Chapter 5: Move On
Leigha awoke to a muffled zhht… zhht. Her phone vibrated atop the stack of cardboard boxes. The beer sign flashed once more across her mind like one of those songs you just can’t get out of your head. She gave a half-smile, refused to glance at her alerting phone, and focused a few minutes to reflect on God. That morning allotment provided her with encouragement and strength to persevere through another pull yourself up by the bootstrap day.
Cardboard boxes and two rolls of tape were stacked at the end of her bed. They mocked her reluctance to finish the job. With fresh resolve, tomorrow would be Decision Day… her next. Options ran races in her head; she felt too fuzzy to decide where to live. Maybe, a coffeehouse 2.0?
Yesterday her packing process began. The assorted box of nails and tacks were arranged by size and compartment. She was annoyed with herself over the obsession, but she couldn’t resist the sorting and arranging. Leigha had grouped the candles together for packing and arranged them by height, then by color, then by width. Similarly, books by size, towels by color. There the organized arrangements sat- in heaps and stacks… scorning the wrapping tissue and empty boxes. She sat on the edge of the bed, disgusted with herself, and whispered, What is wrong with me?
Leigha reached for her phone for the fifth time and pulled back once again. Online studies needed to be caught up, a perfect distraction. She had a longstanding habit of immersing deeply in analytic research. She considered if she sat at the laptop to begin, soon the room would grow dim for the time had waned- her day sunk into the research studies rabbit hole. On one hand, research progress, but on the other, coffeehouse closure tasks and moving decisions pushed urgently. She smirked and nodded in self agreement.
Clutching her robe at the top button, her eyes rested at the paperwork on the table. Best to push through and finish the all-consuming insurance property loss form, which she feared the lack of patience to complete. Through her restless night, her insurance decision was made. Leigha took a slow, full, clean breath. The sticky burden lifted from her shoulders, and that single decision transported her numb brain from static black and white into full color. Her world was inching into clearer focus once again.
A sturdy cup of coffee pressed urgently at her brain. She scooted her slippers on and headed down to the coffeehouse kitchen. She snatched her phone with the challenge to return texts while the brew perked- then back to the insurance paperwork. With the aroma of coffee brewing, her thoughts diverted to that night. The smell of coffee immediately turned to the acrid smell of smoke. The image of the burning car, the sound of glass breaking, car alarms, and the sight of ginned-up angry people passed swiftly through her mind. She closed her eyes and clutched the cuffs of her robe until nausea abated.
Leigha walked toward the kitchen door. Thankfully, that door latch Leigha now grasped had stopped the angry surge. She only allowed a tear or two, promising herself that when the coffee pot beeped done, her grief was also done for the day. She flipped the kitchen door lock to steal another glance into the now dim coffeehouse.
The kitchen light reflected on the broken glass with plywood backing. The partial word “sand…” still clung in memory of her coffeehouse name. She clutched her phone tightly and considered a photo… or should she let that memory die along with her hopes and dreams of this place? The beep from the coffee pot brought her back to the task at hand. She snapped the picture, dried her tears, re-locked the door, and whispered, Move on, Leigha.
