Chapter 3: The Cold Killed My Family

Addison Grey is like some kind of fever dream, and I don’t want to wake up. I sit on one of the cafe’s many leather couches while she does her thing for a couple hours. Or, more accurately, I pretend to scroll on my phone while it charges and spend most of that time sneaking furtive glances up at Addy. I even spot her smiling at me once or twice. Don’t freak out. She’s just checking on her only customer. 

But I’ve never been good at not freaking out. In fact, I’m kind of an expert in freaking out. (Case in point: the whole running away from home without a plan thing.)

Eventually, Addy breaks the silence and snaps me out of my thoughts. “You want anything for lunch, little Lamb?”

Now she’s feeding me lunch? I could get used to this. Even so, having this girl pay for everything I need feels a bit wrong. “Is there anything I can do around the café? Y’know, to pay you back?”

She ponders for a moment, only to shrug. “Not really. It’s kinda dead on Mondays.”

“Please? I’ll wash dishes. Anything.”

Addy clicked her teeth, grinning. “Awww. Such a good little lamb, wanting to be my maid.” I blush furiously and cease all other bodily functions for a few seconds. “Yeah, okay, I guess it’s fair if you wanna earn your keep. C’mon back. I’ll show you what you can do.”

I leave my phone plugged in while I get up, following Addy into the back room behind the counter. It feels strange at first, like I’m intruding. But whenever Addy smiles at me, all that washes away, and it feels a bit like home.

Not the “home” I ran from, mind you. A real home. The kind that nurtures and protects you. The kind that feels safe and warm. A few candles are lit on the countertop, giving the kitchen a scent like pumpkin pie and autumn spices. The music from the dining area has followed me here—there’s some kind of sound system set up with whatever glorious playlist Addy has either painstakingly curated or randomly slapped together. It’s hard to tell with her particular brand of chaos.

Addy shows me to an enormous sink, which is filled to the brim with day-old dirty dishes and coffee mugs. “Ta-da,” she sings. “I figure this should take you about an hour. In return, you get lunch, some gas money, and a place to stay for the night. How’s that sound?”

“That’s very generous of you,” I say, surveying the warzone that is this sink. “You must really hate dishes, huh?”

“With a burning passion,” she admits. “Honestly, the whole kitchen thing is my least favorite part of running this place. I’d hire a full-time kitchen worker if I could.”

“What’s stopping you? Too expensive?”

“Nah.” She points out the nearby window, which looks out the side of the window and surveys the small town tucked in its tiny valley. “There’s not exactly a huge pool of potential employees out here. Only other person who works here on occasion is my friend Val, but we just alternate days. We usually don't work at the same time.”

“Is she anti-dishwashing, too?” I tease.

“They,” she clarifies, and I quickly revise Val’s pronouns in my mind. “And yep. They hold protests and rallies and everything,” Addy says with a chuckle. “Dish soap’s over there, drying rack’s there, rags there, you get the gist. Have fun, Lamb.” She winks and leaves me to my chore.

It’s not the hardest work imaginable, but the sheer number of dishes and my desire to impress this woman slow me down quite a bit. In the other room, I can hear Addy humming and singing quietly to her music. She must feel lonely here when nobody is around. Maybe that’s why she’s taken an interest in me? My mind will justify pretty much any reason for someone to not care about me. Just how I’m wired, I guess.

By the time I’m done with the dishes, I’m sweating from the hot water, the steam, and how cooped up it is back here. I’m only just realizing how damn warm it is in this whole building—outside was pretty cold with it being mid-autumn and early morning and all, so it was a welcome respite from the chill when I first took the walk here from my now-defunct Subaru. But now that I’ve spent a few hours inside, woof, I could use a bit of that. I walk over to the window, undo the latch and open it nice and wide, taking in a crisp breeze. I let it blow through my auburn hair, running my hands through long tresses to undo the knots and tangles I let build up during my long drive and many, many crying fits.

A minute or so later, my reverie is cut short by a shout from the doorway. “Oh, jesusfuckbagsofchrist, close that shit!” I jump through my skin. Addy runs up behind me, pushing me aside, and closes the window with enough force that the whole wall shakes a little. Her teeth are chattering and she’s got her arms wrapped around her chest like she’s freezing cold. “S-sorry,” she says, flustered. “I, uhh, don’t like the cold very much.”

“I can see that.” I take a moment to come down from the shock, my breathing returning to normal. Yelling at somebody from behind is not super fun for somebody with an anxiety disorder, not gonna lie. “Did the cold, like, kill your family or something?” I joke.

Strangely, there is a singular moment, a second frozen in time, in which Addy’s expression almost makes me think I somehow struck some kind of nerve. Then her face breaks out in a grin and she laughs it off. “Yeah, something like that,” she replies strangely. “Oh, hey, you did all the dishes! Badass. Here, get yourself some food and some gas. You can probably roll your car down the hill to the nearest gas station; it’s a Texaco right down the block, you can’t miss it.” She hands me two twenty dollar bills, which is a hell of a pay for one hour of work.

“What? This is too much, I can’t take all this!” I protest, but she closes my fist around the two bills and shakes her head.

“Nope, I pay a living wage here,” she insists. “Seriously though, I’m a sucker for someone in need. Take the money and do what you gotta do. Just be sure to come back to me later, yeah?” she adds with a wink.

I can’t help it. I throw my arms around her waist, pressing my cheek against her shoulder. “Thank you so much. You really are a life saver.” Godsdamn, she’s warm. She runs her fingers through my hair for a ghost of a second and hugs me back. I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer in my entire life. When I pull away, the absence of her warmth fills me with unease. Is it possible to miss somebody you’ve only just met?

We stand in awkward silence for a moment—her staring right at me, me staring directly at my feet because I am a coward. Then I snatch the two bills still clutched in Addy’s hand and back out of the kitchen. “Th-thanks again! I’ll, uhh, be back!” I turn and run off before I make more of a fool of myself.

“I close up at four!” she yells after me.

I rush out the door and lean with my back against it after it shuts behind me. My breathing comes back slowly, unsteadily. My hands tremble as I raise them to my cheek, Addy’s warmth lingering on my fingertips. The urge to flee rumbles within me. What am I even doing here? Flirting with a random barista? Staying the night at a stranger’s place? Feeling safe in her arms, like I haven’t just been through the most intense trauma of my entire life?

That’s just like me. So adrift that I’ll settle in with the first person who shows me any kind of attention. 

Little Lamb. Heat rises to my cheeks. I start walking back uphill to my car, putting Rat & Raven café behind me in both body and mind. Just be sure to come back to me later, yeah? I shove my hands in the pockets of my sweater and shake my head. Then I hop into Windy’s driver seat and start rolling slowly downhill toward the rest of Robin’s Brook. Sorry Addy, but I don’t think I should. No matter how much I want to.  

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