The Downpour
CHAPTER 1
Ellie's POV
Hssssssss.
The espresso wand sounded like a scream.
I gripped the metal pitcher, my knuckles turning white as steam billowed upward, clouding my vision. To the people at The Lighthouse Café, it was just another Saturday morning. To me, it felt like another battle needing to be won.
Clank. A metal spoon hit the floor like shrapnel.
Whirrrrr. An electric grinder roared to life, as it began pulverizing roasted Robusta beans to dust.
"Iced Spanish Latte for Marcus? Spanish Latte for Marcus!" Maya called out. Her voice felt like a sharp staccato burst of gunfire piercing my eardrums. I set the metal pitcher down with a clumsy thud, the half-frothed milk sloshing at the sides. The walls of the café started to tilt as the edges of my vision frayed into a dark, static blur.
"Surprise!" I heard a voice exclaim.
A man near the window thrust a bouquet of red roses into a woman's face.
Right. It's February 14th. Valentine's Day.
A dull, throbbing ache bloomed in my chest and I clutched the rough fabric of my apron as if doing so could hold my heart together.
"Ellie? Are you okay?"
I didn't answer. I yanked the black canvas apron over my head, dropped it at the counter in a crumpled heap, and bolted through a door marked Authorized Personnel Only.
I went into our private restroom and slammed the lock. Click.
I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face. I gripped the porcelain edges of the sink, hoping the steady roar of water could drown out my innermost thoughts.
I looked up to reluctantly meet the eyes of the stranger in the mirror. Her hair was a chaotic mess, framing a once radiant face that had been replaced by hallowed cheeks and sunken eyes. I looked terrible; like a soldier who had been fighting an endless war for a country that no longer exists.
Tears threatened to fall from my eyes.
No. Not here. Not today.
But the silence of the room only made the memories louder.
Two years ago, I answered a call in this very café. My hands trembled, and the world turned gray as a stranger's voice greeted me with a stream of words that didn't seem to make sense.
"...accident...gone...I'm sorry."
Aaron Simmons was my home. His gentle eyes, a warm sweet smile. It was a fated encounter between two people who attended the same university five years apart, only to be brought together by the mischievous prodding of a mutual friend.
I looked down at the pale, thin band of gold on my ring finger. The ring has lost its luster, and with its edges worn down, it became a quiet reminder of my life that has been reduced to ash and rubble.
"Ellie? I know you're in there. Knock twice if you haven't fallen into the toilet."
It was Maya. Of all my staff, she was the only person who dared to use humor against my grief. I wiped my face with a paper towel, took a deep breath, and unlocked the door.
"Can't a woman have some peace and quiet?" I teased, though the words felt heavy on my mouth.
"Not in this café you're not," she retorted, her hands on her hips. She gave me a knowing look.
"I'm fine, Maya. Really," I mumbled, as I took a step back, avoiding her gaze. I turned on my heel to retreat back to the café counter. She reached out, gently touching my arm.
"You can leave, you know," she said reassuringly. "We've got this under control."
"Thanks, Maya," I replied, my voice barely a whisper. "But I'd rather be stuck here than in the deafening silence of my own house."
