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Reminds me of a time before I had a loving foster family that later adopted me. The time of my life I know I’ll never fully recall. Forever blocked from my memory as a small child.
I feel myself withdraw every time, and right now is no different.
Zoe senses my mood, and I jump when her hand touches mine.
“It’s okay Sheree. Niles is just being Niles… dramatic,” she tells me, reassuring me with a look, and patting my hand until I crease a smile.
Leaving the past where it belongs.
“So… you and him, there’s no...” I ask and Zoe makes a face.
“Ew. Of course not,” she hisses to me from behind her menu as she covers half her face with it again.
“He’s like old enough to be my dad,” she adds with a snort, noticing the look I can’t hide as I feel my face falling.
Feeling like I want the ground to open up under me and just get it over and done with.
So much for my Zoe with an older man theory to get me off the hook.
“You’re really worried, aren’t you?” she says, dropping the menu and looking genuinely concerned.
I feel a jolt of panic until she explains. “About going home. About your parents?” she adds, making it clear to me that my mind is someplace way different from hers right now.
She’s right though, so I can agree with her on that point. “Yeah, I guess I am. And the thought of leaving you here. This town… Niles,” I add. She pokes her tongue out at me before she shushes me to keep quiet.
We both notice him coming back over to our booth.
“Well, ladies,” Niles announces with the air of someone truly wronged.
“I shall have to find nourishment elsewhere as it seems this establishment doesn’t cater to the educated… the cultured mind and body of a trained theatric and a vegan!” he almost shouts, giving the waitress the evil eye before turning on his heel and stomping out.
“Aren’t you gonna go after him?” I ask Zoe, noting her look of apprehension.
“I guess I should,” she mumbles, waiting a minute for everyone to get back to their own business before she even looks out the window.
Niles is at the corner outside, tapping a toe on the pavement. Waiting for her to join him.
“And you?” she asks, looking apologetic.
“I really have to go pack,” I remind her.
Remind myself.
Again.
Just do it already, call home and tell ‘em you’ll be a few days behind. They’ll understand.
Zoe nods quickly. Still torn between staying with her bestie, and chasing after the man she’s sure is the next path of advancement in her acting career.
“Oh,” I suddenly remember, stopping her before she chooses Niles over me. “Your dad said to say how proud he is of you, he was gonna try and get down here...” I say, but Zoe rolls her eyes.
“I know he’s proud. But he’ll be busy packing all day to no doubt,” she adds looking huffy before giving me a firm look.
Suspicious again.
“How’d you know to tell me that?” she asks.
“Uhhh. I-I bumped into him on campus. On his way to his office,” I lie.
I hate lying to Zoe, and not only because she can see right through me.
The tap of Niles’ finger on the diner window saves me though, and in moments both he and Zoe are arm in arm, off down the street to find something more to his tastes for lunch.
Feeling my own belly groan, I study the menu. My mouth waters at the thought of a burger and fries with a milkshake.
My purse on the other hand?
It reminds me I’m practically broke and will have to settle for instant ramen and crackers in my dorm.
The only food I have left.
I sit in the booth for a while, thumbing my phone, remembering I don’t have Michael’s number or his direct office line.
If I ask Zoe for it, that would sound too suspicious, especially after the look she was giving me.
A look that tells me she suspects a lot more than just birthday planning going on between me and her dad.
Or am I just being paranoid?
I could call the college office. But on a weekend? Who’d be there to answer?
I jump a little as the waitress who was arguing with Niles appears next to me, a grim look on her face and a pot of coffee in her hand.
“You orderin’ or just warming the seat?” she asks in a gruff tone, making my lip tremble with emotion.
Making me almost start to weep on the spot for some reason.
“Alright, alright,” she groans. “Don’t get yer fanny in a twist,” she mutters, walking away and returning a moment later with an empty cup and a slice of pie.
“On the house. Somebody ordered it and didn’t want it. It’s yours now,” she rasps, pouring half a cup of stale black coffee before walking away again, still muttering something under her breath about kids these days.
