“I said go away,” I grit, my molars aching from how hard I’m grinding them.
“I know you probably think this is the easy way out, but it’s not. I promise you it’s not.” His voice floods with desperation as I hear him take another step. “Think about the people who are going to miss you.”
His words are weighted, pain filled, and desperately aching to be heard.
For the first time in a long time, I laugh. But there’s no humor behind it; it’s hollow, bitter, almost tastes like bile as it tumbles out of my mouth. “No one is going to miss me.”
“Don’t say that. They are.” He exhales pressingly and urgently.
“I have no one,” I voice indifferently…emptily.
I’m not saying that for pity, it’s the truth. I pushed everyone away, and the only person who I was theclosestto by blood, died.
My words must hold some kind of weight because seconds stretch and the silence extends. I don’t hear him, so maybe he left.
Making up my mind, once again, I go to take a step, but I stop when I hear the sound of footsteps. Before I can tell him to go away, he’s standing right next to me.
I’m taken aback and I have to crane my head up to look at him because he’s taller than me. My brows pinch and something stirs in my chest, but I can’t distinguish whether it’s annoyance, anger, or both.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I add some distance between us.
His hand quickly stretches out, but he doesn’t grab me. It must’ve been a knee-jerk reaction because he drops it and stares straight ahead.
“Iwill miss you,” he says after a moment of silence. The words roll off his tongue casually, as if we’re friends.
A cool breeze sweeps by us, and my skin pebbles, but it’s the effect of his words that cause the goose bumps to linger.
I can’t remember the last time someone said that to me.
“Don’t say that. You don’t know me.” I stare straight ahead, still keeping distance between us.
I don’t know why I’m entertaining this conversation when I’m still going to go through with it. I have no desire or will to live and I’m okay with going out this way.
“My name is Daniel Garcia, but my friends call me Danny.” His words are soft, but friendly, laid-back almost as ifhe weretalking to a friend. “And now you’re my friend, so call me Danny.”
My brows hike up and something whirls in my chest, but it’s not anger or annoyance. His name sounds familiar, but I’m not sure where I’ve heard it from. Either way, I don’t ruminate on what I’m feeling or his name.
“I’m not your friend,” I immediately retort. “I’ve made up my mind. Go away.”
“I will, if you go with me.”
Reining in my frustration, I blow out a fatigued breath. “This isn’t going to play out the way you’re envisioning. You telling me your name means nothing to me.Youmean nothing to me.Imean nothing to you. So do us both a favor and get the fuck away from here before you slip and fall.”
He chuckles; it’s low but hearty, easygoing. “I mean nothing to you, but you’re concerned about my safety?”
“Go away…please.” I don’t mean to but my voice cracks.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
That must have sobered him up because he quiets down. I think he gets closer, but I don’t look.
“I don’t like this time of the year.” He despondently sighs, like the words were heavy to say out loud. But now that they’ve been said, they remain in the air, polluting the space between us.
I’m caught off guard by what he just shared with me. Still, I say nothing because I don’t know how to respond to that. For all I know, he could be lying.
“A few years ago, I…lost someone.” He chuckles but it sounds like mine did a few minutes ago. Real. Raw. And empty. “And this upcoming year, I’m hoping to enter the MLB draft and it feels weird because that was our dream. To do it together.”
I still say nothing, and either he knows I have nothing to say or he thinks I’m waiting for him to explain what he means by that.
