To Say Goodbye (5 page)

She found herself feeling his sorrow deep in her core, feeling the hurt on his face. She instinctively touched his shoulder. “Hang in there.”

“You do the same.” He offered her a grim smile before turning back to his beer.

So much for getting out and getting away,
she thought as she headed back to her seat to wait for Stella.

But since Tim had died, she realized you never got away from sorrow, from heartbreak. It was always there. It probably always would be.

SOPHIA

“K
ara, honey, I love this picture, I do. The thing is, I can try to get your hair to do this, but with the wave in it and the thickness, it might not
quite
look like Reese Witherspoon’s, just so you know.”

“Let’s just go for it,” the teenager said, rolling her eyes. Sophia took a breath to try to calm herself. This was bound to be a disaster.

Stella gave her the knowing look, shrugged, and turned back to Mr. Peabody, the ninety-year-old in her chair. He was a bit of an easier client since he couldn’t even hear what Stella was asking. He just nodded in agreement. Sophia wondered if he would even be able to see his final reveal.

Forty-five minutes later, the teenager, to Sophia’s surprise, was gasping at how wonderful her hair looked and how it was just like the picture. Sophia smiled, glad to see a happy client but doubtful if she actually would be mistaken for Reese anytime soon. She’d done her best with the next-to-impossible task. Clients often expected her to be a miracle worker with a magic hair wand. If only it were true.

It felt good in some ways to be back to her routine, but in other ways, something was missing. Sophia was passionate about her work, loved doing hair since she was a little girl. She’d been the five-year-old caught chopping off the locks of all her Barbies because she needed to give them a “better” haircut. She’d been the high school girl obsessed with doing her hair in a different style every day of the week. She did her prom hair, did her friends’ hair for prom, and changed her hair color at least once a month. There’d never even been a question about what she’d do with her life. This was what she always wanted.

These days, though, she often found herself internally mocking some of the clients who were obsessed with their hair color and the shade nuances. She found herself getting frustrated when her client complained about split ends or an awkward layer. She believed in beauty, knew a haircut could change everything. But after the past few months, something in her had changed, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she found herself thinking about how superficial it all was. Who cared if your hair was golden brown or chocolate brown? What did it matter if you had a few frizzy ends? In the scheme of things, did it even count for anything at all? Everything could change at the turn of a hat, in the blink of an eye, or any other stupid cliché that meant your husband could die and leave you all alone without warning.

She knew she had to quell these thoughts, or they would burn and rage inside her until they destroyed her. She couldn’t begrudge people their normal lives, their happiness. A few months ago, she was one of them, obsessing over every eyelash and curl on her head. The most tragic thing that happened to her was a bad hair day.

Tim’s death had put so much in perspective, but that perspective wasn’t always a positive thing. She craved a day when she could again worry about the trivial aspects of everyday living. She just didn’t know if the day would ever come.

After the teenager paid for her services, Sophia quietly tidied up the salon. Stella finished Mr. Peabody’s haircut and style, and then, after shouting the total of the bill nine times, the shop was empty.

“Hey, Sarah’s hair looked good, despite the obvious difficulties. Good work,” Stella complemented her.

“Thanks. I tried.”

Stella sang to herself as she jauntily carried some towels to the back room. She practically skipped around the shop.

“So tonight’s the night, huh? You and Larry are going out on the town. Do you want me to do your hair?” Sophia offered. It had been their tradition. On date night, they treated each other to a signature style.

“Um, no, I think I’m just going to run the flat iron through it. I don’t have much time. Does it look okay?”

“Looks awesome, as always.” Sophia meant it. Stella always looked amazing. She wished she had the guts to pull off pink hair like Stella did. She managed to make it look simultaneously badass and elegant. That was Stella for you—a perfect contradiction. Sweet and sassy. Rational and bold. Tactful and tactless all at the same time.

“Thanks, love. So Larry is picking me up here in fifteen minutes. I wanted you to get to meet him.”

“Oh, great! Fifteen minutes, though? You better get moving. What are you wearing?”

“I have a change of clothes in the back room. I’m going to go get ready. Be right back.”

Stella scurried off to change into something that would probably look magazine-page worthy. Sophia smiled, excited for her best friend. She glanced in the mirror, something she tried not to do these days. Her own blonde locks looked haggard, frizzy, lifeless. Her face was devoid of makeup as it had been all week. She looked like she felt—bland.

Sophia headed to the schedule area to flip through and verify some appointments. She emptied the jug of its last cup of pink lemonade, sat in Stella’s styling chair, and spun aimlessly around, waiting for the reveal of both Stella and the mystery man named Larry.

A few moments later, Stella reappeared, wearing a simple black dress. Some crystal jewelry classed it up, but the lace-up knee-high leather boots added a touch of Stella to the classy outfit. Her pink hair popped against her porcelain skin, and the look was completed with dramatic winged eyeliner. She looked gorgeous.

“You always look killer, you know that? You’d think you worked in the beauty industry or something.” Sophia smiled, standing to approach her.

“You think it’s not too trashy looking? Too teenage-like? Larry’s sort of a more laid-back kind of guy. I don’t want to scare him away.”

“If the pink hair didn’t scare him, I think you’re golden.”

Stella showed her perfect teeth. “I don’t want to mess this up. I like him.”

As if on cue, the bells on the door tinkled, and a tall, handsome guy strolled in. So much for time to straighten Stella’s hair. He carried a bouquet of daisies in his arms. He wore a red-collared shirt, some trendy jeans, and simple shoes. His chocolate brown hair matched his perfect beard. He looked clean, put together, reliable, and sexy in a not-trying-too-hard way. He was a wonderful compliment to the edgy, wild Stella.

“Larry, I want you to meet my best friend and business partner, Sophia. Sophia, this is Larry.”

Sophia amicably extended a hand. “I’ve heard great things about you,” she offered, and Larry looked her in the eyes.

“Same here. It wasn’t five minutes into our conversation that Stella started talking about you. In a good way, of course.”

“So where are you two headed?” Sophia asked as Stella took the daisies and arranged them in a vase on the front counter.

“We’re heading to Mama’s Diner for some Italian first and then to a late movie.”

Sophia brushed off the feeling of her cringing heart. She could feel Stella appraising her reaction from across the room. “Sounds lovely. Have a wonderful time.” She sounded stiff, no matter how much she tried not to.

Stella approached her after the daisies were carefully resting in the vase.

“Soph?” She put an arm around her friend’s shoulders, not saying anything else, not needing to.

“I’m great. You two have a wonderful time.” Sophia managed to scrounge up a genuine smile, genuine enough to convince her friend she meant it.

“Okay, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stella put her hand on Larry’s arm, gave Sophia one more hesitant glance, then headed off into the night.

Once they were out of sight, Sophia let go of the fake smile on her face. She slumped to the floor, her back against the front desk. Tears formed in her eyes. She tried to fight them off.

Larry couldn’t have known. It was bound to happen. She couldn’t avoid Mama’s forever, even if she wanted to.

Such was the hazard of living in the town where you had met your late husband.

_______________

Sophia tugged gently on her miniskirt, trying to magically extend the hem. Stella had promised her she looked amazing, but she felt uncomfortable. Scandalous wasn’t an adjective she’d ever use to describe her style—except for tonight. She was afraid to move too quickly for fear she would reveal too much. This skirt was a terrible idea.

Stella had looped her arm through Sophia’s as they strolled toward the restaurant. It was a muggy July night, and she could feel sweat beading on her forehead.

“Are you sure this is where you want to celebrate?” Stella asked as they approached the tiny building, the light-up sign teetering on the pole out front.

“The contractor said it’s awesome, and I’m so hungry for some lasagna.”

“Are you twenty-two or one-hundred and twenty-two?” Stella teased. “If I’d have realized this was what you had in mind when you said going out to celebrate, I wouldn’t have loaned you my miniskirt.”

“Sorry, Ms. Club Animal, but I thought we should do something a little bit more mature to celebrate since we’re soon-to-be entrepreneurs and all.”

“Ew. I hate that word. It sounds too stuffy. I prefer Business Diva.”

“Whatever. Let’s go have dinner. We can always go out somewhere more exciting later.”

It had been a long, wonderful day. Sophia’s dreams were coming true. Her beauty shop was under contract, and in a few short months, she would be co-owner of the hip, trendy shop in Hollidaysburg. What was even better was her best friend would be by her side.

The two had always talked about this day when they studied chair by chair in beauty school. Through their crazy perm disasters to perfecting ombre, they had promised each other they would work hard, save money, and open their own shop. They had dreams of working for themselves, of building a business, of someday catering to the celebrities.

The shop they’d just signed for wasn’t in New York City or Los Angeles, so the probability of Angelina Jolie being on their clientele list was slim. They’d settled on Hollidaysburg, Pennsylvania, where Stella had grown up. Stella had convinced Sophia it was a nice starting point, offering a cheap lease and a low cost of living, something appealing for the two just into their early twenties. They still had loans to pay from beauty school, and a huge business loan was frightening. Plus, it afforded Sophia the luxury of only being about two hours from her parents and her own hometown. There would be time to expand to the big city. For now, she would celebrate the fact they had accomplished their dream—or would soon.

Entering the restaurant, they were serenaded by authentic Italian sounds and smells. Music played softly in the background, and Sophia looked around. Yep. As usual, they were underdressed—figuratively and literally—for the atmosphere. It was somewhat of a classy place. She probably should have thought about that before they came. However, the low-key sign and the dated exterior hadn’t really given them any clues, in all fairness.

She held her head high, trying to ignore the stares from the slightly older crowd waiting to be seated at Mama’s Diner. She told the hostess two and then slinked to a back corner with Stella.

“Fancy, schmancy,” Stella teased. “You do know we aren’t raking in any cash yet, right?”

“Hey, we deserve it. It’s been a long road to this point, and there’s a lot of work ahead of us.”

“True. But it’s so exciting. Now we just need to come up with a name.”

A few minutes later, the hostess led the two to a table complete with more silverware than either were used to.

“Lord, this place is fancy,” Sophia said. “Sorry, the contractor didn’t specify.”

“Welcome to Mama’s,” a deep voice urged as a tall, smooth-faced waiter approached. Sophia glanced up from her menu to see the warm, brown eyes and spikey hair. Her stomach involuntarily fluttered as she made eye contact with him, finding herself staring a little too long.

He beamed at her, seeming to not even notice Stella. She could feel his gaze carefully, almost imperceptibly moving down her body, inventorying her. She felt herself blush.

“What can I bring you ladies to drink?” he asked, his smooth voice wrapping itself around her. The music faded as she focused solely on him, his arms bulging as he pulled a notepad out of his apron.

Stella kicked her under the table, and Sophia startled. She muttered, “Oh, pink lemonade please.”

The waiter grinned softly. “Sorry, we don’t have pink lemonade. I think we just have regular.”

Her face burned even hotter.

“We’ll just have some water, please.” Stella jumped in, saving Sophia as she had so many times.

“Right away.” The waiter walked away from the table slowly, barely moving his eyes.

“Pink lemonade? Really?” Stella teased once the waiter was out of earshot.

“It’s our favorite.”

“Yeah, but not at a fancy restaurant.”

Sophia grimaced.

“Your face is so red. Get it together.”

“It’s hot in here.”

“Pretty sure you’re just obsessed with Tim.”

“What?”

“The waiter, idiot. It’s Tim. He went to my high school. He was a few years ahead of me. Ask him out.”

“Stella, stop. He’s our waiter. He’s probably married or something.”

“Nope. No ring.”

“Will you stop scoping him out? I don’t think he’s interested in his customers. He’s just doing his job for God’s sake.”

“Trust me, he’s interested. He couldn’t stop staring at you. You’re welcome. If I’d let you wear that god-awful turtle neck, you’d have only been catching gramps’s eye.” She motioned toward the table beside them where an eighty-year-old man carefully chewed on his spaghetti, slurping the noodles every few moments.

“Shh, he’s coming back.”

Stella smiled, giving Sophia a mischievous look.

When the waiter set down their waters, Stella turned to him. “So, Tim, you went to school here, didn’t you? I graduated a few years after you I think.”