Where We Found Our Home by Natasha Bishop

 

Ciara

After my nap yesterday, I spent the rest of the day unpacking. Once I got started, it was easy to get everything put away. It’s not like there was much to unpack. Just my clothes, toiletries, kitchen supplies, my laptop, some photos, and my books.

My couch, bed, and TV are all supposed to be delivered tomorrow, so I decided today I would explore my new city. I haven’t written anything for my book in two weeks, so hopefully some good old-fashioned people watching will inspire me. I throw on a red T-shirt bodysuit, jean shorts, and my red Chucks. I grab my laptop bag and go through my normal security routine before heading out.

I live in downtown Austin, so there are a lot of places around me, but I don’t feel comfortable walking around the city alone so I‘m going to drive. I probably won’t go far, but I’d rather have my car close to me in case I need to make a getaway. My first stop is 2nd Street District. When I first decided to move here, all my Google searches said that 2nd Street District had everything you could possibly need from retail to restaurants and entertainment. Google was not wrong. This place is incredible. I’ve already discovered a few restaurants I want to try and a few clothing stores where I know I can get into a lot of trouble.

I’m observing a statue of Willie Nelson when the smell of fresh baked goods draws me to a small coffee shop called Sasha’s. My nose tells me I need to go in there. The outside has a modern feel to it, but the inside is bursting with color. The walls, the counter, and the tables are a sleek white, but the chairs are all bright colors. It looks like a rainbow threw up, but…it works. Everything flows together beautifully. I feel immediately relaxed and happy being here.

There are a few people scattered throughout the shop, but none of them are paying me any attention. I like it here. A little girl is perched at one of the hightops coloring, in her own little world.

Behind the counter, there’s a gorgeous black woman who eyes me curiously. Her hair is in a big, wild, curly fro that I envy. She has on white jeans with a striped, multicolored shirtdress and large gold hoop earrings. There’s a tall white woman working with her. She’s wearing her chestnut hair in a messy bun, sporting blue jeans with a bright yellow racerback tank top, and is busy making some sort of latte.

I walk up to the counter, and the black woman greets me with a warm smile. “Hi there, welcome to Sasha’s. I’m Sasha.” I’m not surprised given that her colorful outfit matches the aesthetic of the whole place. I wonder if wearing bright colors is required for all employees. “What can I get for you?”

I take a quick look at the menu. “Hi, Sasha, can I have a large caramel brûlée macchiato, please?”

“No problem. Is that for here or to go?”

“Here, please.” This is as good a place as any to try to get some writing done.

I pay for my drink, and Sasha tells me to pick a seat and she’ll bring it over. I decide to sit at one of the booths so I’ll have enough room to spread out. I pull out my laptop and bend down to plug it into the outlet. When I come back up, I nearly trip Sasha and then marvel at the fact that the macchiato is in an actual mug instead of a paper cup. That’s adorable.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Here’s your macchiato. I’m not sure if you like it or have any allergies, but I brought you over a banana nut muffin too. You looked like you could use an extra pick-me-up.”

Holy shit, how did she guess my favorite muffin? And why is she so nice? It unnerves me.

Calm down. Some people are just nice. Don’t make it weird.

“Wow, that’s so nice of you. I love banana nut. Thanks.”

“No problem. You new around here?”

Oh Lord. That question again. It makes me uncomfortable but not in the same way my creepy neighbor did. Sasha seems like one of those women that if you aren’t careful, she can get you to spill all your secrets. She’s one of those people you just want to share with. I don’t need that in my life right now.

“How’d you know?” What? Why did I say that? Don’t engage. See, this is exactly what I mean.

“You just seem…never mind.” Now she has my attention.

“Wait, just seem what?” She looks in my eyes, and I don’t see pity, but there’s understanding there.

“Lost.” Damn. Yeah, definitely can’t come back here. She’s another Brittany, seeing too much. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I want her to leave me alone, but for some reason I also want to reassure her. “No, it’s fine. I am new here. This is my second day in town.”

I wait for her to ask where I moved from and try to figure out how I’ll deflect that question or what lie I’ll tell, but to my surprise and delight that question never comes. “Well, welcome to Austin! I don’t know if you live around here. If so, you’ve probably already seen that there’s a lot to do downtown, but even if you go farther away from the city, there’s still so much to do and see. I think you’ll like it.”

My grin grows at the fact that she didn’t ask where exactly I live. She seems to pick up that I’m uncomfortable answering personal questions so she doesn’t push, but she’s still sweet. I didn’t even realize my shoulders had tensed up, but they relax the more she speaks.

“Thank you so much. I’m loving it so far.” Just then, the little girl I saw coloring walks over to us. Now that I really look at her, I’m positive that she’s Sasha’s daughter. She has the same curly hair—though hers is lighter than her mom’s—the same brown eyes, and the same smile. She looks to be around five, and she makes my ovaries hurt.

Kids are probably not in your future at this rate.

Thank you for the reminder. Jackass.

“Mommy, you making a new friend already?” Oh my goodness, her cuteness goes up three notches right then. Her voice is the epitome of innocence.

Sasha laughs and hugs her daughter. “Let me live, little girl.” She turns to me. “She’s always inserting herself into my conversations. This is my daughter, Nevaeh. Nevaeh, this is…I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

Deep breath. “Ciara.”

“This is Ciara.”

“Pretty name.” Nevaeh smiles.

“Thank you. Yours is pretty too.” She beams at the compliment.

“Alright, well, we’ll leave you to enjoy your treats and your work. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I really appreciate it, Sasha. Nice meeting you, Nevaeh.” Nevaeh waves at me, and Sasha smiles as she leads her daughter back to her table.

I feel immediately comfortable with Sasha and Nevaeh, and that makes me anxious. I can’t afford to get close to anyone here. I need to keep to myself. As much as I love the vibe of this coffee shop, I can’t come back here.

I’m the worst. The absolute fucking worst. It’s been two weeks and my ass has been going to Sasha’s shop every single day.

I walk in, catch up with Sasha and Nevaeh, grab a macchiato, sample a different pastry each visit—though the banana nut muffin has remained my favorite—and sit in a booth to write more of my novel. The words come to me easily there.

I write thrillers, which is funny to me when I think about what I’ve been through, but it’s what I’ve always wanted to write. To put it bluntly, murders fascinate me. I’ve watched Unsolved Mysteries and everything on the ID channel since I was a kid. We’ve all had someone or something bother us to the point where we thought we would snap, but exploring what pushes a person to the breaking point where they actually take a life is fascinating. Exploring the mindset of a person so cold and calculating that they can take a life without remorse both unnerves and excites me. It’s why I’ve tried, to no avail, to understand what makes the source of my nightmares tick. With everything that’s happened in my life in the last couple of years, writing my debut novel feels cathartic. I’m in control of the terror. I control the unease. I know when the bad guy is coming. I control who dies and when. I control the outcome. I need this control. I’m clinging to it with every fiber of my being.

I always wanted to be an author, but working a full-time job stole my spark for writing. I was too tired or annoyed at the end of the day to write. Now that I’ve received the settlement from my accident, I have more than enough savings so I can take the risk of not working and focus on trying to put my debut novel out there. When I spoke to my mom yesterday, she asked if I’d be trying to get a job soon as she worried I’d go stir-crazy without one. I’ve always had a job since I was sixteen, so I understand her concern, but right now this is what I need to do for my mental health. The days are starting to blend together for me though. I’ll probably end up finding a part-time job to give me something to do and have income coming in—but I don’t need to just yet.

“What are you up to for the rest of the day?” Sasha asks, interrupting my thoughts. I really have no idea what I’m thinking about by building a friendship with this woman and her daughter. I guess if I keep it to surface level interactions here at the coffee shop, it’s fine. It’s not like we’ve exchanged numbers and are talking outside of my daily visits.

But if they get caught up in your drama and something happens to them, you’ll never forgive yourself.

Ugh. Enough already. I can’t keep living like this. It’s okay to talk to people. I just need to keep my distance.

“Umm, I’m probably just going to go home, honestly,” I reply as I start packing up my laptop.

“That’s what you say every day.”

“Not true. The other day, I went to Randalls when I left here.” Yes, Randalls is a grocery store. But it’s still going out. If it’s not the grocery store or Sasha’s, I’m not going. I talked a good game about exploring my new city, but I’ve done none of that. I haven’t even gone out shopping for stuff to put in my apartment. Online shopping is my friend.

Sasha smirks. “The grocery store doesn’t count. You need to be exploring more. How old are you?”

Deep breath. “Twenty-eight.”

“Yeah, you see. You’re younger than I am. You need to be going out to bars or clubs or anything more than going to a coffee shop and then home every day.”

She has no idea what she’s asking me to do, and she probably never will.

“Yeah, I know, I know. How about this—I’m going to go across the street to that boutique and get myself a cute outfit.” It’s only around two p.m. I can do this.

“Perfect. A going out outfit maybe.”

Going out. Ha. Funny. Yeah, I’ll go out. Out of my bedroom to my couch. “Maybe.”

Sasha smirks again with those knowing eyes. I grab the rest of my stuff and get out of there before she can dig deeper. I wave bye to Nevaeh and head across the street to the boutique.

I end up buying a cute maxi dress. It’s multicolored, so Sasha would probably approve. Walking out of the store, a little girl who has her face buried in a tablet bumps into me.

“Sorry!” the little girl yelps.

“It’s okay. No problem, sweetie.” I go to move around her when she looks up at me again.

“You’re really pretty.”

Are all the kids in this city so stinking cute?

“Aww, thank you.”

The little girl smiles at me and considers her next words carefully. “You’re welcome. My dad’s girlfriend is really pretty too, but my mom doesn’t like her because she said my dad cheated with her.”

A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. Kids are always spilling their parents’ tea. “Ohh okay, well, I’m sorry.” That’s all I can manage without laughing again.

Just then a woman who must be her mother runs over to us. She looks heated and embarrassed, so I’m guessing she heard her daughter’s comment. “Candice! What did I tell you about running your mouth to strangers?”

“Sorry, Mommy.”

“Girl, just stand here out of people’s way and wait for me. I just need to pick up our food real quick.” The girl moves over to the bench by the curb and goes back to her tablet while her mom goes back inside the carryout spot.

A minute later, a black Mazda going way too fast comes up the hill racing toward us. The car swerves a few times unnecessarily, and my back stiffens. The thought of an impaired driver gives me chills, and I’m frozen in the past until I realize the car has completely veered to the side and is probably going to jump the curb. Right into Candice.

“Candice!” I scream, but she’s so caught up in her tablet she ignores me. I look over to her mom, but she’s deep in conversation with the cashier.

Shit.

My feet take off before my mind catches up. I have to get her out of the way. She’s just a little girl. She has her whole life ahead of her. I’ve escaped death a few times already, and maybe I’ll be lucky again.

The car’s getting closer, and people are finally starting to register what’s happening, but nobody has noticed Candice right in the car’s path. I reach Candice as the car’s headlights momentarily blind me.

This is gonna hurt.

Then everything goes black.