Everyone I’ve ever been close to has moved on to the next stages of life—some married with babies, some already divorced and on to new girlfriends and smaller apartments with alimony payments.
Me, all that’s really changed aside from opening the bar is which dog’s accompanying me on hikes. I had a different dog before Scout, a basset hound that passed in April, and while I’ve always enjoyed the company of dogs, people are a different story.
Even people I genuinely like—such as my sister—are a struggle to be around sometimes. Wasn’t always like that, but has been now for about half of my life, so I’m used to it.
Thing is, it’s not like that with Alyssa. I expected it to be that first night when I brought her back to my house. I kept waiting for her company to start draining me, kept waiting to long for the peace of my solitude, but I never did the whole time she was there. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute I spent with her. Being with her filled me up instead of wearing me out, and I’ve never encountered that kind of magic before.
I’m just starting to scoop a creamy spoonful of Bri’s macaroni salad onto my plate when the previously inane conversation takes a swift, uncomfortable turn toward the very girl I’m here trying to avoid thoughts of.
I was only partially paying attention, so I try to scrape together what I remember of what Bri was just talking about. My sister’s a talker, and I’m not in the right headspace to be good company tonight, so I didn’t catch all of it. I think she was talking about some movie she wanted to see before it leaves theaters.
“Since our babysitter vanished right into thin air, we haven’t been able to set up a date night,” she’s telling me as she sprinkles a handful of potato chips on her paper plate. “Did I tell you about that?”
I put the spoon back in the bowl and set the bowl down on the table. “I don’t believe you did,” I murmur.
“You’re being dramatic,” Theo says, understandably dismissive. “She didn’t disappear into thin air. The girl graduated high school, and you know she was planning to go to college. She’s probably just busy, preparing to move away for school or something. Doesn’t have time to babysit anymore.”
Bri frowns, shaking her head. “It’s still not like Alyssa to ignore every attempt I make to reach her. I’ve sent her text messages, I even called and left a voice mail, but she never responded. She’s never taken more than a few hours to get back to me, not even that time her grandpa was in the hospital. I’m worried about her, to be honest.”
Wanting to shift the conversation—and my sister’s concern—away from Alyssa, I say, “Well, like Theo said, maybe she went off to college.”
“No,” Bri says, more decisively. Looking over at Theo, she says, “She wasn’t going away to college, remember? She was going to community college and commuting from home.”
“I don’t remember,” Theo says, rolling down the top of a chip bag and securing it with a clip. “Anyway, whatever the reason, she’s busy. We’ll just have to get a new sitter.”
“I don’t want a new sitter,” Bri complains. Looking over at me, she places a hand to her chest and tells me, “Brant, this girl was a dream, I’m telling you. Sitters like this one don’t come around all that often—especially as cheap as she was. She charged well below the going rate and did far more than these other teenage girls who just sit around on their phones all night and let the kids run wild, then in the last half-hour before they know you’ll be home, they run around and clean everything up so it looks like they paid attention.”
My lips curve up faintly. “If I remember correctly, that’s exactly what you were like as a babysitter. You just talked on a cordless phone instead of a cell.”
Bri rolls her eyes and makes a dismissive noise. “Whatever, I was a good babysitter. Though, not half as good as this one. Our babysitter was a gift from heaven above. Not only would she play with the boys and do a good job keeping them entertained, she’d cook dinner if she knew I was going to be home late, and she’d clean up and do dishes. She even did laundry. One time, Thompson had an accident in bed before I went to work and I asked her if she could switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer so it didn’t sit there all day. Well, when I came home, all the laundry was dried and put away—and everything in the right spot. After that, she’d do laundry any time it was in the basket.” Shaking her head mournfully, she tells me, “The girl was a godsend. I was so stingy with her, wouldn’t even give my friends her number when they needed a good sitter. I was afraid one of them would pay her more and steal her away.”