Chapter One
"Got a new one for ya, Doc." The voice pulled my attention back to the present. I didn't usually zone out so much at work, but I had been given so much to think about this morning, and my attention had been divided all day. I glanced toward the waitress, Kathy, who had interrupted my thinking.
"Stop calling me that Kath," I said, getting to my feet with a sigh. She grinned at me and nodded her head toward the bar section of the restaurant. I looked over, seeing immediately why she wanted me to take care of the new customer.
The restaurant, which had been named Kate's by my parents before they had passed away, was mine now, and I hardly ever left the building anymore. My parents had been quite wealthy, owning five restaurants and a handful of apartment buildings around town. When they had died, leaving me everything, I had sold the other four restaurants. I had kept our house, though I hardly ever went there anymore, preferring to live in one of the apartments on top of the restaurant, and even though I didn't need to work anymore, I did it anyway, because I enjoyed it.
Most of the staff had been working here for years, and they all liked me, for the most part, so it was a nice environment to be in. And the customers loved me. It was always busiest when I was there, and I always got nice tips, which meant that the others working with me liked to have me there too, since I usually split the tips between them, as I didn't need the money. It was easy to make people like me, not that I'm trying to sound conceited or anything. I was just very good with people.
I was born with an eidetic memory. It's sort of like a photographic memory, but I don't only remember images, I remember sounds and feeling too. I never forget anything. It made school and university very easy, and it let me obtain three doctorates in the time it takes most people to achieve one. I had been halfway done with my fourth doctorate when my parents had passed away and I had lost interest in school. The waitresses here liked to call me 'Doc' as a way of making fun of me, but it was in a loving way most of the time. Getting degrees in English, Psychology, and Philosophy gave me an insight to most people's lives and it let my brain make jumps to assume things about people. I was mostly right. My fourth doctorate would have been in Engineering, which was my way of branching out from what I knew absolutely to something I knew only a little, and I had enjoyed it for a while, but I felt closer to my parents working here, and I really did enjoy waitressing. Or maybe I just enjoyed taking care of people.
The customers liked me because I never forgot their names or orders, and some of them liked to talk to me because I was cheaper than a psychologist and I gave sound advice. And sometimes people just liked to have someone to talk to in general, like a friend.
So because I was good at getting people to talk to me, the other waitresses always directed the sad looking people to me. Usually they came specifically to talk to me as most of our customers were regulars, but once in a while we would get a new person, like today.
"He ordered coffee, but I figured I'd leave it to you," Kathy continued in a low voice, nodding to the counter again. I looked him over, taking in his slouched frame, downcast eyes, and the way he ran his hands through his hair every once in a while. He was sad, obviously, but also frustrated, and, judging by the way his eyes flicked to the windows, always in the same direction, maybe a little regretful of something he had done recently. I nodded absently to Kathy and took a moment to make sure my unruly red curls were back in their proper place as they had a habit of escaping, then went to poor him a coffee. I guessed he was having girl problems, since he seemed to be young, maybe a year or so younger then I was, and most boys his age would probably only be that upset over a recent breakup.
"Hey," I said, setting the cup down in front of him and leaning against the register counter across from him. "Girl troubles?"
He glanced up when I spoke and I couldn't help but think that he sort of looked like a sad puppy.
"Yeah, sort of," he said, looking back down.
"Recent breakup?" I guessed, my voice soothing. The place was close to empty now, only three other tables, so I knew I wouldn't be needed for anything. I walked around the counter and took a seat next to him. "Don't worry, it'll get better."
"Yeah, very recent," he said softly, looking into his coffee, then he frowned and looked up. "Do I know you?"
"Nope," I said, grinning. I had turned on my stool so that I leaned back against the counter, facing toward the door. "I'm just good at reading people."
"Oh," he said, not interested enough to stay away from his wallowing for long.
"Want to talk about it?" I asked, watching his face from the corner of my eye.
"I don't even know you," he said, frowning again. I smiled but didn't look towards him.
"Sometimes strangers are the best people to talk to about your problems because we are distanced from the event and can look at it objectively," I said, my eyes following two people walking by the front of the restaurant. It wasn't exactly late, only around eight or so, but the sun had gone down so there were less people out than usual. "Besides, you came here alone instead of going to a friend, which means you don't want to talk to someone you know and the fact that you haven't asked me to leave yet tells me that you don't actually want to be alone."
"You're right," he said after a few seconds, then he sighed. "I guess you learn a lot about people working in a customer service job." I smiled but let him change the subject. He would get around to why he was upset sooner or later.
"Yes, I do," I said, nodding. "And it helps that I studied people in school too."
"Where at?" He asked, sipping his coffee. He seemed to be relaxing a little now, focusing on our conversation instead of his own feelings, which was good, since he looked less sad.
"Harvard," I said, grinning at his slightly surprised look. "I know, how posh of me." He snorted in laughter at that.
"You went to Harvard but you work here?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in question. I shrugged, used to getting those types of comments.
"I like it here," I replied, looking around the building. "Waitressing has always been what I enjoyed doing. School was just for fun."
"You went to Harvard for fun?" He asked, shaking his head a little at the idea. I shrugged again.
"I probably would still be there but… I was needed here," I smiled a little. It had been almost a full year since I had left school. It was a little odd, after nine years of solid classes and tests and studying, to come back here and have my days filled with orders, stocking, and cooking instead.
"Let me guess," he said, and I turned to him with an eyebrow raised this time. "Someone in your family is sick, or passed away, and you came back to help out and now you feel as though you will be abandoning them if you return to school?"
"Half right," I said, grinning. "Did you major in Psychology?"
"At the University of Pennsylvania," he said, nodding.
"It's a very interesting subject," I agreed, turning back to face the door. "What brought you to DC?"
"After I got my doctorates in Psychology I was recruited to the FBI as a consultant," he said.
"Wow, that must be an exciting job," I said, grinning. "Do they let you carry a gun and catch bad guys or do you have to stay in the office?"
"I get to chase bad guys, sometimes," he said, grinning, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back for bringing out a smile at last.
"So tell me about this girl," I said after a couple seconds of silence.
"Her name is Daisy," he began with a sigh. "We were going to move in together today but… she thought that meant a lot more than I did."
"Meant more like marriage?" I asked.
"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I thought moving in was just moving in, but she thought it meant we were going to get married and have kids and stuff," he said, shaking his head a little. "I thought it would be best to call it off now instead of letting her believe that any longer, so I gave her the apartment."
"Well that was nice of you," I said, turning back towards the now completely dark windows. The streetlights lit just enough of the street to see the few people still out walking.
"Not really, I mean, I wasn't going to break up with her and kick her out," he said.
"No, I meant the not leading her on part," I said. "Not a lot of people think far enough ahead in relationships to anticipate problems like that. And even fewer people are willing to point it out once they realize it."
"I guess," he mumbled, and we were silent for another few seconds. I got up to refill his nearly empty coffee cup, and when I came back I set a plain metal key next to it. He looked up questioningly.
"If you go left out these doors and take the first staircase up along this building to the third floor, number 302 is empty, you can stay there till you find somewhere else to live, free of charge," I said, resisting a smile at his look, which plainly said he thought I was crazy.
"Um, what?" He asked, his voice confused.
"You just gave your apartment to your girlfriend right?" He nodded. "Which means you don't have a place to live. You can stay there. It's fully furnished and no one else is living there right now. It's not a very big place, but it's pretty nice."
"I'm sorry," he began, his voice a little slow as though he was still not understanding. "You're a waitress who just gives random strangers access to an apartment for no reason?"
"Oh, that's right. My name is Kate. Kaitlin James. I own this building, and the restaurant. What's your name?" I asked, smiling now.
"Lance Sweets," he replied, his voice still distracted.
"Well there you go, now we aren't strangers," I said, grinning. "And its not for no reason, you need a place to stay and I happen to have one. That's a good enough reason to give you a key."
"Do you give everyone who comes in here an apartment for free?" Lance asked, shaking his head as though trying to understand something else now.
"Nope, you would be the first," I said, shrugging. "Well actually, I did give one of the waitresses a place last year for a few weeks when her house was being fumigated."
"You don't make any sense," he said at last. "You don't know anything about me."
"Sure I do," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You have a doctorates in Psychology from the University of Pennsylvania, which means you are smart and you have a good understanding of people. You work for the FBI, which means you probably aren't a criminal or a murderer. You are considering taking my apartment, which I can tell because you haven't given the key back yet," I nodded to his hand where he had been idly playing with the key. "Which means you either don't have any family nearby or you don't get along with your family. I'm guessing the former since you seem to be mild tempered and calmer people usually get along better with their families. "You don't seem to have a defensive personality, which tells me you are probably an only child, or there is a large age gap between you and the next child. You're left handed, you aren't vindictive or mean, and you like coffee." I paused to draw a breath, but I didn't really have anything else to add so I let it out again. "Are you hungry?" I asked instead. "We have a really good chicken burger."
"Um, what?" He asked for the second time, and I grinned. "Yeah actually, I am hungry. You got all of that from talking to me for ten minutes?"
"You've been here for half an hour, Hun," I said, chuckling. "But yes, I said I was good at reading people. I also have a doctorate in Psychology." I wrote a note on my order pad and put it on the wheel for the cooks to get, then turned back to him as a middle aged man came in and sat at the other end of the counter.
"So, you want the apartment?" I asked, pulling out another coffee cup to fill for the man.
"Uh, yeah, I guess. But I still don't understand why you would offer that to someone you don't know," he said, frowning. "People aren't nice unless it prophets them."
"Wrong," I said, "But hold that thought." I walked to the other end of the bar with a smile.
"Hi Mr. Johnson," I said, grinning at the man. "How's your daughter? Did she have that baby yet? I know her due date was yesterday."
"Hey Katie," he said, smiling as he accepted the cup. "The baby hasn't come yet, but Ashley's in the hospital now, waiting."
"I bet she's excited," I said, smiling. "You said they think it's a boy right? She's going to have her hands full when he comes along."
"No kidding," Mr. Johnson said, grinning.
"I'll expect you to bring her and the baby in sometime so I can finally meet them," I said. "You want your usual today? We just got our shake machine fixed."
"You are the best, Katie," he said, chuckling as I scribbled his usual order out on my order book for the cook. It only took me a few minutes to make his shake, but by the time I had given it to him, the chicken burger was done for Lance, so I took it and went back to him.
"Do you think that everything happens for a reason?" I asked, sliding the plate in front of him and continuing our previous conversation. He looked up from his phone and frowned in thought. "Not in a religious way or anything, just that there are things that happen, and then something else happens that is completely unconnected to the first thing but somehow, that second thing makes the first thing make sense?"
"I guess," he said. "Like coincidence."
"Sort of," I said, shrugging. "I think that everything happens for a reason, and sometimes we don't figure out that reason. But sometimes we do. The person who lived in 302 moved out two weeks ago with no warning to go live with her family in Florida. Then you come in here, even though you haven't been here before and don't know anyone here, and you need a place to live. Things like that happen to me all the time, and I usually don't question it."
"I see," he said, nodding as he absently ate a fry. I smiled and went back to talk to Mr. Johnson for a few minutes to let Lance think over what I had said. Two more tables came in, and all three of the previously occupied tables left before I went back over to him.
"There aren't enough nice people in the world," I said, startling him a little. "I like to be nice because other people are more likely to do nice things if someone is nice to them first." He nodded, sipping his coffee, which was probably cold by now, but as he had finished eating I didn't refill it. "So you want the apartment?"
"I'll pay rent though," he said, nodding. I grinned.
"Pay next month if you want to stay that long," I said, shrugging. "I'm not making you pay for an apartment you don't like, and it's not like I need it."
"Thank you," he said, sighing.
"Just do me a favor and don't look so sad," I said, grinning again as I took his plate and cup. He was gone before I came back from dropping them off in the sink, money for the meal left in his place.
I didn't make it upstairs until close to one in the morning. Though the restaurant was open 24 hours a day, I rarely stayed that late, and business after midnight was mostly college kids and drunk people, which the people who worked night shift didn't mind, but I preferred middle aged and elderly, sober customers. My apartment was the only occupied one on the second floor, since most people didn't want to live right above an all night restaurant, but it was large since this floor was only split into two apartments, where the third and fourth floors were split into four. Mine was sparsely furnished since I told myself that I still lived at my parents' house. If I moved in here completely it would be like leaving them again. Besides, I only slept here, nothing else really, so it wasn't like I needed a TV. Or a couch. The second bedroom was filled with extra stock for the restaurant, like plates, hand soap, frying pans, and plastic containers. Pretty much everything downstairs had a backup here, which probably went against the health code, but it was better than crowding the back with extra things.
I stared around at the empty place. Maybe I should get a cat to keep here, then it wouldn't feel so cold when I came in. The windows were all open a few inches, letting the warm air of the night in, but it was just cold in a non-physical way. Maybe I should just move some things from the house over. I really should sell the house. Someone should be living in it. Maybe a new family with kids and a dog like I'd had when I was little.
I sighed and shook my head, then went to get ready for bed. The house was something I could think about later.
I didn't see Lance again until three days later when he came into the restaurant for breakfast, looking sadder than ever. It was busy, nearly every table was full, but there were three other waitresses running around too, and the four tables in my section were taken care of for now. I brought him a coffee before he could sit down, and looked him over. He was wearing a suit this time, which I assumed meant he was going to work. He mumbled thanks without looking up, and I sighed.
"Let me guess, you saw Daisy yesterday," I said, leaning against the counter across from him.
"This morning," he said, frowning. "To get my things for work."
"You broke up with her you know," I said, and he scowled up at me for a moment. I shrugged. "Just saying," I said, holding my hands up in submission.
"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "You're a huge help."
"I know," I said brightly, ignoring his tone. "What I meant was, you both have a right to be sad for a while, but you can't focus on that or it'll start seeping into all the other parts of your life too. Like work. Bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns, wheat toast?"
"Uh, sure," he said, offhandedly. He didn't look like he had eaten much in the last few days, and he probably would have stuck with just coffee if I hadn't slipped it in when he was distracted.
"So how do you like the apartment?" I asked, changing the subject.
"That couch is the most comfortable one I've ever sat on," he said, perking up a little.
"I know," I said, smiling. "I got it from an estate sale two years ago. The woman said it was brand new. Is the place big enough for you?"
"It's bigger than you made it out to be. It's actually a good size I think," he said, and I took the opportunity to jot down his breakfast order and put it back for the cooks.
"It's smaller than mine is, so I always just think of it as small," I said, shrugging.
"You live and work here?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Saves on travel costs," I said, smiling. "I don't actually live here, I just have an apartment here for when I stay late at work. My parent's have a house but it's like ten miles from here so it's easier to just stay here."
"And your parents don't mind?" He asked, sipping his coffee.
"They passed away last year," I said, shrugging. "I don't want to get rid of the house, but I don't want to live there either."
"Oh, I understand," he said, and I smiled. He probably did understand, if not from experience then from studying people. I cleared away the dishes from a table and wiped it down to reset it, then brought him his food.
"If there is anything wrong with the apartment let me know, I'm in 201 and I'm always either here or there," I said, trying to keep him talking. If he left for work in a good mood it would mean he had spent that much less time thinking about Daisy. "I don't really have much of a life."
"I usually don't either," he said, giving a half smile. "Not outside work anyway."
"Don't you have any friends?" I asked, my voice soft so it didn't sound like a jab at him.
"A few, but mostly just people I work with," he said, shrugging.
"I'm that way too," I said, smiling. "You should go out for drinks with them tonight."
"What? Why?" He asked, frowning.
"For fun," I said, rolling my eyes. "You can't just stay cooped up in your apartment. You have to socialize. Meet new people. And here doesn't count."
"You literally just said that you don't have friends outside of work and you are always here or at home," he said, quoting my words back to me.
"Yeah, well, I'm not sad," I said, shrugging. He might have responded to that, but his phone rang. I went back to take care of my other tables while he talked.
"Okay, fine, I'll be there in ten minutes," I heard him say as I came back. He had eaten less than half of his food.
"Fifteen minutes," I said loud enough that whoever he was talking to would probably hear. He scowled at me, while the person on the phone talked to him again and I pointed at his food. "You need to eat at least some of that. It's a waste to throw it out." He rolled his eyes but repeated the extended time into the phone and hung up.
"I don't need a mother you know," he said, but he stayed seated and took another bite.
"I'm sure you are all grown up and can take care of yourself and all that jazz, but you still need to eat and it looks like you will wither away if you skip another meal," I said, rolling my eyes at him. He chuckled and continued to eat quickly. As he finished and stood I placed two cups of coffee-to-go in his hands before he could reach for his wallet. "One for you, one for whoever was on the phone. Now get lost."
He grinned and shook his head, but left without complaint.
The rest of the day passed quickly for me, it was busy enough to keep me moving but not so busy that it was overwhelming, even though one of the new girls hadn't shown up for her shift.
I left early in the afternoon but I didn't have any errands to run, so I ended up walking around the block of businesses near my restaurant. It was nice out, almost too warm, but not quite. I spent the time contemplating my house. It really was time to sell it, past time really. I should probably start by going through the things there and deciding what I wanted to keep. I hadn't touched my parents bedroom since I got back from school, it was probably pretty dusty by now and if I waited too much longer it would be too hot out to keep the windows open while I worked. I could always use the furniture to furnish a few of the currently empty apartments. It was much easier to rent out furnished places and there was more than enough furniture in the house.
I could start that tomorrow. It was probably time I take off from working for a while anyway and let the long time waitresses train the two new people. If the other girl showed up. We had called her twice but there was no answer from the phone number she gave us and it seemed like overkill to go to her house. It was only her third day; maybe she had decided to quit. It happened pretty often when new hires realized that customer service could be very stressful at times.
By the time I made it back to the building, my mind was made up. It was time for me to do the reasonable thing and sell the house. It was time I grew up a little and stopped clinging to the way things used to be. It was advice I had given to many people in the last year working as a waitress, and it was time I followed it myself. I would start by moving the things in my spare room into the other empty apartment on my floor. I didn't really anticipate ever having guests over, but having a spare room if needed seemed logical since i already had plenty of furniture.
I left my door open in the hallway as I moved things, and I had music turned up so loud that I didn't notice the presence of another person right away, which meant I jumped a little when I turned around to see Lance standing in my door way.
"I was just heading upstairs when I heard the music," he said when I turned the speakers down. "Interesting taste."
"It was on shuffle," I said defensively. The music was somewhat heavy metal, and I didn't listen to it often but it was very motivating when moving things around I had found.
"Are you moving out?" He asked, glancing around the nearly empty room.
"Nope. Moving in," I said, grinning at his confused look. "I decided this afternoon that I should sell my parents house and fully move in here. I spend most of my time here anyway."
"In an empty apartment?" He asked.
"Yeah, well, it's not like I have people over to entertain," I said shrugging.
"You know, your need to spend so much time working probably stems from-"
"From the need to push away all strong emotions concerning the death of my parents and all that jazz," I interrupted. Usually I was a lot nicer than that, but I had already spent enough time thinking about my parents today, I didn't want to spend any more. "Sorry, thanks for trying to rationalize my behaviors for me."
"Well that's what I do," he said, smiling.
"Don't you get tired of talking about work all the time?" I asked lifting a plastic crate full of ceramic coffee cups.
"Not really," he said, following me into the apartment across the hall. "Most of the people I work with on a daily basis don't like psychology so I rarely get a chance to finish an observation."
"Well then I'm sorry for interrupting you," I said, setting the crate down with a sigh. Ceramic dishes were heavier than they looked when stacked together. "Feel free to make any observations or comments about me that you feel you need to. I'll try not to interrupt again."
"Uh, thanks," he said, following me back to my apartment. "Do you want some help?"
"Don't you have something more interesting to do?" I asked, then frowned to myself. He probably didn't have plans, since recent breakups usually made going out seem unappealing. "Like drinks with your work friends?" I added, remembering that I had said he should.
"Drinks is sort of something they only do when they finish a case," he said shrugging. "Right now they are still working on one and no one was free."
"Okay, you can help me," I said, lifting a crate of plates. "On the condition that in a few hours you will go somewhere with me."
"Where?" He asked, loosening his tie a little and walking into the half emptied spare room.
"Anywhere. Somewhere fun," I said, grinning as he attempted to lift a crate of plates from the stack I was working on and huffed.
"These things are heavy," he grunted, following me into the other apartment.
"Well each plate weighs about .4 kilograms, the crate weighs about 2 kilograms and holds about fifty plates, give or take, so it actually only weighs about 22 kilograms, or 48.5 pounds. It's just the shape of the crate that makes it seem heavy because it's awkward to lift," I said, setting the crate down and turning. "If you hold your arms at a 90 degree angle and use your hips to lift, it's much easier."
"So basically you are telling me that my arms are weak?" He asked, grinning to let me know he wasn't offended.
"Yes," I said, straight faced. He frowned, thinking I was being serious but then I grinned too. "So, what's fun in DC in the late afternoon?"
"I have no idea," he said, following me back to my apartment. "Bars, I guess."
"Nah," I said, shaking my head. "Bars are for people who want to meet other people, but they aren't necessarily fun."
"I don't really go out much," he said, frowning in thought. We had made two more trips back and forth before the idea hit me.
"I know where we can go," I said, grinning.
"Where?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He seemed to be in a much better mood now then he had been this morning.
"It's a surprise," I said, lifting another crate, this one full of silverware. "But you can't wear a suit."
"I have other clothes," he said, frowning.
"Great. Go change now then. If we leave in an hour we should be there at the best time," I said, catching sight of the setting sun out my window.
"Yes because following a near stranger to an unknown location after sunset seems safe to me," he said sarcastically.
"I promise not to murder you or steal your wallet and ditch you in a bad part of town," I said, grinning, then pointed toward my door. "Now go away." He went, shaking his head. I locked the other apartment door then went to take a shower.
My hair was slightly easier to manage wet, it didn't start frizzing into tight curls until it was half dry, so I was able to braid it back away from my face with relative ease. I didn't bother putting makeup on as it would just become smudged when I went to sleep later and it was already almost dark out so it wouldn't be visible anyway. It was cool enough out after sundown to wear jeans and a long sleeved shirt, which was probably good since they were the only non work clothes I had in this apartment. The dark blue of the shirt made the light blue of my eyes stand out, which I liked, but I had to remind myself that I didn't need to look nice, this wasn't a date, this was to make someone who was sad go out and do something fun. I tied a strip of lighter blue fabric over my hair as a headband to keep the now drying curls from coming out of the braid, then I slipped on my shoes and left, locking the door behind me.
Lance was just coming down the stairs as I shut my door, and I turned and grinned, noticing that he was dressed similarly to me, jeans, long sleeved shirt, sneakers.
"Great, lets go," I said, leading him down the stairs.
"So where are we going?" He asked once we hit the street. There were a lot of people out still since it was relatively early in the evening, and we maneuvered around some of the window shoppers until we were a few blocks away on an emptier sidewalk.
"You know where the Natural History Museum is?" I asked, keeping a brisk pace as we rounded a corner.
"It's in the other direction," he said, glancing behind us.
"Yes, well there's a street that runs behind it for a few miles until it hits the river, and theres a nice little park there," I said, tucking my hands into my pockets.
"We are walking a mile to go to a park at night?" He asked, frowning.
"Sort of," I said. "But there are always fun things happening there, and I happen to really like the Monday night events. I think you will too."
"Uh huh," he said, disbelieving. I ignored him and we walked in silence for a while. "It is a nice night for a walk, I'll admit."
"I agree," I said, nodding.
"So, I don't really know that much about you," he said a moment later, plainly feeling that conversation was necessary. I shrugged.
"There's not that much to know," I said.
"Why did you go to Harvard?" He asked.
"My parents wanted me to," I said. "And I enjoyed it, for the most part. I learn pretty quickly, so school was easy."
"And you left when your parents died?" He asked.
"Yeah," I said softly. "It was a car accident, drunk driving hit and run, they didn't catch the guy. But after that I sort of lost interest in school. My parents were pretty well off so I didn't have to worry about getting a job to pay for school, and now I just like waitressing because I like talking to people."
"My parents passed away a couple years ago," he said. "They were both elderly and it was sort of expected, but that doesn't really make it easier."
"I'd imagine that would be harder," I said, watching my feet as we walked. We had slowed our pace a little as we talked. "You know its going to happen but you can't really prepare yourself for the death of a parent, even though its inevitable."
"Yeah," he said, his voice low. "I didn't have any other family either."
"So now you're alone," I concluded. "Me too. Well, I have some family on my moms side but they are important in something or other and my mom didn't keep in contact with them. I think they live around here though. Lets talk about something less sad."
"Okay," he said, clearing his throat. "Are you a cat or dog person?" I chuckled.
"Both. When I was little we had this German Shepard named Brian," I said, grinning. "We called him Brian because my dad said he had a friend named Brian that looked like a dog. We had cats too, after Brian died. Two of them. One was named Thunder and the other was Oreo."
"We had a cat named Thunder once, when I was little, like seven or so I think," Lance said, chuckling. "My dad hated it because it would claw up the sides of the couch."
"Ours never did that," I said, smiling. "I think my mom may have gotten them declawed, but I'm not sure. We're close, hear that?" There was a low, rhythmic thrumming sound coming from ahead of us where I knew the park to be in a couple blocks.
"Is that music?" He asked, tilting his head to one side.
"Sort of," I said, not wanting to spoil the surprise. "I came here a lot when my parents died as a way to get away from everything for a while. I haven't been here in months though. I'm glad they still have it." We turned the last corner and the sound of talking and laughing swept over us, along with a very strong smell of weed, and the sound of pounding drums.
"Please tell me we aren't here to do drugs," Lance said as we approached a group of people sitting in a circle on the grass.
"No," I said, grinning. "We are here for this." I waved my hand over one of the groups of people forming a drum circle. Everyone had some sort of instrument, ranging from actual skin drums to plastic buckets and twigs as sticks. They kept of a nice rhythm, a few of them singing in a language I thought might be african, but I wasn't sure. A little distance away there were bonfire barrels where people were talking, and past that I could see a few people playing guitar for a gathered group.
"A drum circle?" He asked as we hung back a ways.
"Yep," I said, grinning. "It's easy, come on, I'll show you," I said, tugging him along as someone stood from the circle. I pulled him down next to me, picking up the now vacated bongo type drum. The people on either side of us shifted to make room and smiled at us. The beat of the song was simple to pick up and the pattern was familiar from other times I'd been here. It really was just a repeating pattern of five hits, two quick ones on the side of the drum, one long beat in the middle, then two short ones again, this time on the rim. I repeated it a few times, falling into the song, then shifted the drum onto Lance's crossed legs.
"I don't know how to do drums," he protested. "I'm more of a piano guy."
"Come on, its easy," I said, laughing as I relaxed into the familiar atmosphere. "And if you mess up no ones going to notice. Here," I said, reaching across him to grab his hands. "If you play piano you must have some sense of a beat." I tapped his hands through the pattern twice, then released them. He continued it, a little slow at first, but then he picked it up. "See, easy."
"Where did you learn this?" He asked as the song shifted into another one, this one I recognized from my previous times here. He slid the bongo drum back over to me, and I picked up the beat for the song again as the singers fell into silence for the intro part.
"I found this park by mistake when I was wandering the area a few weeks after my parents died," I said, grinning as the pace began to quicken a little. "There was a woman there, her name is Casai, she taught me. She might be here tonight," I said, glancing around the bonfires again.
There were maybe forty people in our circle, which was more than what I was used to, but only a handful of them seemed to fully know what they were doing, they were the ones singing the traditional African songs. This one, I knew, opened with a shouted phrase after the fourth bar, and I joined in when they started it, grinning as the newer people jumped a little, not expecting the sound. The rhythm of the circle faltered for a second, but it picked back up quickly, and within moments, the sining started again, and two girls got up to do the dance that accompanied this piece.
"Oh," I said, grinning. "That's her," I said, nodding to the darker skinned of the two dancing woman. She was only in her late forties, but her hair was a bright gray color that stood out as she swayed. She spotted me and grinned, raising her hands in greeting and dancing closer to me.
I passed the drum over to Lance again, just in time for Casai to grab my outstretched hand and pull me up into the middle of the circle with her and the other girl. Both of them were wearing full length brightly colored skirts, which made the dance look better, but I joined in anyway, remembering the steps she had taught me after a few fumbling steps. This style of dancing was mostly about swaying the hips and throwing in a wide step here and there, but it still took my body a minute to remember the motions. It probably looked odd from the outside, as this was obviously an african style dance and music, and I was very pale with red hair and blue eyes, but that was my favorite thing about this place. It didn't matter what race you were, if you wanted to learn the culture, you could.
There were quite a few bystanders outside the circle, and on one of the spins in the dance I noticed a group of high school aged people nearby. I nodded at them after catching Casai's eye and she grinned in a wolf like way and danced around a drummer to grab the hand of the closest girl and pull her in with a spin. The girl, caught off guard, let herself be spun into the circle and I caught her hand and spun her again. She laughed, obviously not embarrassed by her friends teasing shouts, and it only took her a moment to fall into a similar dance of moving her hips to the beat. She didn't know the footwork, obviously, but she seemed to be enjoying herself, which was the point, in my opinion.
When that song ended, the circle fell into talking and laughing, and I made my way back to Lance knowing Casai was trailing behind me.
"Very good Mtoto," Casai said, her voice heavy with her accent. I guessed she was from either Kenya or Rwanda, from her accent and use of the Swahili language, though she had never told me outright. "I thought you may have forgotten about us. It has been a long time."
"I've been busy," I said, though I knew that wasn't a good excuse. Casai had led us over to one of the bonfire barely as the drum circle began a new beat.
"Busy is no excuse," she said, reading my mind. "Who is your friend?"
"This is Lance. Lance, this is Casai," I said, gesturing between them. Masai looked him over with sharp brown eyes, then nodded, her mouth spreading into a toothy grin.
"You are a quiet one," she said, and I rolled my eyes.
"You are intimidating, Casai," I said, nudging Lance with my elbow. "We are here for something fun to do."
"To take your mind from the troubles of life, music is the best cure," she said, grinning again. Her accent made the words sound like an old proverb.
"I don't think that's scientifically accurate," Lance muttered to me as Casai turned to go back to the drum circle.
"Maybe not, but it definitely works better than drugs or alcohol," I said, grinning. He didn't reply, instead opting to follow me to the next group of people, this one mostly listening to two people playing something I didn't recognize on guitars. With the faded sound of the drum circle to keep beat in the background, the guitars sounded like a miniature band, in my opinion. "Let's sit," I said, spotting a tree nearby that was close enough to listen, but far enough away that we wouldn't disturb anyone by talking. We settled into the grass and sat in silence for a few moments, and I closed my eyes, letting the sounds of the guitars, drums, talking, and in the distance, a river, fill my mind.
"Why haven't you been here in a while?" Lance asked after a few moments of silence. I shrugged without opening my eyes.
"I've just been busy I guess," I said, though I knew that wasn't true. I frowned, then decided that I may as well continue since it wasn't fair of me to ask him things about his life then not be honest when he asked about mine. "And I suppose that I lost motivation to really go out and do things after a while. Work just seemed more important. And I think maybe I felt like enjoying myself meant I didn't care about my parents."
"I'm sure they would want you to have fun," he said, and though my eyes were still closed I could hear him leaning back against the tree, relaxing a little, finally.
"I know," I said. "It's just hard to go out and have fun when you feel like you should be sad for the loss. Time heals everything though. I'm definitely more open to having fun now then I was last year at this time."
"That's good," he said, and I nodded to myself.
"So do you want to talk about Daisy yet?" I asked. "Talking about it will make you feel better."
"I know," he said, then sighed, and I opened my eyes when I heard him shift beside me. He was watching the guitar players, his elbows resting on his crossed legs, hands supporting his head. "I guess I'm not really surprised things ended the way they did. We were engaged once, like a year ago."
"What happened?" I prompted when he fell silent.
"She left to go on this archeological dig somewhere in Asia or Africa for a year and we called it off," he said, frowning. "But then we just sort of started dating again when she came back, and we never really talked about anything important. We were only going to be moving in together because both of our apartment leases were up at the same time and I thought it would be a good idea, but she thought it meant we were getting married. I love her, but she's just not… I don't know." He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.
"She's just not the right one," I suggested, and he nodded. " So who's the right one then?" I asked, leaning my head back to look up at the sky. The leaves of the tree obscured most of the view, but there were a few of the brighter stars that filtered their way through the foliage.
"I have no idea," he said, giving a snort that might have been a derisive laugh, but sounded more like a hopeless one. "Maybe… maybe she is the right one and I just ruined it."
"Maybe," I said, shrugging against the tree.
"You aren't making me feel better," he said in accusing voice.
"I didn't know I was supposed to be," I said, chuckling. I sat forward and faced him. "Okay, look at it this way. You and Daisy were obviously very compatible, right?" I asked, and he nodded, frowning a little. "Well, there are over seven billion people in the world, most of which you haven't met yet so the chances of you only being compatible with one person out of seven billion is just not plausible. Somewhere in that seven billion, statistically there are a few exactly like her, and more that you would be even more compatible with."
"Seven billion is a lot of people," he said with a sigh.
"Exactly. So the chances of you meeting someone else you can share a connection with is very high," I said, nodding to myself. "But first you need to stop being all sad and mopey. Go out and have fun and meet new people."
"If you believe your own advice then why aren't you with someone?" He asked, and I frowned in thought. It had been a while… a few years at least.
"I never said I wasn't dating someone," I said to give myself time to think of a good response.
"You never leave your house or work, your apartment is practically empty, and you said yourself that you lost the motivation to go out and do things," he said.
"Alright, fair," I said, smiling a little. "I guess I've always liked being independent and I don't feel alone since I spend most of my time around my employees or customers."
"That makes sense I guess," he said, his fingers tapping the grass in time with the music. I had begun pulling up the tips of the grass, making a small pile on my knee as I spoke.
"Tomorrow night we will go out to a bar. No wait, the day after tomorrow we will go out to a bar, and you will pick up some random girl and go back to her place," I said, grinning as I tugged up more grass ends to add to my pile. "That's the best way to move on from a relationship.
"I don't have a choice in this do I?" He asked, his voice resigned but amused. I shook my head.
"You learn fast," I said, grinning. "You have no choice. You can consider it as repayment for my kindness in letting you live in one of my apartments."
"Oh I see," he said, chuckling. "So you pretend you are being nice and then blackmail people later?"
"Exactly," I said, nodding with a chuckle.
"Hey," a voice said, interrupting our conversation. It was a young guy, probably in his early twenties, and he was obviously stoned out of his mind. "You guys want some weed?" He held up a little baggie and waved it around. "I'll sell you an eighth for twenty bucks, I really need some money."
"No thanks," Lance said, and I could tell he was holding back some comment he wanted to make. I fished through my pocket and pulled out twenty dollars and held it out to the guy, who grinned widely.
"I don't want that," I said when he thrust the bag toward me. "You can just have the money."
"Seriously?" He asked.
"Yes," I said, holding back a laugh. "And in the future you should be more careful who you try to sell to. We could be cops or, I don't know, FBI agents."
"Yeah right," he said, pocketing his bag and the money. "Thanks dude." I shook my head a little as he swaggered away across the grass.
"You know that he's probably just going to buy more drugs with that," Lance said.
"Or maybe he has a kid and is trying to buy food for him, or maybe he's late on his rent and is about to get kicked out, or maybe he owes someone else," I said, picking up my now sizable pile of grass shreds and getting to my feet. "You shouldn't be so judgmental of people, you know. It makes everyone seem like they are horrible."
"Yeah well, most people are horrible," he said, standing up as well. I waited till he was on his feet but not yet balanced, then tossed my handful of grass over his head.
"You have a bleak outlook," I said, chuckling at his surprised little jump.
"You just threw grass in my hair," he said, trying to brush it out.
"Yes, I know, I'm a terrible person. That's the worst thing I've done all day," I said, laughing as he gave up and shook his head back and forth. This served more to mess up his hair than to get the grass out and I laughed again and started off toward the street. He caught up after a little ways.
"Where are we going?" He asked, falling into step beside me.
"You can go wherever you want. I'm going to get some food, I haven't eaten all day," I said, heading down a different road than the one we had taken to get here. "You can join me if you want." He didn't say anything, but he didn't leave, which was good. It meant I hadn't embarrassed him by asking about Daisy, which meant he either wasn't as broken up about her, or his mind was on something else now, which had been the point of the evening.
We settled for pretzels from the first street vendor we passed, and walked slowly as we ate, heading in the direction of the Diner. We continued to walk slowly, and in silence, even after we had both finished the pretzels. It was well after midnight by the time we got back to the street the diner was on, but the night had stayed warm and the stars were visible even over the street lights.
"Thanks," Lance said as Kate pulled open the doorway that led to the stairs. "Not for the door. I mean, thanks for that too I guess, but I meant thanks for…"
"Distracting you from reality for a few hours?" I suggested, grinning as we climbed up the stairs.
"Yeah, that," he said.
"You're welcome," I said, stopping on the landing outside my apartment hallway. "I'm free to do the same anytime you want. Except tomorrow. In fact, let me give you my phone number," I said, shuffling through my purse for one of the business cards I handed out to people looking to rent one of my places. I handed it over to him. "You can call me anytime if you need someone to talk to or have an emergency or anything."
"Thanks," he said, smiling a little as he tucked the card into his pocket. My hair, which had stayed nicely back for most of our walk, was now curling against the back of my neck in an itchy way that was growing more and more annoying, so I gave him another smile, and turned to go inside my apartment to let it out of its braid.