Leaving the Comfort Cafe (18 page)

“If I could just talk to her. We want her to come home. Chas misses her so bad. Did she tell you about Chas?”

“Yeah, a little. She didn’t go into details or anything.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s talking about it to somebody. We kept encouraging her to get help, but she never would. It kind of worried me. After that happened to Chas, then everything, Cornell, whatever, seemed to just fade away. Then I think for a while, she forgot it even existed in the first place. You know she had a full scholarship? She had a freakin’ full scholarship. Last thing we know, she’s packing up, and then we learn she’s never registered for classes. We get this stupid postcard, it’s got San Diego on it, but it’s postmarked in Charlotte, that tells us not to worry about her and she won’t trouble us anymore.”

“Did you call the police?”

“She kept moving around. By the time we had an idea of where she was, she was over eighteen, and nothing we could do about it. If she didn’t want to come home, we couldn’t make her. The cops say some missing persons are only missing because they don’t want to be found. I had a suspicion she was somewhere near Raleigh, then I ran into that guy at the conference and…”

With a smooth motion of his arm, Nate reached into his wallet and pulled out a photo of a bright-eyed child with blonde hair. On his left cheek there was a circular scar that spread out with ragged edges, springing up in small branches around the edge of his eye, like a bizarre crown of thorns etched into his face.

“We want Blythe to know she’s forgiven. We love her. We need her. Come home. Just tell her to come home,” Nate said. “Chas needs her.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Well, you know kids. You can’t explain to them why all kinds of horrible shit happens in this world. Sometimes tragic accidents occur, and you can’t do anything about it. We’ve been through the anger and the grief, but it does nothing but make you exhausted and frustrated. You can’t explain this type of stuff to kids…you see, he thinks Blythe left, not because she felt bad, but because she didn’t want to be around him anymore because he’s ugly. You can’t explain guilt and angst to kids. Hell, you can’t explain guilt and angst to adults.”

“So, she can’t forgive herself…”

“And if Chas weren’t involved, I’d say fine, let her punish herself. You can’t force-feed grace down someone’s throat. But Chas’ shrink, well, thinks that maybe if he got reconnected with Blythe, it would help.”

“He’s seeing a psychologist?”

“Everyone’s seeing a shrink anymore, except those who really need it.”

The eggs and hash browns arrived. Austin picked at the plate with his fork. “What can I do?”

“Give her the message.”

“What else can I do?”

“Well, I would say, you could sling her over your shoulder and haul her ass to Asheville, but you and I both know that’s crazy. She’s got to make that decision herself.”

Nate rose from the table.

“I’ll be sure to tell her.” Austin rose and shook Nate’s hand.

“One last thing…tell her this is it. This is her last chance to come home. Amnesty, all debts cleared, what have you. But this offer expires at the end of the year. We’ve got to move on, and Chas has to move on. I don’t want him growing up and then Blythe suddenly appearing out of the blue when it’s most convenient for her. I don’t want this hanging over us. Now, mom and dad, they’ll take her back any time. That’s what parents do. But my wife and I, we’ve got to place an expiration date. That’s more a matter for us than for Blythe. You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean.” Austin wondered when Kerry set his expiration date.

Austin motioned for the waitress to pack up his eggs and hash browns to go. He checked his Palm Pilot for what he could possibly delay in his schedule.

She would go back to Asheville. She had to.

Nate went to the door, causing the bell above the entrance to make an awkward “ding!”

Blythe edged out of the kitchen once she sensed Nate was gone.

“What did he say?” she said, walking toward the booth where Austin sat.

“Would you listen if I told you?”

“Maybe not right now.”

“Well then, let’s just wait until you’re ready. But Chas needs you, Blythe.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m afraid I need him even more.”

Then suddenly, Nate burst back into the diner, grabbed Blythe and hugged her. As her hands rested on his shoulder, they started to shake.

“I can’t.” Blythe pushed him away. “I can’t talk about this right now.”

“Well, please talk about it to someone. If you won’t listen to me, listen to your boyfriend over there.”

Blythe seemed surprised Nate used the term “boyfriend.”

He handed Blythe an envelope. “Here’s enough money for a plane ticket back to Asheville. Any time you’re ready. Call me. Call my cell. Page me. I’ll come get you. Chas and I will come get you. We’ll all meet you at the baggage claim. All of us. Just come home again. Please.”

Blythe’s eyes started to well up into big watery sun drops of dew. She pulled away and Nate thrust the envelope into her apron pocket. Blythe darted back through the kitchen, undoubtedly out back to cry.

Nate nodded to Austin, as if to say, “she’s in your hands now.”

Austin was determined not to disappoint him.

****

Austin was the first to admit he had no idea Blythe was going to make a big deal out of dinner. She got off work early, obviously spinning some tale to Grandma about how Nate was really an ex-boyfriend who couldn’t let go. Austin, with Nate’s request fresh on his mind, suggested a quiet evening in, ordering pizza or take-out Chinese and just hanging around her apartment. It was a stressful day; best to keep things simple.

She adamantly refused, stating real Southern women do not eat take-out. And if she was anything, she was a true Southern woman, complete with the mint julep and wide-brim straw hat. She was going to fix him a traditional Southern dinner with all the trimmings. He wasn’t sure, but he thought there was a slight hesitancy in her voice, the same unsteadiness he had seen when she dropped her coffee carafe at the restaurant.

When he arrived, she greeted him at the door with a host of Southern delicacies, including fried chicken she swore she made herself, but Austin found tasted suspiciously like Kentucky Fried Chicken. The trimmings she spoke of were small, Styrofoam cups of okra, collard greens and sweet potatoes, which he suspected were leftover from the café. She also had a small package of Tic Tacs on the table, but Austin wasn’t sure whether or not they were related to the dinner venture.

Austin decided not to say anything during dinner. But the food stuck to his throat and made him choke. It was getting harder and harder not to say anything. Now Austin realized he had gone his entire life without saying anything. Time to speak up.

“Nate looks really good,” Austin said. “Especially considering he’s died about eleven times.”

“That was not my brother.” Blythe shook a long, manicured finger at him.

“Then who was it?”

“It was…Frank. Frank’s my ex-boyfriend. Been in the Navy. Off at sea, no women around, all that junk, and he just expected me to be waiting for him at the base while he probably had a girl in every port and was making out with some French floozy.”

“Then why did he tell me he was your brother?”

“Stalking.” Blythe spoke faster, as if by speeding up she could keep the fantasy alive. “I threatened to take out a restraining order against him.” She briskly gathered the food scraps to the trash bin and put the Tic Tacs back in her pocket before Austin had a chance to take one. “That’s all Frank does, just follows me around.”

“I thought you said he was out to sea all the time.”

“Well, he is…”

“And he chases you down in his spare time?”

“That’s it,” she said.

“When he’s not on active duty, which is about all the time.”

“Do you have a point?” Blythe glared at him, a hand on her hip.

“Why did you leave Asheville?”

The words hung in midair for a long time, circling and buzzing like rabid mosquitoes looking for a host.

“You’ve obviously never been to Asheville.” She started straightening up the kitchen, though there was nothing there to be straightened. She dutifully wiped a hand towel across the counter, which was already perfectly clean.

“No.” Austin held her tightly in his stare. “I’ve never been to Asheville. Tell me about it.”

“Oh, it’s just…hippies, hippies, hippies. Everywhere you go. Hippies and Bible beaters. The self-righteous and the self-centered. The worst of both worlds. Bible folks say you’re going to hell. Hippies are always trying to sell you pot.”

Her eyes met his. His gaze held hers. And, for the first time, Blythe blinked.

“Chas will probably need more plastic surgery,” Austin said. “I think it would be good if you went back to see him. Charles thinks you left because he’s ugly.”

The last sentence went a step too far. Her knees started to shake. The room seemed to become suddenly hot and humid and uncomfortably sticky. Austin rose to her side and helped her steady herself. Her walk had no rhythm. Were it not for Austin, she would have tumbled in a crumpled mass on the kitchen floor.

“Easy now.” Austin guided her to the couch. “It’s been a big day. But it’s going to destroy you if you don’t tell someone.”

“So, I should just find some shrink and—”

“No. Tell me. Just me.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” she said, facing him as hot tears started to well in the corner of her eyes.

“I think you are someone who, like everyone else in this world, has problems, has baggage, and needs grace. Look. This isn’t about you or me, but about some kid who needs you. You have to go back to Asheville.”

“Stop it!” She screamed the words with a force Austin had never heard her exercise before, even on the most obstinate Conyers residents. “Just stop it, stop it, stop it! Isn’t it enough I gave up Cornell? Isn’t it enough that I have to stay in this stupid town doing a stupid job? Haven’t I punished myself more than anyone else ever could have?” Her lips quivered as she started to weep silently. Instinctively, he came toward her, but she pushed him away with arms that seemed to sag from some huge weight they had been carrying.

“What happened in Asheville?” Austin wanted to hold her hand. “The past is painful for everyone, Blythe,” he said. “That’s why they call it the past. You know you have to do this.”

She raised her gaze and looked up toward the ceiling at some distant point Austin couldn’t describe. “Give me some time,” she sighed. “I need you to just give me a little time.”

“Okay. Take all the time you need.”

She turned away from him. “I’ll need some time alone.”

“Okay,” Austin said as he walked toward the door. “Just remember, I’m ready to listen whenever you’re willing to let me in.”

Call it a psychic connection, call it coincidence, or just call it a case of God having a sense of humor, but when Austin went to work the next week, he received a call from the 212 area code.

“Austin?” She sounded far away—she was far away—but Kerry sounded like she was calling from the moon instead of Manhattan.

“Oh my gosh. Kerry!” His eyes wandered to the picture of them on his desk. It was a picture he knew Blythe had noticed but never asked him to remove. He never knew why. Blythe knew she was there, probably in the same sense that she knew the Great Wall of China was there. She took it at face value. Never doubted, but then, didn’t particularly want to hear about the experience.

“Someone hasn’t checked his e-mail in a while.” She laughed.

“Afraid so. Just with the town and all.”

“I know, I know. I heard you went to the alumni bash.”

Luke, undoubtedly. “Yeah, we uh, Luke and I wished you could be there.”

“Yeah, he told me all about it. You must have had a great time.”

“So, what’s up with you?” Why was she calling? Drop out of my life and now she calls when she has nothing better to do?

“Well, I wanted to drop you a call and let you know I’m swinging by next week.”

“Swinging by?”

“Yeah. I hear there’s this neat little art gallery in Charleston. I’m going to check out the arts scene down there. Go around to all the galleries, check out the work and, well, to be honest, I could use a break from the city.”

A break from the city?

“Too much noise?” Austin asked. He hated himself the minute after he said it.

“To be honest, a little too much everything. I want to do some painting, too. Coastlines, you know. The problem with good art is that it doesn’t exactly match someone’s dining room set. Better to stick with coastlines, lighthouses, crap like that. It’s junk, I know, but it sells.”

“Matching dining room sets? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I just haven’t quite sounded like myself a lot lately.”

“Okay.” Something was on her mind, but like crops, it took time to harvest. It would have to bloom and wither several times before making truth of the matter.

“I’d love to see you. I’d love for you to come with me. You must have some vacation time built up.”

“Well…”

“I’m going to fly into Raleigh-Durham late Tuesday night. Early morning, really, I’m afraid. Cheaper fares, you know, then I’ll just rent a car and head over to whatever the name of your town is.”

“Conyers,” he said. “And don’t worry about renting a car. I’ll pick you up.”

Did I just say that? What would Blythe think? You can’t bring Kerry into this. You can’t leave Kerry at the airport. You know she probably can’t afford to rent a car on top of airfare and…

“You sure? I’ll be glad to rent a car.”

“I’m sure.”

Am I sure?

“What was the name of the town you were in again?”

“Conyers.”

Kerry paused. “Didn’t someone see the Virgin Mary, or didn’t a miracle happen there a couple of years back?”

“Yes,” Austin said. “Yes, it did.”

It was easier than explaining.

Austin had hoped that a dose of the raspberry pie at the Comfort Café would give him the courage he needed to tell Blythe about the call. He didn’t want to leave Blythe, but he didn’t want to live his life in the shadow of possibility either, held captive by the two ugliest words in the English language: “what if?”