The bells over the door jingled as I walked into the sunny bakery.
The floor was light blue tile and the tables were all white with mismatched chairs and it somehow brought the entire room together. The counters and the brick behind them were a bright yellow.
The smell almost brought me to my knees. I could remember watching Mackenna practice baking and cooking in her kitchen and being surrounded by the sweet smells that she would create. It was like stepping right into some of my high school memories.
The door that led to the kitchen opened and a woman with long brown hair stepped through it, carrying a tray of pastries.
“Just in time! These came out of the...”
She froze in the doorway as she spotted me standing, unsure, by the door. After a few moments of silence, I decided to break it.
“Hey...”
“Liz?” Mackenna whispered.
“Hey, Mac.”
I jumped when Mackenna screamed, dropping the tray that was full of pastries directly on the ground.
She ran around the counter, rushing to me like she thought I would disappear if she took her time.
I missed the feeling of being in my best friend’s arms. The last time I saw her was when I came to North Hills for her mom’s funeral five years ago, not exactly a favorable moment.
“I’m sorry that I never returned your calls,” I whispered.
“Shush, that doesn’t matter,” Mac said, waving away my concern.
“Where’s—” Another woman came rushing into the room from the same door that Mac had come from and interrupted her.
“What’s going on? Is someone dying?” She had a crazy look in her eyes as she glanced around at the empty tables. Her eyes narrowed when they settled back on Mac. “Who the hell screams like that? You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Mac just ignored her questions. “It’s Liz! She’s back!”
Familiarity flashed in the woman’s eyes as she took me in. She came around the counter, offering her hand. “It’s great to meet you. I’m Kayla, the manager. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“It’s great to meet you, too,” I said, shaking her hand.
Kayla gave Mac an understanding look. “Why don’t you take the morning off? I’ll remake the pastries and take care of everything down here.”
“Are you sure?” Mac asked her, while untying the apron that was around her waist.
“Yes, go!” Kayla pushed her toward the door.
Mac grabbed my hand, taking me around the store to the back where there was a staircase that led to the second floor.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked as she led me up the steps.
“When I bought the building I had the top floor renovated to an apartment, so I wasn’t ever far from my shop,” Mackenna explained.
At the top of the stairs, the front door opened directly into the kitchen. There were white cabinets, with granite countertops, and the kitchen island mirrored the one in my parents’ home. She also had a cute little kitchen table by a set of windows and there was a large sectional on the opposite wall. Two of the three walls were exposed brick while the last one was a soft white with dark green trim. The apartment was small, but it definitely screamed Mackenna.
“It’s a cute place,” I said as my eyes scanned the area.
“It’s perfect for just me,” she replied.
“When did you get this place?” I asked in an effort to get Mac to forget about the line of questioning that she was about to start before we were interrupted downstairs.
To no avail.
“Nuh uh, I want to talk about you. What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back home? Where’s Jon?” She said his name like she was talking about a disgusting pus-filled blister on the bottom of her feet.
I had to sit down on the couch as I tried to figure out how to answer Mac’s questions.
“I didn’t tell anyone that I was coming back, just in case I chickened out. I’m here because...” I took a deep breath as I spoke the words that still didn’t feel real. “Because I had to get away from Jon. He’s still in Collins.”
Mac’s eyes darted to my bare left, ring finger.
Surprise lit up her eyes.
“You left him?”
I nodded.
“What did he do?”
I knew I could change the subject and talk about something else and Mac would let me, but there was a large part of me that just wanted to talk about what had happened with someone that I didn’t need to tread carefully around like my parents. With my father’s reaction to the little I had told them, I knew I couldn’t tell them the whole truth. Not yet.
“You were right about him. Everyone was.” I recalled every moment that Mac had told me not to give Jon the time of day. I just wished that I’d listened to her. “A few weeks after the last time I was here, he started to get possessive. Too possessive. He would check up on me if I was gone for more than a few minutes and he monitored my phone, making sure that I wasn’t talking to other men. I shouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt, but he was just so charming and manipulative...
“And it got so much worse after we got married. Do you remember my photography?” Mac nodded as I recalled the way I’d always felt when I had a camera in my hands, the simplicity I would feel when I was behind the lens. I hadn’t felt that way in forever. My voice was quiet as I continued, “In hindsight, I think he saw it as a way that I could leave him. It was so slow that I didn’t see it happening until it was too late.
“He didn’t like me spending so much time editing and taking pictures. He wanted me to spend my nights and weekends with him. I saw nothing wrong with it. I just thought he loved me and wanted to be with me.” Tears came to my eyes as I remembered all the moments that were red flags that I’d turned a blind eye to.
Mac put a hand on my leg in a gesture of comfort. “Don’t blame yourself. Sadly, you aren’t the first woman to fall prey to men like him and you won’t be the last. That you’re here right now says a lot.”
I took a deep breath; I had to get all of this out now while I still had the strength.
“I just seemed to wake up one day and all of my cameras were gone and I was nothing but a trophy wife.”
Mac hesitated before asking her next question. “Did he hit you?”
I sighed as I remembered the incident from last week.
“WHY THE HELL ARE MY clothes still wet?” Jon asked me as he came into the kitchen.
My eyes stayed on the pot that I was stirring as I answered him. “I’ve barely left the kitchen all day; I’ve been trying to make sure this meal is perfect for dinner tonight.” He had told me he was bringing a colleague by and he wanted everything flawless.
“And I wanted to wear my white button-up, but I can’t because it’s fucking soaked,” he retorted.
I turned around, reaching out for the shirt that was in his hand. “I’ll put it in the dryer; it should be dry by tonight.”
His lips twitched with anger. “You’re fucking useless, you know that?” He stepped closer, so close that I could see the flecks of spit that flew from his lips. “I wanted it dry now, and it’s not, is it?”