I want more of that.
I want to make him proud of me.
“Whatever. I’m not in the mood to argue.” Adam gets up. “I’m going to the restroom.”
I nod miserably. “Okay.”
He walks off, leaving me alone to my thoughts.
For five minutes, then ten.
The waiter brings the check, and I realize it’s been almost fifteen minutes since Adam went to the bathroom.
No.
It’s been almost fifteen minutes since Adamleft.
With trembling hands, I look at the check with wide eyes. I didn’t even know a fish dish could cost this much, and the wine…
There’s no way I can cover this.
Tears start to roll down my cheeks before I can stop it, and they plop down onto the paper.
The waiter returns, and he takes one look at the empty seat, then at me.
For some reason, he doesn’t look angry. Instead, there’s a pitying look on his face. “Ran out on you?” he asks.
I nod, unable to speak around the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t…” I’m beyond mortified. I’d spent my allowance on groceries, and even if I hadn’t, I’d still have been hard-pressed to pay this.
All I have is my metro card, and that’s not going to help.
“I can pay half of it now, and… And…” I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay the rest. “I can wash dishes,” I whisper. “I can dosomething.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll take care of it,” he says.
I blink up at him through my tears. I don’t deserve his kindness. I don’t deserve anyone’s kindness.
“I can’t ask that of you,” I say. But what other options do I have? “Okay,” I amend before he can speak. “I… I’ll get the money as soon as I can. I’ll come back and pay.” I fold the receipt.
When I go to put it in my wallet, I realize I forgot the whole thing at home. We’d been in such a hurry that I hadn’t grabbed it. I push the receipt into my pocket and stand up.
“My name is Micah Rhodes,” I tell him. “I’ll give you my phone number, and I… I’ll… I’ll figure something out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “Try to have a good night, Micah. Chin up. If he did this, it’s better to know that he’s an asshole now instead of later.”
I almost laugh. “Yeah,” I say weakly.
How long had it been before Adam had turned into what he is now?
I head out of the restaurant in a blind haze, barely able to see through the tears. When I get outside, I realize that I’m almost half an hour away—by car—without any way to get home. I don’t know what to do.
I pull out my phone and call Adam.
It rings once, then immediately goes to voicemail.
I let out a bleak, despairing little sound, and I try again.
Voicemail.
