Fated Memories (2 page)

Sonia poured them each a cup of coffee and joined Kitty at the table with her bowl of cereal. “Not going to work today Kitty? You were pretty wound up yesterday. Did you get any sleep?”

“A couple of hours. Thanks for indulging me last night. It felt good to get that tension and anxiety out in the open. I’m more focused this morning so I think I’ll check out the head-hunter job sites and see what’s available.” 

“Mmm.” She slurped her cereal. “Sometimes freeing those negative emotions is the same as lancing an inflamed abscess. You have to squeeze the ugly pus out in order for it to heal.”

“Yeah, thanks for the visual.”

Minutes later Sonia got up and rinsed her dishes out in the sink. “I gotta go before I’m late. Good luck head-hunting. I’ll see you tonight.” She kissed Kitty on the cheek, attached her ID to the lanyard around her neck, threw her humongous purse over her shoulder, and flew out the door like a tiny Puerto Rican whirlwind.

Kitty spent a few hours surfing the want ads on the net and uploaded her resume to a few agency sites. She hated to admit it, but her parents were right. No way could she support herself anywhere above the poverty line without learning more marketable skills. Her Humanities degree opened possibilities in teaching, public relations or sales, except those careers involved having people skills. Not her forte. The question still rattled in her brain, what field did she want to study? Her best subjects in school had been the science classes. Biology, earth science, chemistry, she got A’s in every one of them. Games and puzzles and things that fit together were on her favorite-things-to-do list, but the problem of how they’d produce income and keep her interest for any length of time baffled her. 

After a while, her surfing veered dangerously towards shopping, so she decided to check her email and then give it a rest. Maybe go to the gym where she could think while punching the body-bag. Kitty could never make her parents understand why hitting things always lightened her mood. That’s when she saw the note from Maggie.

A distant cousin, Maggie McGrail had found Kitty last year while doing genealogy research on her family. While Kitty had dabbled in that, she’d never gotten too far. Eager to meet her, she’d driven to Maggie’s home in Pennsylvania one weekend and they had an absolute blast. Over pizza and beer, they’d shared memories of their childhood years—good and bad—, their failed romances, and promises they’d made to themselves. Maggie’s hilarious stories of goings-on at the diner where she worked had Kitty in stitches.

Although not close relatives, the cousins found similarities in their natures and circumstances with enough common ground to be at ease with each other right away. A new experience for Kitty.

Physically they weren’t that much alike. For one thing, Maggie’s side of the family was more generously endowed in the chest area. She had light skin, clear and smooth as porcelain, and her blue-gray eyes that she said she got from her grandma, were fringed with thick dark lashes. She had the same reddish-brown hair which she supplemented with more red highlights, making the contrast with the rest of her coloring more striking. A major blessing for Kitty, Maggie’s five-foot-seven height meant she’d never be called a giant standing next to her.

Since that first visit they’d kept in contact through occasional phone calls and frequent emails. The internet made it easy to share their deepest secrets, their fears and anxieties, as well as a few laughs over everyday life. These open and frank conversations helped the cousins grow as close as sisters. Kitty became the one Maggie never had and Maggie replaced the one who’d moved away from Kitty when she got married. Maggie’s only other living relative was a sweet old grandmother who had little time left to live, so it pleased Kitty to welcome her into her own little circle of family and friends.

Kitty hated dumping her problems on her, but practical Maggie always had such good advice. And, as much as she loved her mom and dad, she always felt like such a child when she ran crying to them. To make matters worse, she’d also have to listen to their sermons on how to live her life. Sonia tried, but it was Maggie who always helped her see things clearly. Her mind made up, Kitty reached for her cell.

Maggie picked up the phone on the first ring. “Hey Kitty, how’s it going?”

Even with the catharsis of last night’s tear fest, Kitty’s voice still quivered as she spoke. “Not good.”

“Why? What happened? Is everything okay?”

“My life sucks, Mags. Everyone at the hospital thinks I’m a bitch and they want to get rid of me. They gave me a take-it-or-leave-it offer for the med/surg unit where Richard works and I can’t do it Maggie, I just can’t. And to top it off, Sonia and Carlos got engaged and they might be moving. If I quit the hospital I’ll have to go back and live with my parents. I’m such a loser.”

“Never say that Kit, you are not a loser. Life is all about changes that’s what makes it interesting. You’ve always known you were too smart for that job. This is your chance to break free, turn the negative into a positive. Spread your wings. Grow.”

Kitty still wasn’t convinced. “You make it sound so easy.”

“No, it isn’t easy, it’s freakin’ hard. Until they’re tested, though, people don’t realize their strength. I have faith in you, Kitty Trausch.” Maggie’s voice caught. “Speaking of strength, Grandma Margaret’s is running out. She gave everyone a scare the other day when her heart stopped and they had to shock her back. Doctor Brunsting had me sign a paper saying that if it happens again they’ll just let her go. She’s ninety-six, Kit, and she’s dying.”

Kitty sat up straighter in her chair, chastising herself.
How awful of me to burden her with my whining when she had heart-wrenching problems of her own.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mags. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Maggie thought for a second, then her voice brightened and she talked faster. “As a matter of fact, there is. Tell those ingrates at the hospital to pound sand and come stay with me for a while. To have you here would be a Godsend for me, and then you’d have time to explore your options. It’ll be good for both of us. What do you say?”

What a tempting idea. Sonia deserved her privacy, and the hospital obviously wanted her to leave, but Maggie needed her. That meant she didn’t have to run back to Mom and Dad and listen to their lectures. There was no downside.

“Okay, Maggie. I’ll do it. I’ll put in my two weeks’ notice tomorrow. Tell Grandma to hold on till I get there.”

“
M
aggie, would you mind switching tables with me? If I have to clean up another milkshake those brats at table four spilled again, I’m going to throttle them both.” Sylvie never did have patience with kids.

“Sure, no problem. Why don’t you go take your break and I’ll finish up here? Then we can switch back.”

“Thanks, you’re a doll. I owe you one.” Sylvie almost ran to the small break room behind the kitchen at Sammy’s Diner.

Maggie didn’t want to say anything, but Sylvie already owed her several. At least she only had one customer to be served in her section. He sat alone in the corner booth scrutinizing the menu over and over as if re-reading it might make it change. 

She came to his table and gave her usual speech, “Hi, I’m Maggie. I’ll be your server. What can I start you with today?”

His jaw seemed to unhinge and his eyes bulged out of his head as he tore his concentration from the menu. Not the usual response. Maggie thought it a straight-forward question, and couldn’t help shifting on her feet. To make their day go by faster, she and Sylvie sometimes played a game of “Guess the Occupation.” So, while he composed himself, she assessed him for what his might be. His longish-brown hair needed styling, and just a hint of a beard that hadn’t fully come in yet, shadowed his face. The staring brown eyes had little flecks of green and she found his thick, dark lashes quite alluring. She noticed too that a slanting scar interrupted the hair on his left eyebrow and ran right through it. He wore nice jeans and a cotton button-up shirt, except the red plaid pattern and missing tie, ruled out an executive or an accountant.
Computer geeks get to dress casually, that might be his thing. Anyway, if he doesn’t close his mouth soon I’ll peg him as a doofus and move on.

“Do you need a few more minutes to decide?”

A flicker of light went on in his head as he peered up at her. “Lucy?”

“Uh… no, Maggie.” She pointed to her name badge. “There’s no one here named Lucy. I’ll be your waitress today. Have you decided what you want to order or should I come back in a few minutes?” He was cute, but a definite doofus.

“No, no that’s okay. I’ll have the French dip sandwich, fries and iced tea. Or wait, make it an Arnold Palmer. Do you know what that is? Half-lemonade and half iced tea? And please, forgive me for staring. It’s just that… I think I know you.” 

The apology sounded genuine, and she almost felt bad for him. Not bad enough though. “Oh, I haven’t heard that line before, good one. I’ll be right back with your drink.”

Maggie left to get the drink and saw Sylvie screwing up her face in that smirk again. “So, what’s this one? From his build I’d say whatever he does involves heavy labor. Is he a garbage collector? Does he smell?”

“I don’t know he’s kinda dumb. He couldn’t even hit on me with any creativity. It’s a shame though, I think he’s cute.” She glanced back over to his table and found Sylvie was right. Built like a linebacker, he had wide square shoulders and arms that made the sleeves of his shirt strain as he leaned forward examining his fingernails. The view from the side showed no paunch or flab whatsoever.
I’ll bet his body-fat-percentage is in the single digits
, she mused. So, if not a garbage collector, maybe he played sports? An athlete would certainly be a more interesting explanation for his physique.

When she returned with his food, he averted his eyes and fidgeted with the napkin dispenser. His obvious discomfort made her uncomfortable, so she redeemed one of Sylvie’s IOU’s, gave his table over to her, and retreated to the break room.

***

With only light traffic today, Maggie zoomed home from the early shift by four, leaving plenty of time to wash off the grease from the diner and grab a quick bite before her run. Keeping in shape had always been a major part of her life and, even once soccer season ended, she’d still run four to five miles a day. It gave her such an exhilarating sense of freedom and release. Maggie changed into her running gear, lacing up her hot pink Saucony’s and, after a few good stretches, ran out the door and revved up her trusty CRV. At this time of day along the Susquehanna riverfront trail, the breeze made breathing the hot muggy summer air tolerable, and she loved watching the people enjoy the park. There were art shows or other festivals during the summer, but she tried not to stop and linger so she could log her miles.

Once at the park-n-ride Maggie set her fit watch for five miles and programmed the alarm to ding at the halfway point to alert her when to turn around and head back. She popped in her earbuds attached to the phone strapped to her arm and off she went.

Most times, singing along with the music in her head helped distract her from feeling fatigued or muscle sore. But today she couldn’t help thinking about that guy at the diner who had called her Lucy. People say everyone has a doppelgänger, yet it made her sad to think she might resemble someone’s dead wife or something. Maggie hoped that wasn’t the case. Perhaps Lucy was an old friend or co-worker he liked and missed. Even though he came off as awkward and flustered, she could imagine a whole slew of circumstances that might make seeing him again interesting.

“Hey, McGrail!  McGrail!”

With Rihanna in her ear and fantasies on her mind, it took a few moments for her to realize that someone had called her name.

Marshall Doyle came up fast behind her. He and his Camp Hill Rec team had beat Maggie’s in the finals for the spring season championships this year.
Huh, team. The word doesn’t even apply to them. They’re more like a street gang with uniforms and play way too rough
. After the game, she remembered, when they went to shake hands, they taunted and jeered them to further crush their spirit.

“Go away, Doyle, I’m not in the mood to talk.” 

“That’s okay sweet cheeks, with the view I have from here, I don’t need to hear your voice.”

“You’re disgusting, go away.” Though she tried to speed up, she was on her fifth mile and, with this heat, no longer had the kick to match his long stride. Before she knew it, he’d darted ahead and ran backwards in front of her blocking her from passing and forcing her to slow her pace.

“Come on, just because we beat your asses in the finals doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Did anyone ever tell you how hot you look when you’re red-faced and sweaty?” Doyle leered at her like a starving hyena eyeing his next meal. “Y’know, if you want I can give you a few pointers on how to be a better player. And how to play soccer better too!” Was that his idea of witty banter?

Maggie gave up and just stopped. She needed a drink of water anyway. Studying him while she recapped her water bottle, she saw why some women might find him attractive. Tall with a lean muscular body, Doyle’s thick, dark hair, though slicked with sweat right now, looked professionally styled. His lips seemed full and soft and his shit-eating grin showed impossibly white teeth. Except he had the worst personality in the world. He reminded her of the controlling wife beaters that got arrested on TV crime shows and she wanted no part of him.

Maggie turned away while she snapped the water bottle in place on her belt. “Look, no offense Doyle, but I really do have to go. My boyfriend’s waiting for me to get home so we can go to his parents’ house for dinner.”
Wow
, she congratulated herself. That lie came out so easily. She didn’t even stumble through it! And it obviously did the trick as he shifted his feet.

Doyle squinted suspiciously at her. “Your boyfriend, huh? How come I never see you with anyone at the games? Is he not into sports or is soccer just not his game? Cause, you know, you really should be with a man who understands your interests.” He had tried for an earnest expression, but it still turned her stomach.

“Oh, he understands.” She knelt and pretended to retie her shoe. “He’s just more the academic type. I like a man with a brain.”   

Maggie popped the earbud back in and stepped around him, jogging the last half mile to her car without looking back. She felt his eyes burning through her back as she left. As she reached the car, her heart pounded from the run and even more so from being creeped out by Doyle. Maggie shot a longing glance at the guy selling ice cream from a pushcart, thinking she’d love to have an Italian ice to cool down, but she didn’t want to give Doyle the chance to catch her up again. Instead, she gave up on the cooling snack, jumped in the car, and drove home. She wanted to make it to the nursing home to visit Grandma Margaret this evening.