Sara crossed the park, balancing a tray of small coffees in her hand. She’d had to get out of the building, to get away and clear her head. One minute, she’d been laughing with Warrick, and the next…well, she didn’t know what happened. The energy in the room shifted somehow. It had become charged, and the charge had come directly from the energy zipping back and forth between them. It had thrown her off.
He’d noticed it too. She’d seen the minute he became aware of the shift, and he hadn’t seemed any happier about it than she’d been.
She steadied the tray of drinks with the stump of her left arm as she scanned the park. She was giving her arm a break from the prosthesis while she was out. One thing she’d noticed, no one in the homeless population seemed to bat an eye at her stump. Some of her friends didn’t either, and it was what had drawn her to them. Samantha, for example, hadn’t been the least bit phased by seeing the portion of Sara’s forearm that was thinner than it should have been, where the muscle had been torn right from the bone. She didn’t seem to mind the angry scarring or any of that. Instead, Samantha had been immediately fascinated with helping Sara design her prostheses. They’d calculated figures together and tried various attachments, without any of the unease she typically found when engaging with new people. It was why the two were close friends now.
The first time she’d shown the slightest bit of hesitation at removing her prosthesis, Samantha had taken care of the issue. In true Samantha style, her friend lifted her shirt clear up to her neck, flashing her breasts at Sara. It brought the laughter Samantha was likely hoping for. It also exposed the crescent-shaped scars that topped each breast, a result of Samantha’s horrific run-in with armed mercenaries sent to kidnap her.
“There.” Samantha had pulled her shirt back into place. “We’re good now. Take it off.”
Sara shook off the memory as she spotted a small group of people in the park and recognized two of the three faces. Darla was one of them. She thought one of the men might be named Matt, or maybe Dave. She didn’t know the other one at all. She headed that way and offered the coffee silently to the group. All three took a cup, nodding their thanks.
“You goin’ go broke, you keep this up,” Darla offered, but her smile and the way she wrapped her hands around the cup told Sara a different story. Darla was no longer homeless thanks to Connecticut’s zero homelessness initiative. She had recently moved into a room at a local place, but she came out and spent most days with her friends. She’d told Sara she couldn’t stand to look at four walls when she wasn’t asleep.
“I’ll tell my boss I need a raise,” she said, smiling back, before walking toward the other end of the park. One man sat alone on a bench. She didn’t know his name yet, and he seemed to keep clear, even of the others. She had a feeling interacting with people was hard for him. He seemed to be living inside his own head most of the time.
Sara approached slowly, and waited until the older man looked at her. He seemed to look through her for a minute, then his face brightened with recognition, and she moved forward, her hand outstretched to offer the last of the cups of coffee.
“You came back,” he said, a somewhat reverent disbelief in his voice. He didn’t move to take the coffee, so Sara pulled it from the wedged spot on the tray and set it next to him on the bench, then sat down on the other side of it.
“I said I would.” She looked at him and ignored the smell emanating from him. A heavy beard covered most of his face. It was yellowed as if the grime and soil had soaked in to discolor it permanently, and she felt a tug at her heart. Her grandfather had had trouble caring for himself when he’d gotten older, having a hard time bathing or even remembering to bathe. Her grandfather had the benefit of family to help him though. She wondered if this man had anyone.
She’d also seen him favor the right side of his body, and she wondered if he had been in an accident. She’d never ask about it. It wasn’t any of her business. She never questioned the people she brought meals or coffee to out in the park.
She hadn’t talked with this man much, but he didn’t strike her as a veteran. Still, he’d seen things in life, she would guess. Been hurt, and not just physically. There was a bone deep pain she recognized in him.
“Drink the coffee,” she said. “It’ll warm you up.” It wasn’t the kind of brittle cold weather they’d see during the winter yet, but they were certainly having a cold snap, and sitting on the cold bench hour after hour had to get to a body after a bit.
He nodded, but didn’t pick up the cup. He simply smiled at her, and she wondered if he’d had much company since showing up in town. Darla had told her he was new in New Haven. He’d shown up a month ago, but hadn’t seemed to want to engage with many of them. Darla had passed this information on without judgement, but now Sara wondered about it. He certainly hadn’t seemed hesitant to talk to Sara.
“Will you come back again?” He asked, and Sara nodded, then turned to look at the park. She wondered what he watched as he sat on the bench. She’d seen him on this bench before.
Sara glanced toward the sky, but her eyes caught on the figure in the large window at the top floor of Simms Pharmaceutical. Warrick. He stood and looked out over the park, seeming as though he might be looking straight at her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away.
“You’ll come back?” The man asked again.
Sara nodded, wanting to offer some reassurance. “I’m Sara. What’s your name?”
“Buddy. You can call me Buddy.”
“I have to go now, Buddy, but I’ll come back and see you again.” She stood and pushed the coffee closer to him on the bench. He smiled, seeming to snap out of whatever memories had gripped him moments before, and picked up the cup this time. He sipped and Sara smiled at him and waved, before turning back toward the building.
Tyvek watched as she walked away. It was her. She was back. She was different this time, but her eyes were the same. He would always know her eyes. It wasn’t the color of the brown eyes they both shared. In fact Vicki’s had been a little lighter. It was the kindness in the eyes. His Vicki had always had that kindness in her. She was too kind. He was beginning to see that.
He looked at the Simms Pharmaceutical building and scowled. He had hoped she’d be strong enough this time. That she would walk away from the temptation Warrick held, but she’d never been strong where Warrick Staunton was concerned. Even as a teenager, she’d been drawn to Warrick like he was some kind of drug.
Not this time. Tyvek hadn’t been firm enough with her before. This time, he’d make sure she wasn’t drawn in again.