Horns

chapter one

I awaken by the feeling of someone shaking me. My eyelids flutter open and Katie’s worried face welcomes me.

“Oh God―I thought you weren’t going to wake up,” she sags against the wall near my bed, sighing in relief, “you had me so worried.”

“Katie? What’s going on?” I croak. I try to clear my throat. There is an overwhelming need to drink water that screams out to me.

“You were lying so still,” she gapes at me, already starting to tear up, “and your skin―it was cold. I honestly thought you were dead until I pressed my ear to your chest. I–I heard the slightest hint of a heartbeat. I knew I had to wake you up.”

I blink as the bright lights streaming in from the window momentarily blinds me. “How long have you been trying to wake me?”

“Two minutes,” she says with a sigh. Then she stands up. “Are you okay now? Do you want anything?”

“Water,” I answer briefly, “just water, please.”

Katie nods and briskly walks out of my room. I sit up, groaning in pain and grasping my head in my hands -it’s pounding, something that resembles a hangover. Weird―I don’t remember drinking last night. All I recall is waking up to the sound of my door closing and everything else is a blur. What the hell happened to me?

Katie returns with a glass of water in her hand. She walks over to me and sits on the edge of my bed, handing me the glass. I accept it gingerly. When I finish, she takes the glass from me and places it on the bedside table. I feel so much better now, refreshed, although my body still aches everywhere, especially my back.

“What time is it?” I ask her.

She glances at her wristwatch and says, “Quarter to seven.”

“Shoot,” I hiss, abruptly standing up. I stumble a little bit at the suddenness of my movements. Katie grabs me by the arms, a worried expression marring her face yet again. I nod at her. “I got it.”

 “You’re not going to work today.”

“I am,” I step into the bathroom and she follows suit, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m going to be late if I don’t get there in time.” I start brushing my teeth.

“You’re not going,” she folds her arms, “not after what happened to you.” I don’t even know what is happening to me, I want to say but decide against it.

“Katie,” I look at her through the mirror, “it’s probably just the stress. It’s nothing to worry about.” I try to reassure her. I splash water on my face and dry it with a towel.

She brings a finger up as if proving a point. “Stress that your job gives you,” she admonishes.

I apply mascara on my eyelashes, swipe the maroon lipstick on my lips and pinch my cheeks. “I work in a coffee shop, Katie, believe me, the last thing it brings is stress. I meant stress I’m going through every day.”

She looks at me incredulously. “You’re not going to let me stop you, aren’t you?”

“Me working means we have something to eat every day and you having your daily allowance,” I turn around and grasp her face between my hands, “I’m your big sister, Katie. You’re my responsibility.” I pull away and walk towards my dresser, grabbing the first thing I could see which consisted of a black shirt, acid-washed jeans, and sneakers.

“Fine, but I’m going to come to get you after class.”

“Sure,” I smile at her. I grab my bag and keys, in a rush to get out of our house. “I’ll see you later. Take care,” I call out to Katie.

I head out and walk towards our car, a navy blue Toyota Corolla. I climb in and push my keys into the ignition, pull out of the driveway and drive towards Cindy’s―the coffee shop I’m working in. My mind briefly wanders to what had happened last night. I couldn’t remember anything, which is weird. I have never had those kinds of nights. When I’d been involved with the wrong crowd back then, partying and drinking all night hadn’t been a problem for me. There never were hangovers nor blackouts.  And the thing is, I didn’t even drink last night. So what the hell really happened? Had I been drugged?

I slam on the brakes just in time as an elderly woman crossed the street. The tires screech at the sudden stop. “Oh my God!” I gasp. Other drivers behind me honk their horns simultaneously to show their disapproval. A couple of drivers behind yell at me about focusing on the road. The old lady turns to look at me and brings her middle finger up. Any other day and I would’ve laughed at the absurdity of her reaction but my heart - my heart was through the roof. I’d almost killed someone. I place my fist to my chest and press in a circular motion, trying to calm my heart down. How had I not noticed the light turn red?

After the lady had safely crossed and I had managed to slightly calm myself down, I continue to drive slowly down to Cindy’s. My mind still racing, refusing to believe what just happened. Minutes later, I pull up at the carpark in front of the coffee shop. My eyes pass by a guy in black everything―shirt, jeans, shoes, hair, leaning against a black car which I assume is his. I shrug him off and jump out of the car, lock the door, and head inside.

Samantha, the thirty-something-year-old daughter of the owner, shoots me with a disapproving look. I give her a shrug and mouth a quick apology.” She shakes her head and busies herself with the table she’s serving. I immediately walk to the back and wear my apron, and go behind the counter. I pin my nametag in place and greet the first customer with a warm smile which I hope does not look like a grimace

Five more people after and I feel my body going weak. I hold on to the counter to keep my balance. A guy then comes up.

“You look bad,” he comments. I bite the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from giving out a retort that would surely get me fired.

“Must be the stress catching up to me,” I smile weakly.

He c***s his head to the side. “Are you sure it’s not because of last night’s events? Or this morning’s run-in with that old lady?”

“What?” I freeze. “How do you know about that?”

He ignores me and runs his fingers through his dark hair. “I’ll have a mocha frappe with extra whip cream on top please.” I’m still staring at him, confused as to how he would know.

Last night? I don’t even remember anything about that. How could he? “Sage?”

I jerk up. “How do you know my name?”

He looks amused, then he points at my chest. I look down. Oh – my nametag. Stupid, Sage, stupid. “About my mocha frappe?” His grey eyes are full of mischief.

“Oh―yes, of course. What name should we call?”

He hands me a bill. “Slaign. Call me Slaign.”

I snap out of my daze and try to act casual. “I’m sorry, can you spell that out for me please?”

“S―L―A―I―G―N,” he says slowly.

“Perfect,” I say absentmindedly, “just go find a seat and we’ll call you.”

He nods and leaves, sitting in the booth closest to the counter. I take my eyes off of him and accommodate the next customer. I smile awkwardly and greet her a good morning.

“Mocha frappe for Slaign,” I call out. He stands up from his seat and walks towards me, taking his drink. He tips it as a small thank you and goes back to his booth. I stare at him. He’s awfully familiar. Like I’ve seen him before, I just couldn’t quite place my finger on it. Maybe we went to the same high school? No, that couldn’t be it. I shake my head and try to focus on working.

Samantha makes her way towards me. “You’re off cashier duty. Go clean the mess on table number twelve.” Then she disappears into the back.

I take the cleaning kit under the counter and strap it to my waist. I pick up the big container and head to table twelve, the one beside Slaign’s. I start piling up the plates and placing the plastic cups inside the container.

“Sage,” I turn around and see Slaign looking at me. “What time do you get off?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What time do you get off?” he says the words slowly this time, as if speaking to a child. I flush unexpectedly.

“May I ask why?” I try my hardest to be polite.

He looks amused, a small smirk crosses his face. “Does it matter why?”

I look down, busying myself with the task at hand. “I’m sorry but management policies don’t allow us to disclose our schedules.”

“I’ll wait for you, then,” he leans back in his seat, crossing his legs.

I frown at him. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do I know you? I believe I’ve seen you before but I can’t place where and when. And please, do not wait for me to finish.”

“You do,” he answers simply, “in fact, we met last night.”

“Last night?” My eyebrows rise in question. Did I meet him last night? “That’s impossible. I went straight home after work.”

 “We met last night,” he says firmly now. A sudden need to believe him courses through me. I study him, trying to look for a sign, either that he is one heck of a liar or that we really did meet last night.

“What happened?” I place my hands on my hips, goading him.

“Sage!” Samantha calls. “Come here and run to the store for me.” She waves a white lengthwise-cut bond paper with scribbles on it. I give Slaign a look.

“We’re not done,” I mutter.

“Far from it,” he gazes at me intensely and I involuntarily shiver.

“It’s just the beginning, Sage.”

I give him one last look before rushing to get to Samantha “I need this in two hours, okay? Be quick. They’re really important.” I nod and scan down the list. They’re groceries. She’s asking me to pick up groceries? I go against my first instinct to question her. I need to get into her good graces again. So, I remove my apron and take my keys, heading out front to my car.