“Yeah.”
“Can I ask why it ended?”
Her first response is a shaky sigh. “I might overshare, but if you really want to know…” She glances toward me, and I give my permission in the form of a nod. “So we were really serious really fast, right? We started dating last December, and over the summer I visited her at her internship in New York. We crafted this whole five-year plan where we’d move there right out of college, she’d take a job with that same company while I was in grad school, and then we’d settle down somewhere on the coast. Sounds great, right?”
“Great,” I agree, pocketing her ex’s she/her pronouns. “And stable. Sorta like Marcus and his fiancée.”
“Exactly.”
“So your parents must have loved her.”
Ellie pauses, breathing a laugh to herself. “Actually, they were supposed to meet this weekend. But then a month ago, she got scouted by this company in Raleigh, and she came to me all excited about accepting the job. Like I was supposed to drop everything and move to North Carolina with her, no questions asked.” She laughs again, but it’s wobblier this time. “Like, was I really even a priority to her? What about my dreams?”
“Are there no art therapy master’s programs in North Carolina?” I ask, half joking.
“Literally no,” Ellie says. “And even if there were…we were supposed to be planning a life forus.Together. But she was only planning for her.”
“Ouch.”
“And then she had the audacity to suggest long distance, even though she knew how difficult that was for me just for that one summer she had her internship…” Ellie trails off, shaking her head, but she can’t shake the sadness out of her eyes. “Maybe some people are cut out for that, but I’m just not. No matter how much I love a person. It’s just too much.”
“I get it,” I say, although I don’t really. My only frame of reference for long distance is my friendship with Kat, and as difficult as that has been the past three months, we’re just friends—and only a three-hour drive apart. “So the breakup was mutual, then?” I ask, only slightly worried that I’m getting too nosy.
“I guess,” Ellie says. “But I mostly feel like I got dumped for a state south of the Mason-Dixon.”
A laugh slips out of me with panic immediately behind it. That probably wasn’t meant to be funny. Before I can apologize, Ellie laughs along with me, a low, closed-lip chuckle that rumbles in her throat like an engine trying to kick over. I hope it feels as natural to her as it does to me.
“So the ex is off to Raleigh,” I say. “What about you? Still New York?”
Ellie crosses her fingers on both hands, and the sadness in her eyes dissipates as she nods. “Both my dream school andbackup school are in Manhattan, so the only problem will be getting the money from Mom and Dad.”
“I’m sure they’ll be on board,” I say with more confidence than I’m entitled to.
“We’ll see.” Ellie blows a sigh straight up into her bangs. The short blonde hairs flutter like wheat in the wind, then resettle across her forehead. “Mom is the real problem. She doesn’t exactly love that I’m an art major, and she’ll probably think I’m just throwing money away on grad school to ‘find myself’ post-breakup.” She pauses, swallows, then adds, “And maybe she’d be right.”
It’s quiet between us for just a little too long, and I find myself fixated on Ellie’s hand draped over her right knee. It’s just a few inches away from mine. I could reach over and grab it, or even just lay my hand over hers. Would that be sweet? Or weird since we were just discussing her getting dumped? Am I overthinking this? Her fingers twitch, and I’m sure we’re thinking the same thing until she smacks her thighs and launches out of her chair.
“Enough of my sob story,” she announces, brushing her palms together like a carpenter clapping off sawdust. “Where do I place an order?”
I shake off my internal hand-holding debate and point to the register across from me. “For coffee? Right there. But not until Friday.”
“Oh come on.” Ellie whines. “We’re already here.”
“Yeah, which is pushing it enough. The owners will definitely notice if I test-drive the new espresso machine before Friday’s grand reopening.”
“Fine,” she sighs, stretching one word into two exasperated syllables.Fyy-nuh.“But you owe me a chaicoffski.”
“If you come to the reopening, it’s on me.”
“Deal,” she says. “I wouldn’t have missed it anyway.” She smiles at me, and something about it feels different from any smile I’ve seen from her so far. It spreads up and crinkles the corners of her eyes, which twinkle in the low light, and my breath catches.
And then Ellie picks up her coat and fishes her phone out of the pocket, and the moment ends. “I guess I should probably call an Uber.”
“Oh, yeah, probably.” If I hadn’t gone so hard on vodka sodas, I would’ve offered her a ride, but if I’m drunk enough to be sneaking into work after hours, I’m certainly too drunk to drive. “I hope it’s not too pricey.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth than Ellie’s eyes stretch to the size of gumballs.
“All right.” She laughs in disbelief. “Ninety-five dollars.”
“Are you shitting me?”
