Despitemy best efforts, thoughts of Cole creep into my consciousness as Isearch for something to eat for dinner. Until a few months ago, Iwould have messaged Mindy the second I got home to tell her aboutmy time with Cole. She’s been so absent lately, though, takingforever to answer my messages, wanting to hang out less, cancelingplans with no warning or explanation. We’ve been friends sincecollege and, while we’ve had what I refer to as ‘growing pains’along the way, I expected us to be friends forever. I knew wewouldn’t always be as inseparable as we once were, but I neverthought those growing pains would someday lead to us growingapart.
Even thoughthere’s a good chance she won’t respond right away or maybe eventonight, I send her a message to let her know I got off work early.I’m not sure what it says about me or the current state of ourfriendship that I’m shocked and excited when she repliesimmediately.
Whatgreat timing, I was just thinking about you! Feel like meeting atthe diner?
I had hoped to puton my pajamas and veg in front of the TV while eating the leftoverchickpea curry in my fridge, but it’s been ages since Mindy and Imet at the diner. I could really use some girl time, so I fire backa text telling her I’ll meet her there in thirtyminutes.
***
I de-elf myself asquickly as possible, take a minute to snuggle Milo, and then headback out into the cold evening air.
After the shortdrive to the diner, there’s a pep in my step as I walk down FrontStreet. The city has gone all out this year with its holidaydecorations. The downtown area is bright with a mix of colored andwhite lights strung on nearly every available surface. I smile whenI see the familiar neon sign for B&H Diner up ahead. I’vealways lived in Bellevue, so I’ve been coming to the diner since Iwas little, and I’ve known the owners, Bea and Horatio, for most ofmy life. When I met Mindy during freshman year of college, thediner became one of our favorite hang-out spots. We’d spend hoursthere doing homework, talking about future plans, or lamentingabout bad dates over endless plates of fries and chicken fingers.We both decided to stay in Bellevue after college and have spentcountless hours in the diner over the last decade. I need thistonight.
As I approach thediner, my phone buzzes in my coat pocket. I try to ignore the dreadthat begins bubbling away in my stomach when I see the textnotification from Mindy on the screen. I tell myself she’s lettingme know she’s already inside or maybe running late. But when Iswipe open the text, the air rushes out of me in a gusty sigh,leaving me feeling like a deflated balloon.
Heygirl, something’s come up so I’m gonna have to rain check our dinerplans. Enjoy your unexpected time off!
I closethe text without responding and shove the phone back in mypocket.Something’s come up.No apology for bailing on me at the absolute lastminute. No explanation, when we used to tell each other everything.This isn’t my idea of friendship, especially with the person who’ssupposed to be my best friend. I thought once I got to this age,things would be easier. I expected friendships would be locked inand there wouldn’t be any of the drama and heartache of fickle orfake friends I experienced in high school.
ButMindy’s and my lives have been heading in different directions formonths. She got a new job at the beginning of the year and made newfriends. I was happy for her because I adore the people I workwith, even if Icouldmake more effort to be proper friends with them. Mindy and Iused to spend evenings at one of our apartments or at a quiet baror restaurant. Sometimes we’d check out a local gallery or show,and we often took advantage of cheap nights at the movie theater.Those things no longer seem to appeal to Mindy, though. Her newfriends are all in their early twenties, and they’re still into theparty scene, which Mindy and I left behind a decade or more ago. Orso I thought, anyway.
Somehow we wentfrom seeing each other several times a week to seeing each otheronce or twice a month. The constant back and forth stream of textshas trickled to sporadic messages and long wait times for replies.I’ve been too busy with work to allow myself to overthink it, butI’m lonely. And I’m tired of settling for crumbs. I crave deeperconnection, and I’m no longer getting that from the person Ithought would always be there for me.
A full-body shiverripples through me, making me realize I’ve been standing in themiddle of the sidewalk, lost in thought. I stare up at the B&HDiner sign, then at the illuminated wreath in the front window. Thecolors waver and blur as tears sting my eyes. Giving myself ashake, I draw myself up to my full height and breathe deeply untilthe threat of tears subsides.
I turn to headback to my car, then decide I might as well stay since I’m alreadyhere. I could drown my sorrows in something full of carbs and fat.Nostalgia had me contemplating an order of fries and chickenfingers, but now the thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth. ThenI have a brainwave: I could do one of the things I’ve wanted to dorecently that Mindy doesn’t want to do anymore. I’ve never had thecourage to do things on my own, but how else am I supposed to meetpeople and make new friends?
I spin on my heeland make it a few steps further than last time before it dawns onme that I have no idea where I’m going. I could go to the movies,but I don’t know what’s playing. There’s a gallery down the street,but I’m not sure if it’s open this late. Maybe there’s some funChristmassy activity I could do somewhere in town…
I need to regroup,and the diner is the perfect place to do it. I turn yet again,hoping nobody inside has seen me pacing around out here, lookinglost and confused. This time when I stop outside the diner, it’sbecause someone has approached from the other side and is pausedoutside, hand hovering over the door handle as he studiesme.
“Cole?”
“Sylvie.” The surprise on his face quickly morphs into a brightsmile. “I thought that was you, but wasn’t sure now thatyou’re…de-elfed?”
“I getthat a lot,” I say with a laugh. “Although if you were closer,you’d see I didn’t quite get all the glitter off my face. Thatstuff really sticks.”
I didn’t expecthim to take my words as an invitation, but he approaches slowly,his smile growing with every step. When he stops in front of me,his gaze moves slowly over my face. I have a feeling he’s doingmore than inspecting me for sparkles. He lifts his hand, letting ithover near my face before he gently brushes the pad of his thumbover my cheek.
He looks at histhumb and lets out a low, rumbling laugh. “They really do stick.They suit you, though.”
“Myinner Spice Girl thanks you.”
He nods knowinglyas he takes a step back and shoves his hands into his coat pockets.It’s cold out here, but I can’t help wondering if the movement isbecause he’s holding himself back from touching me again. “Mysister went through a Spice Girls phase,” he says. “Our bathroomwas perpetually covered in glitter, and I was always tripping overplatform boots.”
I grin at theimage. “Your sister sounds like my kind of girl.”
“You’dlike her. I mean, I think you would. Is that weird tosay?”
I shake my head.“Not weird.” Several beats pass while we stare at each other. Mycheeks ache from smiling, and I bet my expression holds the samehint of stunned wonder that Cole’s does. “I thought you wereheading back to Toronto when you left the Village.”
“Thatwas the plan, but I got a flat tire on my way to the highway,” hesays. “I didn’t want to drive all the way back to the city on aspare, so I came into town and found a garage that was still open.They offered to change the tire and check out the strange clunkingnoise I’ve been hearing for awhile, so I thought I’d grab somethingto eat while I waited.”
“Doesit make me a bad person that I’m glad you got sidetracked and endedup here?”
He lets out aquiet huff of a laugh. “No. The second I saw you, I silentlythanked whoever dropped the nail that got lodged in mytire.”
My answering laughcomes out on a puff of white from the cold air. I draw my coattighter around myself, pulling my hands up inside mysleeves.
