“Who said anything about drinking?” Olivia says. “I just meant food. A movie. Something.”
“Anything,” Charlie adds.
“Fine, a movie. No food.”
“Not even popcorn?” Olivia asks, but I can tell she’s kidding, and even I have to smile.
“If it’s synthetic, we don’t have a problem.”
“What’s playing?” Charlie asks as we tromp our way downstairs.
“Who cares.”
My parents are in the kitchen sipping coffee.
“We got her up,” Charlie says to my mom. “Where’s our medal?”
My mom comes over and folds me into a hug. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Like if she holds on tight, she can keep me together.
“Well, I’m glad,” she says, trying not to look hurt when I pull away. “Have fun.”
My dad raises up his mug like he’s toasting us, but he looks tired. And sad. I think this has been the hardest on him.
Charlie tries to hold my hand in the car, but I keep my palms planted firmly in my lap. She puts on her phone, andwe all get kind of quiet. A few times Olivia tries to play the “Remember when?” game, but all our stories just remind us of Rob, and we give up quickly. The movie theater is next to Grandma’s Coffeehouse, and we park right in front, the way Olivia always does when she runs in on Wednesday mornings. We’ve been to the coffeehouse all together a few times, mostly when we’ve had a sleepover the night before, but I don’t think I’ve been once this year. The same woman is still behind the counter, and as we slam doors and walk up to the theater, I realize I don’t know her name. We’ve been coming here for probably ten years, and I’ve never bothered to ask.
Olivia buys us all tickets for some movie with the redhead from that CW show she’s obsessed with. Charlie gets popcorn and two different kinds of candy, and we take seats in the back on the left-hand side. It’s where we’ve been sitting since the seventh grade, when we started going to movies together alone, without our parents. I stuff my hand into the popcorn and shove a few kernels into my mouth, but they just taste like cardboard. The candy has no taste either. Even the movie looks dull. Like it’s in black and white instead of color. I sit low in my seat and let the screen carry me away, lull me, so at least for the next two hours I’m only half conscious.
When the movie is over, I tell Charlie and Olivia I’ll meet them outside. I use the restroom and splash some water onto myface. I shouldn’t recognize myself. It’s been weeks since I looked in the mirror and even longer since I’ve had a proper shower, but here I am. Rosaline, just like always. Even Rob’s dying couldn’t make me disappear.
I’m walking out of the bathroom when I see them buying tickets. Len and Dorothy. She is laughing and smiling, and he’s paying. Are they on a date? She holds up a bag of popcorn, and he sticks his mouth in, tongue first, and flicks a kernel up. The rational part of me knows they are just friends, but the other part of me, the part that trusted him, is seething angry. He hasn’t even said he was sorry. He didn’t even call after Rob died. He didn’t even ask if I was okay. We’ve barely spoken during bio, going through the activities like strangers, and we haven’t talked about what happened at my house. He’s barely registered my existence.
He sees me but immediately looks away. Great, so he’s ignoring me again. Just like he did at the funeral. It’s not like everyone else at school isn’t treating me the same way. Except I thought Len was different. I trusted him. And he’s proven to be exactly like everyone else.
I storm over to them and grab his arm. Hard.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hey,” he says, looking from my hand to my face and back down.
“Were you going to say hello? Or were you just going to keep ignoring me?”
Dorothy laughs nervously next to him, but he doesn’t look at her. He just keeps looking at my hand on his arm.
“I thought we were friends,” I continue. “I thought you’d care.”
He looks up, and his eyes search mine. “I do,” he says.
“Well, my friend just died. My cousin just died.” I cough the words out like they’re rotten.
“I know,” he says. “I was there.”
“Oh, you mean at the funeral? Could have fooled me. You didn’t even say hello.”
Len shakes his arm free from my grasp. “Honestly,” he says, “I thought I’d be the last person you’d want to hear from.” His voice is quiet, and he’s holding his arm close to his chest. “That’s why I haven’t said anything. In school or otherwise. I didn’t think you’d want me to.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” I say. And then, before I walk out to the car, I add, “Not that it matters anymore anyway.”
“Do you want us to come in?” Charlie asks.
