"There you are, sweetheart!"

I blinked, realizing that I was standing in the entryway of Mama Rosa's, quickly becoming enveloped by the scent of freshly ground coffee and chocolate. My feet often seemed to carry me places of their own accord, so I wasn't sure why I was so startled to find that I'd found my way home without having even noticed.

A fire was crackling away in the grate, further accentuating the cozy atmosphere in the coffeehouse. With the intricate golden wallpaper, creaking wooden floors, the radio set to some classic station playing quietly in the corner...this place was "old New York" and it had charm -- something my grandmother had diligently seen to.

Mama Rosa's was home. Maybe that was what had hot guilt bubbling in the pit of my stomach, the note in my pocket now scorching.

It took my mother calling my name again to snap me out of my stupor, and I belatedly noticed that there was a line of customers at the front counter waiting to be served.

"Sorry, ma," I called as I swiftly crossed the shop. "Give me a second to wash my hands and I can help."

My mother shot me a grateful smile as I slipped past her into the kitchen. "Thanks, caro."

I tossed my backpack by the foot of the stairs in the back and got washed up at the industrial-sized sink, then pulled on a clean apron. 

I fell into this routine the same way I always did, helping get the line of customers out the door with their hot drinks and pastries.

My hands were keeping busy, but my brain wasn't, which threw off the routine entirely. And my brain was my own worst enemy. 

My thoughts kept straying back to the note still tucked away in my pocket. Every time that happened, my heart picked up in pace and my lungs felt like they were constricting, making it difficult to get in a proper breath.

We were nearing closing by the time the coffeehouse emptied of customers, and it looked like a tornado had struck behind the front counter. 

"Well," my mother said, observing the empty cans of whipped cream and half gallons of milk littering the floor. "That was a literal rush."

I hummed in agreement. This was a good thing. Business would hopefully stay just as steady in the coming weeks. That would be less of a worry for everyone.

I got to work closing up shop for the night, halfheartedly listening to my mother's chatter as she emptied the pastry case. My grandmother would be back soon with Rosie, picking her up from my Zia Karin's place like she did three times a week, and then it would be time for a late dinner.

"Archer."

I stopped jabbing the smoldering log in the fire grate when a hand came down on my shoulder and turned to find my mother hovering behind me.

Up close I could see how exhausted she looked. It looked like there were a few more lines around her eyes, maybe a few extra strands of graying hair. Regina Morales had only just turned thirty-five last March, but she looked as if she'd aged years beyond that. No one ever said it aloud, but we all knew that I was partially responsible for that.

"Archer, are you okay?" My mom squeezed my shoulder, her expression a mixture of concern and exhaustion. "You look all keyed up."

I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out the response that had almost slipped loose: no.

No, I wasn't okay. But what good would it do to tell my mother that? It wouldn't change a thing, because nothing ever did. I needed to make sure that she wouldn't worry.

"I'm fine, ma," I said as calmly as possible. "I just have a lot of homework to get through tonight."

There. I'd told her at least a partial truth. I did have a lot of homework.

My mom looked a touch suspicious but accepted my answer with a nod. "Alright then. You go get started on your homework and I'll finish up down here."

"But I can -- "

"Go. Homework." My mom pointed toward the kitchen door. "Now."

I put the fire poker down without further argument and was halfway to the kitchen when my mother said, "You know you can talk to me, right, son?"

I stopped abruptly. "What?"

I heard her take in an uneven breath and could tell she was very carefully choosing her words. "If there's anything bothering you, or if... if you need anything. You can tell me, Archer."

No, I can't.

"I know, ma," I said without turning around.

"Good. Just..." My mom took in another breath of air, and I could picture her wrapping her arms around her middle the way she always did when she got uncomfortable or overwhelmed -- like she was trying to hold herself together. "Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Will do."

Out of all the lies I'd told in my seventeen years, that was probably the biggest one.

This was the part where I should've at least hugged my mother – a last goodbye or whatever. Except I couldn't bring myself to do it. If I hugged her, I wasn't going to let go.

Now that I had turned around, I knew I would not be able to face her again either, so I kept going. I took my time retrieving my backpack from beneath the counter. 

Then I walked through the kitchen slowly. With each footstep, my heart began to beat faster and faster, and it burned.

What was wrong with me?

This was what I'd been working my way up to. I had it all mapped out in that note. That should have been a relief. Why was I stalling now? 

When I made it through the kitchen, I stood in the doorway facing the back entrance to the coffeehouse, the staircase leading up to the family apartment to my left. 

I could climb those stairs, no problem. There weren't a lot of them. But now my feet weren't moving either. They were practically glued to the floor. How long it took me to move them, I had no idea, but it felt like trying to escape my way out of quicksand. No matter how hard I fought, it took a herculean effort just to get myself to take one step forward. 

My palms started to sweat while I gripped the banister so hard my knuckles turned white. Static noise was popping in my ears, eerily like the way it happened in my nightmares. 

Someone must've poured cement in my shoes, now so heavy I couldn't even lift one foot just to take a step onto the staircase. What other explanation was there?

I had no idea how I was supposed to get out of this. Yelling for my mother to help was obviously not an option. I had to be the one to do this.

Even if my feet weren't working, I was at least able to move my hand, stuff it in my pocket so my fingers could grab the note. Maybe if I read it again, I might find some way to get my feet unstuck. It was as good a plan as any.

"What are you doing, Archer?"

Hearing my little sister's voice so loudly, clear as day over the white noise roaring in my ears, was like being submerged in an ice bath. 

It came with a jolt of such agonizing pain that it was as if all the air had suddenly been ripped from my lungs. My knees gave out next and I hit the bottom step on the staircase, losing my grip on the banister.

Rosie was standing right in front of me, still bundled up in her jacket and knit hat, blinking at me in confusion. Our grandmother was a step behind her as she walked through the back door, bringing a blast of frigid air with her.

She took one look at me and the next words out of her mouth were, "What's wrong with you, boy?"

"I..."

Something about my grandmother's tone of voice, the way she said what's wrong with you, had me inexplicably thinking of the way, hours earlier, that girl Hadley Jamison had said, what are you doing here?

What am I doing here? Right now, I was trying to get upstairs so I could see to it that I would not be here, and I was failing at it.

"Nothing." Maybe my brain wasn't working, but at least my voice was. "I need to go do homework."

I dragged myself to my feet and quickly made my way up the stairs, a dull ache blossoming in my side from where I'd landed awkwardly on the bottom steps.

There was no way I could do it tonight, not with my grandmother suddenly so suspicious. I was going to have to put it off another night.

Once I was safely locked away in my bedroom, I threw myself onto my bed and buried my face in a pillow, wondering how I'd turned out like this.

___________________________________________________

* Author's Note: 

Posting two chapters because I couldn't find it in myself to leave things on last chapter's cliff hanger! Until next week...