Ten

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” -Leonard Cohen

-Callie-

A whole week went by without seeing my mother's ghost. It gave me a pinch of hope. It felt as if my bones were slightly beginning to strengthen and my senses were beginning to come back. I was so used to spending the last couple of weeks in bed swallowed in my blankets that I forgot sunny days were a good thing. I forgot that food could still taste good. I forgot that the world is still beautiful.

Part of me really wanted to believe that it was over and I could finally take down the blanket that Brandon covered my mirror with. But each time I try, I swear I can still feel someone watching me.

My dread stalked and followed me to my distraction, unfortunately. My job is where I come to pretend my life is normal, to be a different person from the closed off shell I am when I'm alone. My worst enemy this week at work has been the bathroom. I keep my eyes glued to the tile floor and get in and out as quickly as possible before I can catch my moms dead gaze. I won't go at all if I can help it.

The worst is feeling the discomfort when I'm working trying to distract myself from the inevitably of when I'll have to go home. I'll be washing dishes at closing time and can feel eyes burning into the back of my head. It could be what I fear it is, or it could be Roman, whom I only partly fear..

He has actually been a pretty good trainer despite his constant late arrivals and lack of communication. Mostly the lack of communication. I wasn't sure if he just didn't like me or if this was simply how he was with everybody. I haven't gotten to learn much about him except what his handwriting looks like and his obsession with Slim Jim's and cinnamon gum. He taught me everything he knew semi-patiently and I was thankful for even that sliver of kindness from what appeared to be a stone hearted man. He was far from that though, as I was beginning to learn.

I could see it in the high fives he gave little kids and the way he held doors open for almost every one he served. He'd give them all respectful nods and a genuine smile, one I hoped to see given to me once in a while. I wondered if he was trying to mend the broken views that people had on him from rumors circulating around our small town. The only rumors I've heard were from the dishwashers; they were all teenagers, and somehow "knew" all of the towns gossip.

I overhear one of them plead that he is a drug dealer. Another chimes in saying a gang member. I don't believe either for a second, but there was definitely something up with him. The beat up hands and the black eye were odd, but what was even stranger is how his aunt seemed to ignore it, like it was a normal occurrence. It certainly wasn't my business, but I would be lying if I wasn't itching with curiosity.

I push a strand of hair that's fallen from the bun on the top of my head out of my face before lifting the serving board that held three plates full of breakfast. This was definitely something I had to get used to, but after two days my balance with it became much better.

I walk out into the dining area towards the table I've been serving, but stop dead in my tracks when I see it; when I see her.

I inhale sharply and drop the serving board, leaving the plates to shatter all across the floor along with once perfectly good food all around my feet. Life begins to move in slow motion, and for a second I swear I become deaf.

The room is silent, and it's just me and my mother locking eyes. Hers are dead and swimming with white clouds, and she is sitting at an empty booth with her mouth slightly hanging open. Her teeth are yellow, and her skin gray. Her hospital gown was torn and exposed her shoulder that was only hanging on to the bone by thin, rotting skin and flesh.

I feel hands on each of my arms, and suddenly I can hear again. I can focus again.

Roman covers the view of my mom and looks at me with raised brows, gently shaking me out of my trance.

"Hey." He says, and I meet his gaze. "Are you alright?"

I swallow hard and look down at my feet. My shoes were sticky with syrup and the floor was blanketed with scrambled eggs. I raise my gaze to my surroundings now, and really wish that I hadn't. Everyone's eyes were glued to me.

"I-um." I stutter, feeling my bones weaken again just as they were beginning to strengthen. The depressive feelings I held back also began to seep underneath my skin and into my flesh to build another home. Fuck.

I turn on my heel just as I feel a hot tear make an unwanted appearance down my cheek, and rush towards the back office that is usually dark and empty at this time when Brandi wasn't here. I rush in and press my back against the nearest wall, holding my hand against my chest as I took deep breaths. I tried to focus on the feeling of my heart beating, I tried counting each beat to distract myself from a panic attack that was just on the verge of happening.

Please not here. Please not now. I beg myself, as if I had any control over it.

"Callie." Roman comes through the door with a worried, yet confused look on his face.

"You really don't have to be embarrassed. I've done that more times than you could count when I first started serving." He tries to make me feel better, but little does he know it went way beyond that.

"I saw someone I didn't want to see." I whisper, just in case she is listening.

Roman's lips part and he cocks his head slightly. "Do I need to kick someone out?"

I snort unexpectedly and earn a small smile from him. Finally.

"No, no. She is gone." I reply and try my best to sound truthful. At this point I was not sure if she would ever truly be gone.

"She." Roman licks his lips and nods slowly before looking to his feet. "Can I ask you something?"

My anxiety boils. I hated that question. I swallow a forming lump in my throat and nod.

"I haven't mentioned it but, I remember before you applied I served you and Brandon." He says, causing me to instantly look back up at him. I had been fiddling with my fingernails and picking at my cuticles again.

"I assumed you had just forgot that was me."

"I don't forget easily."

I gnaw on the corner of my bottom lip so hard that I taste a hint of blood.

"Was there a question?" I ask, silently admiring how brave he was to continue looking deep into my eyes without as much as a blink. I tried to match the same energy, but I cowardly look away and focus on his lips instead. Eyes were so intimidating to me, especially Roman's.

"Forgive me if this is too forward-" he clears his throat. "But are you two a thing?"

I scoff and push past him out of the dark and stuffy office.

"What is this, high school?" I ask with blood filling my cheeks in embarrassment. I don't know what I was expecting him to ask, but it certainly was not that.

"Listen, I just moved back to town and he isn't really talking to me. I just want to know how he's doing from someone that knows him, like you clearly do."

I turn around and examine his features that I realize are stone hard and serious. His jaw is tensed and I can better see his eyes under the florescent lighting of the hallway that led to the kitchen. They were as dark as I remember them always being, chocolate brown to be exact with hints of other shades scattered all around. I could see caramel, umber, walnut, all of the shades of brown melted into one.

"Who are you to him?" I ask, curiosity lacing my voice. Perhaps an old friend..? No way. If that were the case, Brandon would have said something at the booth.

Roman scratches the back of his neck, showing the first bit of emotion I've seen from him. Nervousness.

"He didn't want me to tell you for some reason, but I'm not exactly one for listening." He shrugs the nervousness off like water off a ducks back. Simple, easy. I wish I could write off my feelings like that when they were unwanted.

"He's my younger brother. I'm just wanting to look out for him, he isn't the same kid I left years ago."

I laugh. That's it, I just laugh.

"You're kidding?"

"Not at all." Roman's lips are pressed in a thin line, while mine are parted in both confusion and shock. Why would Brandon keep that from me? What was the point?

"Last time I saw him he was happy and with his High School girlfriend. He always talked about her, it was nauseating." He says just as my heart drops into my stomach. I wasn't sure why I had that reaction, but for some reason the thought of his happiness being rooted by that woman was indeed nauseating.

"Fuck, sorry."

"Don't be" I mask my emotions with a forced smile.

"We met not long ago, he is just my friend."

Roman squints slightly, trying his hardest to read through me. It's probably working.

"Hm."

I look away from his once again hard gaze, feeling my cheeks burn with blood. I couldn't believe he lied about having a brother, more so though, I couldn't believe he was keeping him a secret from me. Why? What was the point?

"Him and, that girl you mentioned he was with, they recently broke up. So maybe that's why you see him so differently." I admit and lean against the wall of the tight hallway. I hadn't noticed until now, but we were much closer to each other.

Roman nods and sighs, pushing a wave of hair out of his eyes as I contemplate telling him why they were no longer together. He was just a concerned brother, and honestly, that might be just what Brandon needed right now. I know nothing of their relationship, but he seemed genuinely worried for the well-being of his sibling. It was crazy how they were related- age difference aside, they looked nothing alike.

"She cheated on him. I haven't known him long, but I think he loved her a lot." I say, mumbling "for some reason," under my breath afterward.

Roman unexpectedly scoffs after hearing my slide comment. "That explains the sulking. Good riddance, though." His eyes flick down to mine, and I stop breathing. I try to find a hint, even a small sliver of a feature from his face that resembled Brandon’s.

"Yeah." I agree with a small smile, finding absolutely nothing.

"Do you mind if I pick your brain about my sissy brother on break?"

I raise my brows, already surprised by how much he was talking, and now he wanted to spend his break with me. This man was a million different things, a surprise definitely being one of them.

"As long as I can pick yours back." I smile, hoping to hear about a young Brandon. Was this intruding on him? Should I have said no?

"I got a busboy to clean your mess. Follow me." Roman turns towards the exit door that led to the back of the restaurant, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his apron pocket as he held the door open for me. I follow hesitantly, holding my breath with each step I take.

He makes sure the door is securely closed and sits down on a nearby curb. We were right in the middle of an alleyway, a place I normally would avoid if I weren't with a man of his strength and build. His biceps were molded nicely even when covered by the fabric of his long sleeved shirt. He had tattoos cuffing his left wrist and I guessed that they wrapped all around his arm into a sleeve. I wish I could see them all, but all I could notice was black and gray blur.

He lights a cigarette and takes a puff. "Take a seat, I won't bite."

I chuckle, not believing him for a second. He looked like he would do more than bite. He looked like he could devour. But, I sit beside him anyways and take in the scent of tobacco and cinnamon gum each time he exhaled beside me.

+

He asked me questions mostly pertaining to Brandon's well being. I told him only what I knew- which I was beginning to learn was not much at all considering he lied about having an older brother that I would soon work with.

He puts out his last cigarette and stomps on it with his black boots towards the end of our thirty minute break that felt like only five. Between watching the way Roman talked about his family and his brother to the very way he looked sped up the time against my will. I grew to admire his voice quickly because I was used to him barely speaking. I took in his words as much as I could, for I had no idea if this day would be the last to open up to each other in the way that we were.

Like Brandon had told me, it was much easier to talk about things with strangers.

"Do you think he will be angry that you told me?" I ask, genuinely curious. I pick at the tips of the shoelaces of my black and white chucks as I await his answer.

Roman shakes his head. "No. If anything he might be embarrassed, but not angry. At least, not at you."

"So you think he will be angry at you?"

He chuckles and stands to his feet, lowering his hand and holding it out for me to grab. I hesitantly grasp his hand in mine and am unexpected pulled right against his chest. I swallow the thick air between us and bravely look into his eyes that have never left mine. His hand was still in mine, holding it gently.

"I can tell by the way he looked at you the other day that he likes you." Roman says just inches from my face. I open my mouth to reply, but no words form. What was happening to me right now?

"I will not be a rebound." I finally respond after a few moments of silence. He didn't mind the quietness between our questions- it was one thing I quickly admired about him. He gave me time to think and process his words patiently before answering, and I appreciated that. It was a rare trait.

"So you have feelings too."

"I'm not answering that. I haven't known him long enough, and he's mourning right now." I say, trying my best to keep my walls up.

"You're right, don't get me wrong." He says, leaning almost an inch closer to my face. I bravely stayed still, even though the smart part of me wanted to back away as far as possible. Too bad I wasn't exactly smart..

"Don't be his rebound. You shouldn't be anybody's rebound."

I inhale slowly as his eyes flick down to my lips. This man was giving me whiplash. One minute he's mean and doesn't want to bother training me, and the next he's almost pressed against me with his eyes focused on my lips. I could be imagining it, but I swear I could see something in his eyes when he looked at me. Something that I hoped to see in Brandon's gaze, but instead see in his damned older brother's.

"How old are you?" He asks, tearing me from my pathetic trance. I clear my throat.

"Twenty two."

"My brothers age." Roman chews the inside of his cheeks and looks away, leaving me unexpectedly missing the way his eyes would bore into mine with such intensity. I found myself wanting to ask him more questions about himself rather than Brandon. I hated that I had that thought, but it was there, and there was no erasing it. I wanted to ask about his scars and bruised eye. I wanted to ask about his tattoos and what they meant to him. I wanted to ask about his life and where he had been.

Curiosity gnawed at me as I looked down at his hands that were still wrapped in gauze.

"What is your middle name?" He asks me randomly. I pause to look up from his large hands to his Adam's apple, then to his lips that were a tad lighter than his sun kissed skin. Then finally, back to his eyes. He was so incredibly handsome, it was something I could no longer ignore. Him and his brothers genes were truly a gift from god.

"Jane.”

He smiles, lighting up the entirety of the alley thats trees were blocking the light of the sun. It didn’t need it though, it clearly only needed Roman’s smile. It was intoxicating; maybe because it was such a rarity.

“I like to know people’s middle names. More so than their last names.”

“And why is that?” I press, looking up at him through my lashes. I was being flirty- it felt odd, but it also felt so fucking right.

“It’s more personal, in a way. Everyone can hear your last name but rarely are you asked your middle name.”

“Why does it matter if it’s more personal? For me, at least? Why care about being personal with me?”

I watch his Adam’s apple slowly rise and fall with a single swallow he took, and finally think I’ve gotten him speechless until he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear with his callused fingers. I am now the one speechless.

“I’ve seen the way my brother looks at you. I simply wished to know why- but I see it now.”

I part my lips at his words, wanting to say something in protest.

“Your brother looks at me like a friend. That is all I will ever be, and that’s okay.”

“Is it?” He presses, leaning his face closer to mine. I want to devour his scent and lose myself in it- but that is my dreaded loneliness talking. He was older, and I will not lie in saying that I found it to be quite attractive along with his obvious good looks that his brother also inherited. His brother, though, I felt might be using me to cover up the mourning of the loss of his ex lover. The thought hurt, yes, but what was I to expect? It was a brand new breakup- I couldn’t expect for him to fall to his knees in front of me like one the romance novels I used to read. He needed to feel, he needed to heal.

“It will have to be.” I say to Roman, bravely looking into his eyes before slowly backing up. I already missed the smell of his breath and the warmth of his body that radiated onto mine in the chilly air; but I wouldn’t fall into stupid temptation if it would hurt Brandon.

I don’t know if Roman had the same intention that I was assuming he had, but the way he was looking at my lips told another story. And that was a story I would bookmark and save for another day, because I had other problems. One of which was still seated in the empty booth of the dining area.