There’s that smell again, so familiar that I’m transported to another time and place.
Another life.
Where the hell is he? I’m not supposed to meet him yet. We don’t meet until next year. But if I could just see him…
It’s like he’s everywhere and nowhere, a phantom haunting my secondlife, reminding me that no matter how much I change, some things will remain constant. Like watermelon-scented vapor.
“You’re not even paying attention,” she says.
“Do you smell watermelon?”
“What?”
“Watermelon. I could swear I smell—”
I look around. I can feel Madison’s frustration, but I can’t stop. I just want to see him…
“What kind of distraction attempt is this? I get it, you don’t care about my interview—”
“I care! Of course I care,” I tell her. But I add, “You don’t smell it?”
“Smellwhat?”
“Watermelon.”
“What does it matter?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say with a sigh. “It doesn’t. I just—you really don’t smell it?”
Before Madison can respond, a phone rings.Myphone, I realize with a jolt.
“That is so loud,” Madison mutters as I pull the phone out of my pocket in triumph.Finally, Ellie has worked up the nerve to call me. I’ve had my ringer turned up to the loudest setting all week to make sure I don’t miss this moment.
I look at the screen and almost drop my phone.
Incoming call: Mom
It’s the first time I’ve heard from my mom since the night of the accident. The first time I’ve seen her name on my screen since—
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Madison asks.
My phone is still ringing at full volume. Students stare as they walk past. I’m making a scene.
I shake my head and hit Ignore. One thing’s certain—after all this time, I can’t process the emotions of talking to my mom in the middle of a crowded quad. I’ll call her later.
“Who was it?” Madison asks.
“Just spam,” I lie.
We eat dinner in the dining hall that night. When I think back on this period of my life, our friend Helen was usually here, but when I mentioned her name earlier, Madison just went, “Who?”
The memory of Helen—her life as well as her death and my mixed emotions about seeing her again—is almost enough to make me lose my appetite, but Madison distracts me.
“You should come with me tomorrow,” Madison says, then takes a bite of her burger.
I put my slice of pizza down. My dinner consists of pizza and french fries, two foods that I saved for special occasions in my thirties mostly due to having to pop an antacid before even daring tothinkabout eating them, but they have no effect on me now. Not yet.
“I’m not going to ambush Ellie in his dorm room.”
