“Well, potluck will be here all summer,” Leon said without any judgment in his tone.
That was one thing that kept me coming back here, how no one ever pressured anyone to stay. Some people left for months before returning to the Collective, and every volunteer welcomed them with joy.
Before I could come up with an excuse to way to break off the conversation and head to my car, Leon asked, “How do you feel about volunteering?”
I blinked, thrown. Definitely didn’t intend for this guy to show up asking me about that. “Like, objectively or personally?”
“I was aiming for personal, but now I’m curious about your opinion,” Leon said, tucking a hand into the pocket of his denim shorts.
“I can be persuaded either way depending on the circumstance, but I can’t say in good conscience that I won’t come up with an excuse to get out of it if something else comes up that’s more motivating.”
Leon’s laugh was famously infectious and impossible to avoid joining. It settled the jittery melody humming under my skin, and the tight fist gripping my heart loosened.
It was the first full breath I’d taken in the last half hour.
There was still laughter in his voice when Leon said, “I’m not sure if this’ll be an easy sell, but Hard Knox Roller Derby is having a fundraiser where it’s an open lap to the public. All the concession sales will go to the Collective.” He knocked his knuckles against the clipboard and handed it to me. “You free?”
The bout was Wednesday. Ada had played on the derby team for three years while she was in college and had loved it. When she’d first joined, I thought she’d lost her damn mind, but when Ada got her mind fixated on something, she was going to do it no matter what anyone said.
Before we’d figured out that she was using drugs, she’d faded off the roster. She’d also been telling us she withdrew from classes, but after we saw the drugs hidden in her bedroom, my parents found out she’d failed out of her last semester.
She’d been on pills and coke for six months.
I still went to see the derby team play, still clinging, in a sense, to the Ada I missed. I hadn’t heard from her in several days, but this could be a lifeline back to her, to get a glimpse of the fun and life of her past. Her interest in something again.
I still followed the team on social media. New people had joined since Ada’s time, and the long-timers were still hanging around.
“Yeah, I’m free,” I said, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. I clicked the pen top on the clipboard, wrote down my name and number, and handed it back to Leon. “I got a friend who’ll come too.”
Leon did a small fist pump. “The event is at the World’s Fair Park at seven, so we ask that you show up an hour before.” I nodded along, feigning ignorance, as if it was my first time ever doing it.
I got back to my car and found multiple texts from Ada, continually apologizing and begging for my forgiveness. I couldn’t make Ada get clean, but there was a chance if I showed her what used to make her happy. Maybe then she’d want to try.
I hit the button and called Ada. When the line connected, I took a breath and said, “There’s something I want you to check out.”
There was music booming on the other line, mixing in with an argument I couldn’t make out. After a full minute of waiting, Ada said, “Tell me where I need to be and at what time and I’ll be there.”
She didn’t say goodbye when she hung up, which had become the norm between us. Ada had lost most of the light that had burst out of her. Now all that remained of her presence was a miasmic fog and its death grip on my throat.
The connection between us was fading into obscurity. Loneliness washed over me, sending shivers down my spine and making my stomach churn with nausea. I rolled down my window and closed my eyes, feeling the warm breeze brush against my face as I wished that loving someone didn’t have to be so torturous.
NIK
Deliveries at work were always a pain in the ass because Sunrise depended on local farms for our stock. Spring meant a whole new inventory to figure out. Which would’ve been no big deal if the new trainees would stop with their fucking smoke breaks.
“Yeah, well if shit doesn’t start settling down, I just might say fuck it and take a long smoke break myself,” Walt said as he pushed a cart of meat delivery past me. Apparently, I’d said that last bit out loud.
“If you wanna quit, you can take that up with Duncan tomorrow, but I need you to be doing your full eight,” I said while flipping through the recent delivery’s inventory sheet. An unexpected hard freeze pushed through the east and left many of the vendors scrambling to find ways to get what inventory they had to us. Which meant the delivery bay was a constant flow of drop-offs, leaving our backroom in chaos.
And then the Wi-Fi went down in the store.
I flicked a glance at the open bay where three produce trucks had backed into the loading area and shook my head. “Hell, on second thought, I may join you.”
After a couple more hours, Duncan came in the back and gave us the good news—the Wi-Fi was fixed. Some of the tension in my jaw released.
“Now we’re back into the twenty-first century, I should be able to get all this finished by the end of the day,” I said, ushering Duncan away from the mess. “All I need is another coffee or four.”
“I pulled a favor from Destiny, and she’s got someone delivering a couple of those to-go boxes of coffee and a couple dozen donuts.”
“You’re a legend,” I said, looking over the printouts of the deliveries. “Yo, I’m busting my ass with checking the inventory, so don’t come at me if I’ve fucked it up.”
Duncan looked amused. “You did say you’d give it a shot.”
“Yeah, well, past me signed checks current me can’t cash,” I said, rolling my achy neck.
“I’m just jazzed I didn’t have to do it myself,” Duncan said with a laugh in his voice.
Duncan didn’t stray far, instructing the stocking crew on where to take the inventory in the backroom. I still felt on edge, unable to tune out the casual conversation between the crew or the loud rumble of metal from the overhead doors on the trucks.
And then, a voice, deep and rumbly, filtered through the air. My back straightened, and suddenly my fingers went numb.
It couldn’t be.
Very carefully, I peered over my shoulder in an effort to keep an air of nonchalance, hoping that the voice I heard had belonged to someone else.
Monday really wanted to be a little bitch.
