Being here makes me want to dye my hair and smoke again. Something about the stifling loneliness triggers a deep need to punch things, to stay out late, to go to all of the parties. Even in this diner, with its cheerful gingham tablecloths and crackly music, the red vinyl brings out bloodlust.
I watch two high schoolers share a milkshake. Ten minutes. We’re meeting at 10:15, but I came early, just in case. Theo used to hate my chronic tardiness, so when he gets here, I can joke about how I’m a better person now. I’m not late anymore. I won’t miss his sister’s funeral again, won’t show up to his cello performance thirty minutes late with a half-hearted excuse. I’m a better person now. I’m a better person now.
My knuckles bleed in the winter. No matter how much lotion I apply, they always crack, little bloody dips and valleys forming between fingers. Some jerk in middle school took one look at them and told me my hands were disgusting. The next winter, I bought a pair of fingerless gloves and kept them on.
It’s 10:07, now. A waitress comes over. She clearly recognizes me.
Sherry?
God, my high school nickname. Hi…Abby, I say — I really hope that’s her name — hey, I’ve missed you! I didn’t spare her a single thought after we graduated. I need to stop being so critical. Abby was one of the nice ones. No, wait, was that Alyssa?
You too! she squeals, although I can see her coral-painted smile flicker for half a second.
Okay, so she isn’t Abby. Aren’t you some big-time lawyer up in the city now? Why are you back?
Theo, I say.
Right, she says. Her lips flatten into a paused heart rate.
No, I realize, Abby died years ago. I remember reading an obituary. Alcohol in her blood and on the headrest and on the highway. Unless I’m seeing things again, this isn’t Abby. So… who is it?
Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, right? not-Abby says. At the service?
Of course, I reply. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Can I take your order? For the first time, I look away from her face and see her name tag. Alex. Wait, who the hell is Alex?
Uh…yeah, I’ll just have coffee, thanks.
I check my watch again. Five minutes to go. Theo was always early, the antithesis of everything I stood for. He must have changed since I last saw him; in every other reality we co-existed in, he would be here by now.
She writes it down, then pauses, looks me in the eye.
I worked at this diner with you for two summers. We were in the same senior-year English class, she murmurs. Alex tucks her notepad into her apron pocket and walks away. Still no recollection. The accident must have altered my memory or something, because the only name taking up space in my brain is Theo, and it’s expanding, pushing on the limits of my skull. I think it might make my head explode.
Junior year, after New Year’s Eve sparklers and a haze of champagne, Theo told me how stupid he thought New Year’s resolutions were. He was going through a bit of a time-is-a-social-construct phase.
What differentiates first thing in the morning on January first from any other moment, he muttered, a little drunk and a little delirious. I mean, who says I can’t make a resolution at, like, four o’clock in the morning on a random Saturday?
Nobody, I said, laughing.
A few weeks later, he came up to me in the hallway. I resolve to finally learn how to drive, he said. This year, I’m finally gonna do it.
I resolve to force you to drive me everywhere once you do that, I responded. I resolve not to let my evil, manipulative best friend coerce me into being her personal chauffeur, he said.
He did end up learning how to drive, although he was horrible at it. I resolve not to die in a fiery car wreck, he told me after barely passing his driver’s test.
I resolve for you not to do that, either, I said.
I’m wearing mittens and a puffy coat. I don’t take them off, even when Alex comes and pours coffee into my mug; I just pick up the mug with marshmallow hands and try to avoid spilling it. It’s nearly 10:15, now, and still no sign of Theo. Maybe I had too high hopes for him. Of course, when I heard that life-altering news a few days ago, I realized that there was a possibility he might not be able to make it anymore. But we’d made plans to meet up today months in advance, and the Theo I knew and loved would never have let a small inconvenience get in the way of seeing me.
As the clock reaches its hands towards 10:16, then 10:17, then 10:18, I realize he’s not coming. Of course not.
Waiting for someone? Alex asks, refilling my coffee.
Not anymore, I say. I get up. I take my purse. If someone comes in asking for me, tell him I’m at my parents’ house and that he owes me.
Okay, Alex says. It was nice seeing you again, Sherry.
You too, Alex, I reply. She gives me a sad smile. See you tomorrow?
Yeah, I’ll save you a seat. Alex pauses. I used to be close with him too, you know. I didn’t realize you guys were close.
Yeah. We stayed in touch after graduation. You know, we were both at college in Boston. She’s taking her time with her words. I get why you liked him so much.
I leave, the bell on the door ringing behind me like my tinnitus. It’s freezing out here, and I can feel the skin on my hands stretched taut, numb and bleeding. I turn the heat in the car up as high as it can go.
I go back to my parents’ house. They’re both at work, so I scream into a pillow and curl up in the fetal position. I’ve been sleeping in my childhood bedroom and having the same nightmares as eight-year-old me. The American Girl Dolls lining my shelves look like they want to throttle the adult me, an intruder in their otherwise idyllic life.
I sit down at the tiny desk. I reread Theo’s obituary. He promised me, I think. He promised me he’d be there today.
Maybe it’s the caffeine, but my head is buzzing, and I’m pretty sure it’s his name again, pushing my brain, arteries, and sinuses out my ears until there’s nothing left but white noise and residue.
I take a shower. It doesn’t stop. I lie down and wait for his ghost to leave, but he doesn’t, just watches and slowly shakes his head. I think he resents me.