured out what to say. Maybe I could have snuffed this unyielding interest.

While gathering the broom and dustpan from behind the bar, exhaustion from the day started to catch up with me. George had beaten me to the shower, already finished with his work, and soon it would be my turn. Everyone was gone. The humming of the café had stopped. The only noise left was a song playing on a jukebox.
 

I recognized the tune and began a slow sway to the beat as I brushed the broom back and forth across the floor. Music was an escape for me, and the sweet sound of Nora Jones was one of my favorites. She sang “Come Away With Me,” and I closed my eyes, dreaming of places I’d never been—of a life I could be proud of and memories I would no longer forget.
 

I was so distracted by my daydreaming and dancing that I didn’t notice the approaching presence until a warm hand took mine. Taken completely off guard, I stumbled back into a table. The wooden legs slid, scraping against the floor. The broom dropped from my hand and smacked the hard, wooden planks with a loud pop. Stacked chairs fell from the tabletop and crashed on the ground. I felt my feet begin to lose their footing and scrunched my face with anticipation of my second clumsy fall in one day. When I didn’t land on the floor as expected, I opened one cautious eye and then the other, realizing I was leaned back, securely cradled in someone’s arms.
 

Gavyn looked down at me with regret in his eyes. “You looked like you needed a partner, and I love this song. Didn’t think you would mind the company.” He smiled apologetically and stood me upright. “Sorry if I scared you. I shouldn’t have imposed like that.” He paused for a moment before picking up the fallen chairs and placing them back on the table.

“People just don’t usually get so close to me. I thought I was alone.” I shook my head, suddenly embarrassed. I reached for the broom and gathered the dispersed dirt back into a pile. I couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. “I’m almost done here.”

Gavyn gently laid his hand on my forearm and moved closer. “Hey, I didn’t get my dance,” he cooed in my ear.
 

I smiled and held the broom up as a barrier between us, careful not to make eye contact, “I’ve got work to do, maybe another time.”
 

He exhaled a breath of disappointment. “Rain check then,” he promised in a soft tone, then turned and walked back toward the kitchen.

George emerged from the employee bathroom and appeared in the dining area just as I scooped the last bits of food and dirt into one large pile. “Nevaeh, the water is still hot and the towels are real soft.” He grabbed the dustpan from a nearby stool and held it against the floor next to the mound. “Just don’t be upset, there ain’t any of that lavender junk,” he chuckled.
 

“I’ll be happy to get a second shower in one day, lavender junk or not.”
 

CHAPTER THREE

An Eye Opening Experience

Walking into the bathroom, I took in a deep breath and inhaled the humidity from the fog still floating in the room. I placed a folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on the closed lid of the toilet, and then smoothed my hands over the fabric to push the wrinkles out. I slid my dress off and let it gather into a black puddle at my feet. Sitting on the edge of the cold tub, I reached down to unfasten the buckles of my shoes.
 

My thoughts turned to the incident with Gavyn. Surely, he didn’t mean anything by it, but what was he thinking touching me? I hoped he wasn’t one of those employers that assumed it was okay to ignore personal boundaries.
 

No, I couldn’t see him being a creep like that
.
 

My tired, bare feet praised the soft rug cushioning them, and I mentally shook off the thing with Gavyn. I walked to the mirror and wiped my palm across its misted surface. Reaching back, I tugged on the ribbon holding the mess of hair that hadn’t escaped throughout the day. I combed my fingers through the loose braid, my curls releasing in a veil around my face.
 

Leaning over the sink for a closer view, I examined the fatigue induced circles under my eyes. I rubbed my hands over my sleepy face, hoping to rid my skin of the day’s tension. Thankfully, my skin was still supple and, once in a while, I still saw a sparkle in my violet-blue eyes. The streets had not taken all of my youth yet.

I returned to the tub behind me, spun the knob, and waited for the water gushing out of the faucet to raise to an acceptable level. A shiver crawled over my body as I submerged one leg, then the other, and sat down in the bath. I leaned back into one curved end of the tub, holding my toes under the spray of water on the other end. The smooth porcelain consoled my aching muscles while steam rising up from the water relaxed the tension. When my shoulders were engulfed in warm fluid, I turned the water off.

There was a small window to my left. I pulled back a corner of the red tweed curtains to gaze up into the sky. The city lights outshined the stars, making it hard to see the beauty of the celestial orbs.

A chill radiated through the aged, single-pane glass and puckered my naked skin. I let go of the curtain and settled my hand on the side of the tub. The silence was wonderful. No rumbling trucks, no drunken yelling, and no worries about safety. My eyes grew heavy and closed.
 

Soon after, the atmosphere changed. It felt charged, like static hanging in the air. A dull vibration traveled through my limbs, and a comfortable heat flooded me. My body tightened. I ignored the strange sensation, convinced I was just tired. Rolling my shoulders, I forced the tension in my muscles to loosen once again, and the peculiar vibe retreated.
 

“You need to relax, that’s all,” I whispered to myself.
 

A sudden echo of fluttering bounced off the bathroom walls, too loud and vivid for me to ignore. I bolted upright, forcing water to slosh out of the tub and onto the floor. My eyes darted from one corner to another, searching for the source of the noise.
 

My stomach rolled, panicking over the instant change in the air.

I climbed out of the warm water and forced myself to stay calm. Each step was slow and cautious as I listened for signs of movement outside my door.
 

Nothing.
 

The fluttering stopped.
 

Could there be a bird stuck inside?
 

The sound was too heavy and forceful, though.
 

I tiptoed toward the door, grabbed the towel from the hook on the wall, and wrapped it around me.
 

“Stay,” a foreign voice whispered from inside my head when I reached for the doorknob.
 

Stunned by the inner voice, I froze just before opening the door. I spun on the balls of my feet and scanned over the empty room again. My fear was replaced with curiosity.
 

Suddenly, my vision went black. Images began flashing urgently in my mind like a neon sign flickering on and off in the dark. It distracted me from any ability to think. I whimpered and frantically reached for anything familiar: the sink, the tub, the toilet. My pile of clothes slid to the floor as my hands grabbed for something that would act as my anchor. I strained to see a glimpse of my reality beyond the frenzied pictures taking over my head.

Finally, I steadied myself against the wall. I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to regain my sight, but all I could see were flashing jumbles of snapshots I couldn’t make sense of. I clutched the cold sink, leaning my pelvis against the edge to keep myself standing, and begged the pictures to go away.
 

My skin tingled. An overwhelming ecstasy flushed out the rising fear. I’d never experienced anything so compelling. I wanted more, yet it was too much to handle. Swells of happiness, freedom, and sensuality undulated into me like an ocean quenching its shore.
 

My useless eyes rolled back in my head. My body trembled. I moaned uncontrollably as the invisible essence overpowered me. I was in the presence of an entity greater than myself. Something of royalty, of power. It demanded respect, and I wanted to make it happy.
 

The urge to bow down and writhe in the beauty of these emotions threatened to drop me to the ground, but the presence held me in place. A gentle pressure kept me lifted from behind. It embraced me, firm and careful.
 

I wanted to let my head slump back, but the invisible force cradled it. Darkness and flickering images continued to blind me. A sweet scent, similar to honey and roses, filled my nostrils, pulling me into something of a drug-induced trance. Even though I’d lost control of my senses, my nerves grew calm. My trembling body stilled.

The pressure controlling my body guided my hand to the mirror. My finger shot out and touched the foggy glass, moving to write a message in the dampness. I was being used as a tool, but the lazy dipping and rising of my arm felt like I was composing a symphony.

I pressed my head backward into the pressure, needing to get closer. The barest hint of lips brushing over my skin sent shivers through my limp body. A lovely whisper echoed in my ear, speaking to my soul, tiny vibrations kissing my earlobe as it spoke. What I heard was beyond my comprehension, though. A language made of sound—not words—blended in beautiful harmony. I tried to tell the voice I didn’t understand, but I couldn’t force the syllables from my mouth, only a drunken slur.
 

In an instant, the pressure lightened. The air grew colder.
 

My sight returned to normal, but
I
wasn’t back to normal.
 

The sorrow of everyday life drove back into my heart like a runaway train. I ached for the escape, the heaven, I had just experienced. I didn’t understand the pain of human life until I was without it. The sadness inside begged for relief once again as I fell to my knees and sobbed, yearning for the phantom to hold me in its clutch forever.
 

“Nevaeh, don’t cry. See,” a deep, rich voice spoke.

Shaken, I looked up. Sloppy letters spread across the mirror. It didn’t look like my handwriting, but it
was
my finger that scrawled the letters. I examined my finger for evidence. Moisture still gathered at the tip.
 

I don’t understand what’s going on. This is crazy.
 

Stretching out of my ball of self-pity on the floor, I stood and read the watery words running down the glass.
 

OPEN YOUR EYES.