A Hideous Beauty
“I’m certain of it.” Jana spoke with conviction. “He would sooner share his toothbrush with a stranger than let anyone drive his Lexus.”
I hadn’t asked her if there was any chance Myles may not have been the driver. She offered the observation, her way of dealing with the unexpected loss.
Jana removed her sunglasses and placed them between us on the table. I hadn’t told her I’d seen Myles standing beside the fire truck. I didn’t know if I would.
It was Jana who suggested we go to Bruno’s—a questionable little coffee shop we used to frequent on Friday nights after football games. The place was showing its age. The orange vinyl booths were patched. The tabletops worn. The clientele was mostly elderly men nursing cups of coffee and reading the newspaper.
While we waited for a waitress, Jana played absentmindedly with her sunglasses. The other patrons began to recognize her. They whispered and pointed.
Pulling a tissue from her purse, Jana dabbed red, swollen eyes.
The other patrons took note.
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