Duties to the Dead
an excerpt

It had been unusually quiet in the coffee shop that night. The few customers we had seated weren't being their caffeine-buzzed selves. It seemed we were all waiting for something to break the silence. That's when he walked in
My hand stopped in the middle of wiping down the serving counter. I caught his eye as he walked up the ordering station, and he looked me in the eye. I shifted my weight on my feet towards him, and held my breath. Those eyes... those gorgeous, tempting eyes. They weren't the same as when he left – the wildness was gone – but the ability to excite every cell of my body was still there. Twelve years later, and it felt liked we were back in high school. But we weren't.
“Is Frank here?” His voice broke the quietness of the coffee shop, and I almost jumped out of my skin. It was barely audible, and would have been lost in normal hubbub, but tonight it was as though he screamed at top of his lungs, like those bands that Jason and I had liked back in the day.
I couldn't answer him. The words stuck in my throat, and I nodded as a replacement, trying to not strangle him. I strode off to the back room, and forced myself to keep walking. I was so determined, I almost smacked right into Frank, who was restocking the bulk coffees with the new shipment.
“Woah, Dawn, slow down. Your shift isn't over for a couple of hours.”
All the moisture in my mouth shot straight to my eyes, and I struggled to gather the words. “He's...”
“Who's here? Zed? He starts work when you're done.”
I shook my head violently, and tried again, and this time succeeded. “Jay.”
The color drained from his cheeks, and his gentle smile faded like a rose on a hot summer's day under a blistering sun. “He's back.”
It wasn't a question, it was a fact, and one he was not happy about. Frank pushed past me and flew through the doors. I nearly collapsed from the brush of his shoulder against mine, and staggered to the doorway. I couldn't bring myself to go back out there, but I could hear the words vividly. Frank was making no bones about staying low- key. After all, he owned the shop, and there were few customers to disturb. Those that were, were listening to their iPods, dozing from the caffeine wearing off, or didn't give a whit in the first place.
“What are you doing here?” Frank accused.
“Dad invited me back.”
“Why the hell would he do that?”
A lengthy pause. I could almost imagine the stare down between the brothers, and I shuddered. Sea-water blue eyes versus murky lagoon eyes locked in a perpetual staring contest. Jay lost. “You haven't changed at all.”
“And you have? Coming to be the prodigal son, making amends and stealing everything I've worked for? Well, I'm not going to let you.”
“I'm not here to steal anything. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be back here.” Jay's voice was even and soothing. I told myself not to fall for it again. Instead, I twisted the ring on my finger. He had to have seen it; the diamond was almost a carat and a half.
“Then take your sorry self back to the city where you came from!”
A blanket of shame and fury permeated the shop. Jay didn't even bother to shake it off. The footsteps echoed across the floor, steady and calm, and the door tinkled with sleigh bells on the door as it opened. I winced, waiting for the door to slam. It never did.
I breathed a sigh of relief. The panic was gone. I could relax now...
A glass shattered on the floor in the coffee shop, and I lost it completely. The shame, the pain, and the loneliness from all the years he had been gone came rushing back in a flood of psychedelic colors and swirls. The talent show... the fire... the funeral... finding out I was pregnant... and him leaving without ever saying good bye.
The rest of high school I had begged him to come back in my mind. Three years later, I gave up. That's when Peter stepped in, and I finally loved someone other than Jana, and my wounds started to heal. It took until Jana started to call him Daddy for me to break down and admit that Pete was the one for me. I never had regretted marrying him, and I never looked back.
Until tonight.
The tears flowed like a smooth Guatemala blend for a long time, and the pain after they stopped felt just as bitter. I struggled to my feet, and wiped away my dripping mascara. I felt my way through the doors and to the front counter. Frank was scrubbing the heck out of it.
“When did he leave?” My voice was hoarse, although I'd said next to nothing since he had walked through the door.
“About five minutes ago.” Monotone, just like he always was after a difficult customer. I'd never heard Frank raise his voice quite like he had during the fight.
“Is he gone?”
Frank looked up at me, and I knew I was a sorry sight. Still skinny as a rail even after two children, and I had to look like crap after crying so long. He turned back to the counter. “Yes.”
“I meant, is he in town still?”
He halted his sweeping hand motions, but didn't turn towards me again.
“Don't lie to me, Franklin. I have to know if I should worry.” I started to shake more in anticipation than fear.
“He went into town.” He resumed scrubbing, like Mr. Miyagi told the Karate Kid – wax on, wax off. Only in the movie, there was no long-lost love come back to ruin the kid's life.
I nodded in response, numb to anything else. It was my worst nightmare come true. Almost.
“Go home, Dawn. I'll take over from here. Business is slowing down.”
I didn't bother to argue with him. The shop was emptying, and I knew Frank needed something to do. Neither of us would sleep for the rest of the night, if not longer. We both had dreaded this day for twelve years, and it was worse knowing that it was here at last. I grabbed my worn leather jacket in the back room, and called Peter on my cell phone.
“Lambert,” he said, obviously woken from a dead sleep.
“Hi, honey. I don't want you to be alarmed but... he's back.”
I could almost see him bolt up in bed, and I cringed at his tone of voice. “Who? Carleton?”
“No, no,” I assured him quickly. It was expected that his mind would go straight to the convicted rapist that he'd chased out of town in the summer. “It's Jay.” I paused. “You know, Jason Hartley.”
A string of curse words. “That son of a... I'll be right there.”
“Don't rush. He's not here.”
“Not any more, but he was, darling. Just sit tight, I'll bring the squad car. Then I'm going out and looking for him.”
As I hung up the back room phone, I wondered how Peter knew these things. Sure he was a cop, and a good one, but sometimes he scared me with his prying and knowing ways. I knew he would never interrogate me like he would a normal suspect, and certainly he would never abused or abandon me, but I sometimes wondered what my life would have been like if Jay had stayed around.
Goose bumps ran up and down my arms as I thought of what my life would have been like with Jason as I waited for my husband.