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He pulls away first. I accept that I’ve already clung on too long, and as I pull back, I’m caught off guard. It must’ve been my excitement, or some trick of the mind, but when I first saw him, I hadn’t noticed how he looked. Thin. Sunken-in cheeks. Bags under his eyes. His hair’s all over the place. His jacket’s faded,with tears along the seams. And there’s an odor like he hasn’t washed in days.
It all grounds me firmly back to reality. Makes me question this new job and the help I already had suspicions about.
But it’s still Brandon. That’s all that matters.
“Come on,” I say. “We’re a little early, but we can see if they have any seating for us.” I place my hand on his back and start toward the entrance, but he doesn’t come with me. As I turn to him, his expression twists up.
Something’s wrong.What’s wrong?
My gaze shifts to the car he got out of, and I notice another person—a woman, looks around his age—sitting in the passenger seat. A girlfriend?
For a second, I’m disappointed it won’t be just the two of us, but why is she still sitting in the car? Something isn’t adding up. I have a bad feeling about it, but maybe if I pretend this is all totally normal, I won’t scare him off.
God, just don’t scare him off.
His shoulders tense up as he notices where I’m looking, and I say, “Did you invite someone else? I’m sure we can get an extra seat, even if we have to wait a bit.”
“Troy, that’s not what it is, bud. I wasn’t thinking when I said seven. Realized I had somewhere I have to be tonight, but I really wanted to see you, so I figured I’d swing by at least.”
What little hope I had for tonight is already fading. He brought someone with him, and now he can’t even stay? Surely, he must know none of this sounds normal.
“This your ride?” He approaches my car and sets his hand on the hood. “Nice. You mind if we have a quick chat in here before I go?”
Another thing that’s not normal, but I’m at his mercy since I know he could flee with his mystery friend at any moment.
“Yeah, we can do that,” I say, unable to disguise my disappointment. I slide into the driver’s seat and unlock his door. He gets into the passenger side and closes the door, assessing the inside.
“This is like,reallyclean,” he says.
“Um…yeah.”
Not the conversation I thought we’d be having.
“Is it new?”
“2018, but runs really good.”
“Nice, nice.” He says that like he doesn’t really give a damn about my car. Not like the guy who used to really give a fuck about my life. Who listened to me ramble on about my school day. Who cheered me on through all my middle school football games.
The way his hand trembles against the console, his gaze flitting around as if chasing a fly, gives me the sense that something’s wrong here. Really wrong.
“Brandon, are you okay?”
He refocuses his attention on me. “I’m fine, bud. I got a lot going on with the new job. And I told you, I’m getting help now.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say, though I don’t believe it. “Your friend. Is that your girlfriend?”
“Sure, yeah. Been seeing her for about a year.”
Tension rises within me, but despite how fucking weird he’s acting and how uneasy I am, I try to keep in mind all those things I saw online about how to manage this interaction if I ever had a chance: focus on good memories, listen, don’t judge, firm boundaries, and safety first.
This is my chance. And there might not be another.
“I went to this Halloween party a while back, and I thought of you,” I say. “About when we were kids and used to get dressed up. Remember that year you went as Michael Myers? How it made me freak out every time you’d jump out to scare me?”
He laughs. “Yeah, I remember that, little man. Remember going back to the house and counting all the candy, and you didn’t like the Milky Ways, so you’d swap me for my Snickers.”
We’re both smiling.
