Shadows In The Mirror. Linda Hall

I admitted it to myself, just the teensiest bit afraid. I was getting closer to my parents and I was afraid, just a little, of what I might find when I got there.

      “Hey, while you were gone, I…” Barbara began. At the same time the door jangled signifying an incoming customer and for one horrid moment I thought it was Evan. I clasped my hand to my mouth, but the thin little man who entered was nothing like Evan. Barbara recognized him from her knitting club and introduced us. They wandered over to the yarn supplies and I made my way to the back room, the picture of my parents in my hand. I shoved it inside the phone book. I took two deep breaths and came out into my store again.

      While Barbara rang up yarn and needles for her knitting compatriot, I waited on two customers, a mother and daughter who inquired about crocheting classes and ended up buying bits and pieces of ribbon and some paper and glue for a scrapbook they were making about their dog.

      I waited on customers, straightened shelves and listened to Barbara talk about her sons, all the while looking at the door. Wondering if Evan would come back.

      “Hey,” I could hear him say. “You left and took the picture.”

      “I know, I know,” I would say. “I’m sorry about running off. Let me get the photo for you.” And I would, and then we’d end up going to dinner. And getting married and living happily ever after.

      No. Not going to happen.

      When I finally ascended the stairs to my apartment, my phone message light was blinking. Three messages. I pressed the button.

      “Marylee? Evan here…” I sat down on my kitchen chair and caught my breath. “I’m sorry if something I said upset you when we were having coffee earlier. I certainly didn’t mean to.”

      The second was also from him. “Sorry about the second phone call here, but if you still want me to help with the photo, I will. I would be happy to even if we don’t have dinner. If you want to come by with the photo again, I’ll take another look at it.”

      The third message was from my security company. I called the number they left and through a series of voice-mail prompts, I ended up having to plug in my current security password code. I thought that was a bit odd, but complied. This was the second time they’d called wanting this information. I’d given it the first time. But I trusted them. They were a good security company and came highly recommended.

      After I erased the messages, I decided I needed to talk with Johanna. She was my best friend and deserved to know that Evan had asked me to dinner. It was only fair, right? I called her, and breathed with relief when she didn’t answer. I hung up without leaving a message.