“Moon, I gotta go.” I hung up on him mid-sentence, not caring about the text I’d be receiving about it later. Grabbing all my trash, I slowly started to walk to where Elio was sitting. I didn’t know what time it was, or how much longer I’d be on my lunch, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. Reaching into the shade, I ignored the flash of a shadow in my peripheral vision.
Henoticed me, raising his head and staring at me with wide, sparkling emerald eyes. “The fuck?”
“Well that’s one way to greet someone.” I sank to the ground with him, noticing the daisy in his hand. Half of the petals were torn off, littering the ground. White specks mixed with the green, the stems and leaves torn into tiny pieces amongst them.
Elio seemed stuck, staring at me like I was a ghost. “Are you stalking me?”
I laughed so hard I choked on my spit. Coughing and laughing through the absurdity, I shook my head. “No, dude. I work across the street. I always come here on my break.”
“I’ve never seen you here.”
“That makes two of us, then.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, looking me up and down. I’m sure I looked like a mess, covered in various ingredients from the bakery. “Where do you work?”
I pointed behind us. “Love ’n Sugar. When did you move here?”
The longer parts of his bangs hung over his forehead as he looked down at his hands. He was still holding a daisy stem, twirling it between his fingers. “A while ago.” He shrugged. “Like two years, I think. You?”
Being up close to him, I could see the bruising around his eye better. There was a cut on the bridge of his nose, too. “A year, give or take. I just started at the bakery not too long ago, though. Do you paint, or do you do something different now?”
His shoulders tightened, rising to his ears. I wanted to understand what’d frightened him so much. This wasn’t the Elio I used to know. This wasn’t the Elio I let go of in high school. “Nah, I don’t do that shit anymore. I, uh…” His brows furrowed as he paused. “I don’t really do anything right now. I’m in between jobs.”
I nodded along, just thankful he was talking to me, but concerned he’d called painting “shit.” “Cool, cool. So, what are you doing out here?”
“I can’t enjoy a nice day outside?”
“Of course you can. Is that why you’re out here?”
“Sure.”
It felt surreal to hear him so quiet and unwilling to give information. We used to get into trouble in school for talking too much and too loudly. This new silence between us was awkward and strained. It felt like I didn’t know anything about him anymore. Once my best friend, no secrets between us, now practically a stranger.
Searching for something—anything—to talk about, anything to try to reconnect with someone I’ve missed more than anything in the world, I settled on the same tactic as my brother and me. “So, what’s life look like for you?”
Apparently, that was the wrong question to ask. Elio turned to look at me, his features sharp and intimidating. “Are you gonna go back to work?” Anger and defensiveness outweighed anything else in his tone.
“Are you gonna tell me about that black eye? Or why I haven’t seen or heard from you in almost a decade, yet suddenly here you are? Or why you were trying to jump off a motherfucking bridge?” I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop the words from spitting out of my mouth, laced with anger and hurt from hundreds of sleepless nights wonderingwhy. Why my best friend in the entire world suddenly loved someone more than me, to the point he’d cut me out of his life entirely.
Elio balled a handful of grass in his fist. “Fuck you, Crescent.”
The moment he stood to leave, I panicked. “Wait, I’msorry.” He didn’t stop, so I walked after him. “El, please just stop, man. I’m sorry.”
He turned, the sunlight pouring over the anger on his face. It hurt to see. It hurt more to know I’d caused it. I’d known him long enough to see when he was done with me. “Can we meet up again? Something more formal, like coffee or lunch. I want to catch up.”
Watching him shake his head shattered any hope I might’ve had. “There’s nothing to talk about, Cres.”
I’d only seen him twice, yet both times ended with his back turned to me. It reminded me of the last time, all those years ago. When he told me we couldn’t be friends anymore. I’d cried the entire way home, trying to understand something I couldn’t possibly comprehend.
I walked back to the bakery, full of regret and guilt. James asked why I’d been gone so long and if I was okay. I lied, using my brother’s phone call as an excuse, even though it only lasted five minutes.
Moon texted, calling me rude for hanging up so abruptly. I had a missed call from Mom wondering when she could come to see me. The world kept moving, and my heart kept hurting. My soul kept crying. Someone I’d considered my other half at one point had torn my heart into two pieces—one for him, one for me, and both of them were rotting. Falling apart.
So I pounded the dough a bit harder and whisked bowls of batter for a bit longer than necessary, but I never stopped thinking of him. The mystery behind it all. The mystery behind him.
If I saw him again, I promised myself I wouldn’t scare him off, or come across as harsh. I needed to try, if only for the teenage version of myself who was lost and confused for so long.
Fuck, I hoped I saw him again. And I hoped I didn’t see any more bruises.
