The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara

Thirty-Two

I meet a few more of the regulars. Some come in for breakfast; some are here just for lunch. Celine knows each and every one of their names, their families, what they do. I’m at the ‘let’s make an effort and remember their first name’ level, so I have a way to go.

I’ve gotten to know Anna; she’s a painter. Her arms are covered in random colors, her clothes as well. This morning she came in with a blue streak on her forehead. Celine told her about it, but Anna didn’t seem to mind. She’s about my age and wears her long black hair in two braids and both yesterday and today she came in overalls. Celine told me she has a small gallery on Ocean Avenue. I might stop by one day. Watching her, I wish I could write again; she’d be the type of character I’d enjoy giving a happily ever after to.

For dinner, it’s just as crowded as yesterday, and Celine tells me starting tomorrow, it’ll get progressively busier by the day.

“Don’t even get me started on the Fourth of July,” she says. “You’ll see. It’s madness.”

I don’t want to contradict her or remind her it’s improbable that I’ll be working here in July. I’d rather not think about it and take one day at a time, which is a new concept for me.

We’re almost done with dinner and as I’m cleaning up a table, David calls again. It’s the fifth time today. I don’t want to do this. I should change my number or block him.

I’m a bit cranky because I feel like he’s pulling me back, just by insisting, and there’s nothing to pull me back to. I don’t understand why he doesn’t just move on. Celine must notice something is off, because she asks if I’m OK.

“I’m fine, sorry, it has nothing to do with you or the job. It’s complicated.”

“If you want to talk about it,” she says, “know that I’m good with complicated.”

Maybe I will. One day. Just not today.

We walk back together. Thanks to her jokes and generally upbeat disposition, my mood changes almost immediately. I’m worried a bit though. It’s been a full day, she hasn’t brought up her brother at all and because it’s been so busy at the café, we didn’t have time to chat. I have to ask her. I have to know.

“Let me get your room ready,” she says the moment we get to the house and disappears from the living room before I have the opportunity to respond.

I sit on the couch, not knowing what to do.

“All set. You can take your luggage into your room, change, make yourself at home.” She smiles. “Have you been sitting there since I left? Make yourself at home, just don’t leave the terrace doors open because Marcel has Houdini tendencies. Are you hungry?” she asks.

“Not really,” I say.

“You have to eat something. A fainting employee is of no use to me,” she says with a wink. “How about a cold-cut platter, wine and for entertainment, a movie?”

“You’re going out of your way to be the perfect host,” I say.

“At least for tonight,” she says with a big smile. “Want to make a good first impression.”

I laugh. “That sounds great.”

“I’ll get the food ready. If you want to change, shower, unpack, we have time. When you’re done, can you pick the movie? I have all the streaming apps you could possibly want.”

I laugh quietly.

“What can I say? I lead an exciting life. The remote is there,” she says and points toward the table in front of the couch.

I take my suitcases to my room. Celine has changed the sheets, and there’s a pleasant coconut smell in the air—I see the plug-in air freshener by the door. There’s a set of brand new towels on the side of the tub in my en-suite bathroom and everything is so clean and inviting.

I must repay Celine’s kindness somehow. You don’t often meet people like her.

I take a quick shower, change and leave the unpacking until later. I choose three movies: Love Affair from 1939, The Last Time I saw Paris from 1954 and A Star is Born from 1937. She goes for Love Affair, which is my first choice too. We’re at the part where Irene Dunne is on the couch and I remember that was one of my crazy scenarios. What if something happened to Max and that’s why he didn’t come, and he didn’t call? Alisa told me it was doubtful, and she was right. Nothing happened. He just chose not to show up.

Alisa texts me. No news from me. Yet. How was your first day?

Good. Long. My feet hurt.

What are you doing?

Just finished dinner and now watching a movie.

Alone?

With Celine.

Aha. No news?

Not yet. Didn’t want to be too obvious and ask her anything just yet.

But you know you have to, right? Alrighty. Night night.

Both Celine and I cry at the end of the movie. We all have baggage, and as we grow older, it gets heavier. I wonder what her baggage is and why is someone like her single? She’s beautiful, kind, smart, successful. Compared to her, I’m a failure. A work in progress, as my mother says. I’ve been a work in progress for as long as I can remember.