Invisible (19 page)

“No, Doctor, not for you. We busy, but not too busy. Only on Friday and Saturday are we too busy. Sunday, all the tourists already go home.”

We follow Rosa to a corner table near the window. Once we're seated, Rosa leans in close to Miles. “I tell Ellyn you here.”

He smiles. “Thank you, Rosa.”

When I called and told Miles I'd like to try eating together again, I also told him I'd like to go to Ellyn's again too, if that was okay. “I know her and I like it there. It feels sort of safe, you know?” I doubted he would mind.

I was right.

I look at the menu. “Hey, look! Ellyn added one of the vegan recipes we talked about a few days ago.”

“Great. I'll try it. What about you?”

I pretend to read the rest of the menu. “Maybe.”

“Twila, we're not here just to eat. I'm here to listen too.”

I look back at him. “Yeah. Thanks. It's just . . . like, hard.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “After I said I'd do this, it . . . triggered Ed, my eating disorder, again.” I close the menu. “It's like, I'm getting better, but then sometimes I'm not. But I saw my counselor and we talked about it.”

“Was that helpful?”

“Sort of.”

He nods.

I see Ellyn come out of the kitchen and look over at us. She starts to come our way, but then she stops. Miles has his back to her so he can't see her. I wave her over and she starts our way again.

“Hi, I don't want to interrupt.”

“You're not. We wanted to see you.”

Miles stands up and puts his arm around Ellyn's shoulders and gives her a squeeze—just like he does with me. Then he stands back and smiles at her. “How are things in the kitchen?”

“They're good.”

“It smells great, as always.”

“Thanks. You two are a nice surprise.” Ellyn looks at me. “Did you notice the new vegan dish on the menu?”

I nod. “Yeah, you did it.”

“With your help, girly. It's necessary in this area, I realize. Even Patterson's Pub has a veggie burger on their menu.”

I nod.

“So, honey, are you . . . okay here?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. I'll probably order the new dish, but . . . you know, I might take it home and eat it.”

“You do whatever's best for you.”

Ellyn turns back to Miles. “And how are you?”

“No complaints. I have a lovely dinner companion and one of the area's best chefs in the kitchen.”

Ellyn smiles at him and I see something in the way she looks at him that's different than the way she looks at other people.

“I need to get back to the kitchen.” She bends down and gives me a hug and then smiles again at Miles before going back to work.

Miles sits back down after watching her walk away.

“So, you really like her, right?”

Miles looks toward the kitchen again and then he runs his hand through his hair. “Well, gal . . . yes, I really like her.”

“She's pretty likeable.”

After the waiter brings
our meals, Miles looks at me and holds out his hand across the table. “Let me pray over this.”

I hesitate, but then I reach out and take his hand.

“Heavenly Father, I thank You for the gift of the food that sustains us. Thank You for Your presence at the table with us. Lord, I also thank You for Twila and her heart for You. May Your will be done here as it is in heaven. In Jesus' name I pray, amen.”

I bowed my head while he prayed, and when he's done I open my eyes but keep my head down.

“Twila?”

I nod without looking up. “I . . . I wish . . .” I take a deep breath and then wipe my eyes with my napkin. “I wish my . . . dad . . . loved God. Like, you know . . . the way . . . you do.” I glance up at Miles and then look back down.

“Gal . . .”

I look up again.

“I'm sorry for what you've gone through with your dad. Your mom has shared some of it. I know I can never replace him, but I want you to know that I'm here for you—for whatever you need.”

I wipe my eyes again. And again.

“I care about you, Twila.”

I nod. That's all I can do. I wipe my eyes yet again. “Um . . .” I stand up. “I'm going . . .” I point toward the restroom. I walk across the café with my head down and go into the restroom and then into a stall. I can't stop the tears. I mean, I really can't stop them. I stand in the stall with the door closed. I pull paper from the roll and wipe my eyes and blow my nose. And I cry some more.

The emotions come . . . things I haven't let myself feel. Feelings I've starved. The feelings Ed helped me avoid. The emptiness is huge and black and aches, but like, now . . .

It aches to be filled.

For the first time ever . . . I get that. Instead of starving it, I can . . . risk . . .
filling
it. Like, with food, but also with love.

God's
love.

His love through the people who are in my life—my mom, Miles, Ellyn.

They don't replace my dad, but I'm beginning to understand that God . . . well, He's enough.

More than enough.

And that makes me cry even more.

The house of my soul is too small for You to come to it. May it be enlarged by You. It is in ruins: restore it.

Saint Augustine

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ellyn

“Ellyn. Ellyn!”

I look up from the sauce I'm stirring and see Miles standing just inside the swinging doors of the kitchen. The look on his face tells me something's wrong.

“Paco, come finish this.”

Paco looks from me to Miles and then takes the spoon from me. “Go, Bella, whatever it is. I can handle things here.”

I untie my apron and go to where Miles is waiting. “What's wrong?”

“It's Twila. She's upset. She left the table crying and went to the ladies' room. Will you check on her?”

I put my hand on Miles's arm. “Oh, of course.” Before I turn to go, I see the creases in his forehead and the concern in his blue eyes. “She'll be okay, Miles. She will.” I head out of the kitchen and to the restroom.
Oh Lord, comfort Twila and give me wisdom. And let there be no one else in the restroom.

I push open the door and then look under the doors of the two stalls. In the second stall, I recognize Twila's khaki cargo pants. Once I coax her out, I see the pain in her expression and the tears on her cheeks. The black tattooed thorns glisten.

“Oh, honey . . .” I put my arms around her and pull her close. It's the only thing I know to do. At first she stiffens, but then her body goes limp against mine and she rests her head on my shoulder.

“It's okay, just let it out. Let it out, honey.” As she wets my chef's coat with her tears, my heart breaks for her. I hear the restroom door open behind me and I turn my head toward the door. “Occupied! Use the men's room.”

I hold Twila tight until she stills. Then I pull back from her and push long strands of her dark hair away from her face. “Hold on . . .” I go back into the stall and get toilet paper for her to wipe her nose and eyes on.

She dabs at her eyes, blows her nose, and hiccups. “I'm . . . sorry.”

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Can you tell me what's going on?”

“It's . . . it's Miles. And my dad. It's . . . grief. My counselor said spending time with Miles might stir up some grief, you know?”

I hug her again and then I step back and look at her. “Twila, you're the strongest, most courageous young woman I know.”

She looks down at the floor, and I sense she can't take in what I say. I reach out and put my hand under her chin and lift it so she has to look at me again. “I mean that. Even knowing what kind of feelings Miles might stir up in you, you still met with him.”

“I . . . I needed to work through this. Like, I had to. Even though this is hard, there's hope too. I mean, I'm understanding new things, you know? I get now how God provides for me through other people and how much He loves me.”

Twila's insight silences me for a moment. “You're amazing. Really.” I take the used paper from her and put it in the trash. “Oh, look, I could have handed you tissue.” I point to the box of tissue on the granite countertop in the restroom. “Oops, sorry.”

She smiles for the first time since I came in the restroom. “Whatever.”

We both stand at the sinks and wash our hands, and Twila wets a paper towel and presses it against her eyes.

“So now what? Do you want me to take you home, or are you okay to go with Miles?”

She looks at her feet again.

“Honey, is your mom home?”

She shakes her head. “No, she left today for a conference in Santa Rosa.”

“Oh.”

“It's okay. I'll be okay.”

“You're okay alone?”

She shrugs.

“What about my guest room? Maybe, for my sake, you could spend the night at my place so I know you're all right?”

She looks up and her eyes meet mine. “Really?”

“Really. Do you feel okay having Miles drive you over there?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I'll give you my key, you can go by your house and get a few things, and then go to my house. I don't know what Miles has planned, but if you'd rather not be alone, maybe he can stay there with you until I get home.”

“Okay.”

“I'll be here a few more hours, but you can get settled. The sheets on the bed are clean and there are towels and things in the guest bath.”

She sighs. “Thanks, Ellyn.”

I wave off her thanks. I can't explain it, but I feel as though this is more a favor to me than it is to her.

It's near 11:00 p.m.
by the time I close up the kitchen and café. As I get in my car, my phone dings, indicating I have a text. I pull the phone from my purse.

I stayed with T. Front door unlocked. Didn't want to startle you.

I smile at the text from Miles, but the smile doesn't last long.

Twila's courage—her willingness to face and work through something that causes her such pain—unnerves me. She's half my age and twice as mature. I reach for the bag of croissants on the passenger seat that I brought to send home with Miles. I need one. I pull one of the fresh rolls out of the bag, lift it to my mouth, and then remember—

This foray into veganism might do me in! The buttery scent of the roll makes my mouth water. What difference would just one make?

Yeah, you'll fail anyway. It's just a matter of time.

I lift the croissant back to my mouth, but . . .

Oh Lord, I want it so much. Help me.

Almost shaking with desire, I put the croissant back into the bag. I step on the accelerator and speed through the sleepy streets toward home. When I pull into the driveway and turn off the engine, I reach into my purse for a breath mint. The beauty of living alone is that you don't have to worry about this kind of thing. Who needs to come home after a long night worried about how fresh their breath is? Not me, that's for sure.

I reach for the bag of croissants and still think about having one before bed.

You'll never change.

The downstairs lights are on inside, making the house glow with warmth. The upstairs is dark. Gravel crunches under my feet as I make my way from the driveway to the stone walkway leading to the front door. Once there, I stand on the threshold, take a deep breath, and open the door.

Miles waits inside somewhere.

All is quiet. I see Miles, his long legs stretched out in front of him, sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs in my living room. His head is tilted back, his eyes closed. It seems he fell asleep between the time he sent his text and the few minutes it took me to get home.

I stand still and watch him. He looks vulnerable. Tenderness rises in me. I want to go over and cover him with a blanket, brush his hair off his forehead, and kiss the furrows in his brow.

All of which surprises me . . . but not in an unpleasant way.

What I
don't
want is to get caught watching him.

“Hey . . .” I close the front door with a bang and see him jump. “I'm here.”

Duh, big girl.

Miles gives me a slow, sleepy smile. “Hi. How—” He covers his mouth and yawns. “Sorry. How was the rest of your evening?”

I put on a bright face. “More interesting than yours, from the looks of it.”

He sits up and puts his hands on his knees. “Mine was quiet—after dinner, that is.”

“Is she okay?” I point to the stairs.

He stands up and stretches. “She is. She's a brave one.”

“I know. I told her that.” I cross the living room and set the bag of croissants and my purse on the dining room table. “So she talked to you?”

He nods. “She shared some of what she's learning and how I fit into the picture of her life—not as a replacement for her dad, but as ‘God's provision,' she said. We began a good dialogue. One I pray will continue. I raised sons. Girls are . . .” He shakes his head and smiles. “Girls are a different world. But nice.”