Our normally light Tuesday turned into something different when a busload of wrestlers on their way home from the state tournament turned into the parking lot. After an entire season of cutting weight, I had thirteen very hungry boys, their coaches, parents, trainers and the town’s cheering section lined up for seconds and thirds. We were out of Peanut Butter Fudge Brownie less than an hour into the dinner rush. It was good though. Busy was just what I needed to keep my mind off Brax and Doug and all of the swirling emotions that threatened to unsettle me. But when I locked the door and flipped the open sign to closed, I felt spent and bone tired. I had just enough energy to haul myself up the stairs to my apartment. I went to sleep in my pink polyester dress with Cherry Razzie stains down the front. Later, I’d wonder why I didn’t hear the alarm beep from downstairs alerting me to someone opening the back door. Or why I’d chosen that night to turn my phone to silent. But it wasn’t until the first stab of sunlight poked through the slats in my window blinds and fell across my eyes that I finally woke up.
