I pulled back the curtains the tiniest bit and peeked outside. I blinked and squinted at the bright sunlight and immediately shut the curtains again. I had a strange craving for a donut but there was no way I was going out to get one. Too bad donut places don't usually deliver. It had been a week since my blow-up at Mary Margaret and David. And despite my moping about and shouting, they still brought me groceries and tried to get me up and moving.
"Mary Margaret, I need a favor," I said, calling her up on the phone.
"Anything, sweetheart. It's been forever since you've asked me for anything," she commented.
"I need a donut," I said softly. "And a hug wouldn't be refused either."
"I'll be over in a little bit."
When she hung up, I stood silently in my kitchen for a few minutes instead of immediately returning to the couch like usual. I opened up the fridge and reached for the large bottle of Dr. Pepper. I used to drink it religiously. And Mary Margaret still kept it in my fridge in case I recovered my taste for it.
I poured myself a glass and walked slowly upstairs. It must have been a day for miracles because I actually felt like showering. And judging from my greasy, matted hair, and strong body odor, I could use one badly.
At first, I just sat on the floor of the shower with hot water pounding my back as I sipped my drink and let my thoughts wander. Wander to washing a toddler in a bathtub similar to this one. His happy arms flailing and splashing as he laughed and smiled at me. He hadn't had a worry in the world.
The glass slipped from my hands and shattered on the shower floor. The sound caused me to wake from my daydream and jump to my feet. I barely winced as a piece of glass cut the bottom of my foot. Instead, I calmly started shampooing my hair and scrubbing at my body. Blood washed down the drain with the bubbles.
I turned off the water and stepped from the shower, barely noticing the pain in my foot. I patted myself dry with a towel and slid into some fresh clothes that had been folded in the cupboard next to the towels.
I put a sock over my foot and walked downstairs to the kitchen. Mary Margaret was waiting for me with a small bag and a cup of hot chocolate.
She noticed that I had showered but she chose not to comment. Instead she pulled me into her arms and held me tight.
"I brought your favorite," she said.
"Thank you," I said softly.
"What are friends for?" she smiled.
She seemed happy that we were interacting positively. And when she left a half hour later, saying she was late to cook dinner for David, she gave me another hug and told me to call her if I needed anything else. l walked her to the door and locked it behind her.
Unwilling to surrender to the comfort of my couch and sink back into my pit of despair, I walked to the back of the house and opened the door. My deck had a set of stairs that led directly to the beach. One of the perks of inheriting this house from my uncle was that it had been set up as the ultimate rich person's getaway. I hadn't been rich until my last living relative had died, leaving me everything. Henry and I had just moved in a few weeks before… it happened.
I sank into one of the reclining chairs and looked out at the waves.
I had to shade my eyes a little from the setting sun. I was watching a couple of people walking along the beach in different directions when an enthusiastic golden retriever came running up the steps and onto my deck. It jumped up onto my lap and panted happily as it sniffed my face.
I found myself laughing as I pushed the slobbery head away from mine.
"Aren't you cute?" I said softly, rubbing its fur.
"Goldie! Goldie! No!" a man came running up the stairs, breathing hard. "I am so sorry."
"It's okay," I said. "He wasn't doing any harm."
"She," the man corrected. "She just got away from me. I didn't mean to invade your privacy."
"I said, it's okay," I repeated.
I continued stroking the dog as she sat in my lap.
"Your name is Goldie?" I asked the dog. "That's not very original, but it suits you, I think."
"My name is Killian," the man offered. "Killian Jones."
"I'm Emma," I said shortly. "You and your dog should probably go now."
The man hurried forward and grabbed the dog's collar in both hands. I watched as they moved towards the stairs.
"Thank you for being understanding," Killian said. "Maybe I'll see you around. I walk past here almost every evening."
"Maybe," I said. "But don't count on it."
I turned away and after a second or two of awkward silence, he left, taking his overenthusiastic retriever with him.
Even though I had been slightly cold towards him, I still found myself wondering if I would see him again. And it was that thought that was on my mind as I drifted off to sleep that night, not the usual thoughts of Henry lying dead in my arms.