“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great,” I said. The ice cream was slightly salty in my mouth because I was still crying.
“I’m sorry I haven’t texted,” he said. “I just felt like it was, you know, easier for both of us to move on.”
“Totally,” I said. “Good call.”
“I thought maybe you came here because you wanted to talk to me,” he said. “So I took my break. I’m on my break.” He exhaled, looked at me. Not the way he’d looked at me at the cash register a few minutes ago. Straight on. In the eyes. He blinked.
“We broke up,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said.
“I didn’t come here to talk to you,” I said. That was a lie. I had. But when I saw he wouldn’t even meet my eyes at the register, I knew. If someone won’t look at you, you can’t change anything. “I came here to eat ice cream.”
I ate the last bite. I stood up to push my chair back. It suddenly felt critical that I leave, right now. Before I smiled at him or reached out to touch his hand or did any of the things I used to do that I couldn’t anymore.
“This is actually my last night working here,” Sam said, pushing his chair back, too. “I got a job at Howell. Working in the bookstore.”
“That’s great for you,” I said. It didn’t matter that Samwouldn’t work at Verity anymore. I still wouldn’t come back here again, because it would remind me of Alex, too.
“Thanks.” Sam’s voice was soft.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Have a nice life.”
It felt imperative that I walk away first.
So I did.
149.
now
On to the wildflower preserve, graceful with Queen Anne’s lace and yarrow, all silvery-white now in the coming night, grays and whites of varying depths. The hills are covered in trees, and from the preserve, everything is so peaceful you have no idea of the creek, the cliffs, the spillway
the edges
waiting for you.
150.
once, that night
“I’m home,” I said.
My voice shook.
No one answered.
There was a note on the counter from my parents.
At the Howards’ for dinner.
I hoped that maybe Jack and his friends were in the family room playing video games like they often were. But when I headed down the hall, all I heard was silence. I should have known from the kitchen. No empty chip bags, no spills of soda on the counter. Yolo wasn’t anywhere to be found. Everyone had somewhere else to be. No one had me.
I felt sosad. Like the ground had dissolved under my feet. Like I was reaching for a handhold and there was only air and so much space. If you can’t even count on your family, what do you have left at all?
Mom. Dad. Jack.
