I woke to the strong smell of bacon drifting into my room. My stomach growled.

I’d been staying with my dad for almost a month now, and not much had changed. I stayed mostly inside in my room. Sometimes, I would go outside and lay in my dad’s yard. And, very rarely, I would go for a run around the neighborhood. The problem was I was still the girl dealing with the loss of her mom, but now I was doing it in a city that wasn’t home.

Everything felt wrong.

Sure, I had been born and raised here. But it had been years since I’d talked to anyone who lived here. It’s not like I could just call them up and say, “Hey, remember me? My mom just died and I’m really trying to work through it. Wanna hang out?” With summer being almost over, most of the friends from my childhood were getting ready to go to college. I was more lost than ever.

My dad hadn’t given up hope though. He still would try to talk to me, even though I brushed him off most of the time. He had also taken his role as father seriously. Meals were prepared for me every day, even though I was capable of cooking, thanks to my lessons before my mom’s death.

Breakfast was always made, but this was the first time it included bacon. It was enough to pique my interest. I grabbed my mom’s vintage Nirvana t-shirt and a pair of shorts and put them on before stealing a glance in the mirror.

I hadn’t spent a lot of time looking at myself since I came to River Valley, my reflection startled me. I hadn’t realized just how much I looked like my mom until this moment, especially wearing her shirt.

Sure, we had different colored hair. Hers had been brown and mine was a strawberry blond. And while her complexion had been clear, my face was covered with a splatter of freckles over the bridge of my nose. But that nose was the same. Our green eyes were the same. Forcing a smile on my face, I could see even our smiles were the same.

I leaned closer to the mirror and looked at the white scar that cut through my top lip and touched my tongue to it. It was barely noticeable unless I was smiling. With a little lipstick, I could easily cover it.

Over the years, pressing against that scar had become a nervous tick to me. Something I did when I felt anxious. Eventually, I stopped thinking about how I got it, and simply did it because I did. Being back in Idaho, I remembered its origins were here.

Another whiff of bacon filled my nostrils and a fresh wave of apprehension washed over me. What was my dad up to? I threw my hair up in a quick ponytail and headed down the hall to see what it was all about.

“Good morning, Katie-bug,” my dad’s voice rang out, noticeably more cheerful than it had been every other morning. It seemed he was having a hard time breaking himself of the nickname.

“Dad,” I shot him an irritated look. “Please stop using that name. I’m not ten anymore. Need I remind you I’m an adult and actually have my own home?”

“Sorry, Katie. I just see that little girl with her pigtails when I look at you and can’t help myself.”

“I never had pigtails,” I corrected, but he just chuckled.

“No, I guess you didn’t. But I really am so glad you’re here. It just keeps coming out. Go, make yourself a plate. There’s bacon, pancakes and some coffee in the pot. Then we can talk”

I debated on whether or not to push for more details about what was going on, but hunger overruled and I fixed a plate instead. The bacon was perfectly crisp and the pancakes fluffy. After drowning them in butter and syrup, and grabbing a mug of coffee, I sat down. When was the last time I had a proper breakfast?

“So, what’s up with the spread?” I managed to ask around the giant bite of food I had just shoved into my mouth. I was starving. But it wasn’t enough to distract me from the fact my dad was up to something.

“Katie, you’ve been here for a month now. I’ve been trying to give you your space to grieve and not push. But school’s starting up soon.”

“I’m not going this year, remember?” I reminded him.

“Right. I know. I just thought that you…that it might be time to find something to help get you out of this slump you’re in.”

“Slump?” I nearly leapt out of my seat with the outburst. My voice had to be at least an octave higher than usual. “My mom died, I’d hardly call that a slump.”

My dad rubbed his hands over his face a few times while I took the opportunity to calm myself down. “That wasn’t what I meant. I know it’s not a slump. But I still think it would be good for you to get out of the house for a little bit every week. A small step toward finding your new normal.”

“Doing what?” I asked, suspicious of where this was going. I couldn’t imagine this pain getting any better. I cried myself to sleep nearly every night and couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes at a time.

“Well, I have a buddy who owns a diner in town. I know you don’t need the money. But I thought a few days a week might help you get back into the swing of things. He said he’d be happy to hire you on as a waitress”

“I’ve never waitressed in my life.”

“He’ll train you. And just so you know, Julian works down there. It might be nice to see a familiar face. Maybe talk to someone other than me.”

“Wait. Julian Alvarado?” I asked, even though I knew it had to be who my dad was talking about. There was no one else I knew with that name. Even in Florida I had never met another Julian. His was still the most glorious combination of syllables I’d ever heard compose a name. It was like talking about a celebrity. You couldn’t just refer to him by his first name.

Nope. He was Julian Alvarado.

I hated that I still felt that way. He had been my first crush. Apparently, that first love feeling never left.

“Yeah. It might make you feel more comfortable to know someone.” My dad interrupted my thoughts.

“I’ll think about it,” I answered noncommittally and went back to devouring my pancakes.

We didn’t speak the rest of the meal.

Once I’d finished eating, I went back to my room to change into a tank and running shorts. I hadn’t intended to run that day, but after that breakfast, I knew I needed something to help me clear my head. A good run would help me do just that.

I really loved to run, as strange as that sounded. So many of my friends back home did it as a way to stay fit, for conditioning for a sport or just to look good in a bikini. I loved those benefits, but running was therapeutic for me.

When I ran long distances, my mind would run too. I loved the way my thoughts jumbled before hitting a strange calmness I could only liken to nirvana. It was in those moments I swore I could solve all the world’s problems. World peace, world hunger, global warming. No difficulty was too great to solve in that state.

Today, I just hoped my run would be enough to figure out my own.

As I stepped out into the midmorning sun, I couldn’t help but think on the selling point for working at the diner. My dad had thought he could drop Julian’s name and I would be falling down at his feet and thanking his for the opportunity?

I had been here for weeks and still hadn’t walked down the street to see if Julian still lived there. I hadn’t tried to reach out to him at all. A curious part of me did want to go down the street to see if he was in the yellow house that sat on the cul-de-sac. Would I recognize him? What did he look like now?

Would he recognize me?

I was tempted to walk down the street and look, but after a very brief consideration, I started my run in the opposite direction.

My dad’s neighborhood was small and surrounded by mostly flat, empty land on every side. It took a couple mile drive down a narrow road just to get to anywhere else. It was perfect for running when you wanted to focus your thoughts. No distractions.

And since it was still early, the sun wasn’t beating down on the pavement too harshly yet.

I started to run and considered my options.

My grandma and I had agreed to give it a few weeks before giving up. Having spent the last month here and not feeling any better for it, I was seriously considering returning home. I was thankful I had a home to return to.

But once there, what would I do?

Thanks to my mom, I had a nice bank account. Between that and the house I now owned, I could live comfortably for a while. I already wasn’t planning on going to school this year. I could sit around and literally do nothing.

But was that what I wanted?

My dad’s suggestion of getting a job had both pissed me off and scared me. How dare he decide when I had grieved enough? Who was he to say I needed to get out? But the more I ran, the more reason I saw in it. I could work a few days a week with no pressure to make a certain amount.

It would give me an opportunity to meet people. Give me something to do other than listen to sad music and cry. Also, as much as I tried to keep my thoughts from a certain brown haired boy, I couldn’t stop thinking about Julian. I wanted to see him, to know what he was up to. Now that the idea had been planted in my head, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more.

I had played into my dad’s hands perfectly.