Starting Over

This story is by T.M. (Maureen) Duffy and was part of our 2024 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

 

“Don’t come back!” The door slammed hard in her face leaving her shaking on the porch.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, as she pounded her fist against it. “I promise it will never happen again.”

The porch light flicked off. She watched as the blinds in the living room closed and the house plunged into darkness.

There was no coming back from it. No second chance.

Abandonment and betrayal had always followed her, and each scar marked her body like a roadmap that told of the hardship she’d faced in her young life.

Orphaned at fifteen, Erin went into the ‘system’ and bounced from foster home to foster home until she aged out at eighteen.

Tonight was the culmination of bad decisions. She knew that now.

As she stepped from the porch, she pulled her red cardigan tighter around her body as a deep sadness overtook her and threatened to swallow her whole.

Alone again.

Abandoned.

***

Across the road, an old woman stood under the light of a lamppost. Erin never noticed that she was shadowing her from a few feet behind on the opposite side of the street.

The street was empty, and a cold wind picked up as Erin rounded the corner and saw the light of the Serendipity Café blinking in the distance like a lighthouse beckoning her forward.

A minute later, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

There was a peaceful serenity to the place and the smell of fresh baked scones and perked coffee pulled at her insides. It took her back to happier times when she was a child, and she had come home from school to her mother baking in the kitchen. She was happy then. She had a family. A place where she belonged.

***

The old woman watched Erin enter the front of the café. She slipped around back and entered through the rear entrance, removed her coat, pulled on a plaid apron and made her way to the front counter. A smile crossed her face. “Can I help you, love?”

Erin looked up; her eyes swollen from tears. She struggled to speak.

The woman’s face narrowed. “What is it, child?” she said more fervently.

“I…I.” Words failed her.

The woman came around from the back of the counter and rested her hand on Erin’s. “Come and sit with me for awhile,” she said, her voice more commanding. She pointed to a table in the far back corner.

Two green and black tartan wing chairs sat opposite one another separated by an oval table. A large red burning candle sat in the middle, its flame flickering. A hint of cinnamon permeated the air.

Erin felt the weight of her body sink into the chair as a wave of nausea passed through her. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, buried her face into her trembling hands and wept.

The old woman watched in silence.

A minute passed before Erin looked up and said, “I feel so alone.”

“Why, my child?” the woman said.

She bit her lip. There was a frailness to her, an innocence, making her appear much younger than their stated years. “I betrayed my friends.”

The woman’s eyebrows furrowed. “How so?”

“They trusted me to keep their secret, keep silent about what I saw.”

A beat passed before the woman spoke. “What did you see?”

Erin’s cheeks flushed and her voice rose a tone. “If I tell you, I’d be betraying them all over again.” She wrung her hands together as tears sprung from the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

The woman got up, went behind the counter, poured two cups of coffee and returned to place them on the table. A sigh escaped from her lips as she picked up her cup and took a half-dozen sips before she spoke. “Drink,” she said forcefully to Erin.

Erin wrapped her fingers tightly around the mug and brought it up to her mouth and drank. Each sip soothed her, and her body tingled as the mixture rolled down her esophagus and settled in the pit of her stomach. A swirling, giddy light-headedness engulfed her as she hungrily took more sips in rapid succession.

The old woman nodded and said, “Feel better?”

Her shoulders slackened. “What’s in this coffee?” she said. “It’s delicious.”

A chuckle escaped from the old woman’s lips. “My homemade special brew,” she said with a wink. “Made to soothe the soul.”

Erin stared back at her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something oddly familiar and comforting about the woman. Her defences slowly fell like scales around her. “I don’t usually trust strangers,” she said, sweeping her hand in front of her, “But for some reason, I feel safe here.”

“Aye,” said the woman, as she smiled back at her.

She held the women’s gaze for several seconds before speaking. “I don’t know how to start again?” she said, words tumbling from her mouth. “They were the only people I trusted since my parents’ death.”

The old woman moved forward in her chair. “I see. But it’s no longer about them,” she said gently. “It’s about trusting yourself.”

Erin’s face twisted. “Myself? I don’t understand.”

“You blame yourself for letting ‘them’ down. For doing something to ‘them’.”

“But I betrayed their confidence.”

“No, my dear, you didn’t. When asked by the authorities, you simply told the truth.”

“But I should have stayed quiet. Said nothing to the police.”

The old woman shook her head. “Your friends control their own actions. Their path, their decisions are theirs, not yours. If you are guilty of anything is that you put your trust in the wrong people.”

“But they took me in when I needed a place to stay.”

The woman’s voice rose a tone. “And you, in turn, chose to ignore the warning signs of who these people really were. They were drug dealers and users of people.”

Erin gasped. “How do you know this?”

Her voice softened. “I know many things, Erin. I have been around a very long time.”

Silence passed between them for a moment before the old woman continued. “Like all of us, you are on a journey, Erin. And sometimes on that journey, we make mistakes, lose our way.” She shifted forward in her chair and kept her eyes firmly fixed on Erin. “But the truth is that the mistakes we make, the wrong turns we make, these are the paths that teach us. We have choices and decisions to make each time. Forgiveness and compassion for others is important, but it’s just as important that we have compassion and forgiveness for ourselves.”

Shaking her head, Erin whispered, “I just don’t know anymore.”

The woman waited a moment before she continued. “Second chances don’t come from others. They are the choices we make to forgive ourselves and to start over again.”

Erin took long sips of the woman’s coffee, and let her words wash over her. When her cup was almost empty, she glanced back at the old woman and watched as her face morphed into that of her mother’s. Fear rippled through her. “I don’t understand. What’s happening to me? To you?”

She heard the old woman’s voice in her ear. “Look around, my child,” she said. “This is the Serendipity Café.”

Erin scanned the Café. A soft white light hung over it. A shiver ran down her spine, and she felt her heart swell with an unexpected warmth. Her eyes locked on a plaque that hung just inside the front door. It read: “Welcome to The Serendipity Café. The place where events occur by chance in a happy or beneficial way.”

A broad smile crossed her mother’s face. “This is the place that you, and others, come to in search of answers and peace. You have manifested what you needed here tonight from within yourself.”

Her mouth quivered, “I did this?”

A soft laugh escaped from her mother’s mouth and her eyes danced. “Yes, but my wise old friend’s brew might have given you a little nudge to get you there.”

Tumblers clicked inside her head as she began to see things clearer. She tasted the remnants of the old woman’s coffee on her tongue, and a peaceful serenity passed through her.

Her mother’s voice softened. “Know that you are never alone, Erin. Everything you need is inside yourself.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, but Erin remained silent and listened.

“I’m always here, watching over you. Trust,” her mother said. “Trust yourself, your intuition to guide you forward.”

Erin took in a breath, feeling her mother’s love wrap its arms around her. She finally understood that whatever the future held for her, she was going to be okay. She raised her mug to her mother and said, “To starting over.”

Her mother smiled back at her, eyes glistening, “To second chances.”