Chapter 3 #2
He wouldn’t stop talking. His face pointed toward the tree above us, every expression shining under the broken rays of the sun through the leaves. I hadn’t seen him like that since we were teens—talking about nothing and everything in the private fields we found behind my house.
With every name he mentioned, matching faces flashed in my mind. The time Moon caught us drunk out of our minds in those fields. His face had gotten so red with anger, I thought he was going to kill us. Not only had we drunk our livers to death, but we’d trespassed.
Star, with her beautiful curly hair and bright smile. She was always so smart, so determined to live life as independently as possible. I’d always lose at every card game she’d play with me because strategy won over luck, neither of which I had much of.
Mr. and Mrs. Miller, clad in their yoga clothes, rolling out mats for all of their “kiddos,” which included me. How they made their home mine as well, making sure I had a portion of dinner to eat and my favorite incense stocked in their cabinets.
Tears started to prick my eyes, my mind and body, so overwhelmed with memories but nowhere for them to go. “Please, stop.” I didn’t want to cry. There was no reason to cry. “What the hell are you doing?”
Crescent turned onto his side, his long, dark hair falling over his shoulder.
I watched it settle into place, the long, loose ringlets flowing with the light breeze.
“I’m filling you in on everything you’ve missed.
I’m including you in my life because I miss you, Elio, and I’m willing to try even if you won’t talk to me. The question is, are you?”
“It’s been years.”
“I’ve missed you for years.”
“You don’t know me anymore.”
“Then let me get to know you.” His eyes narrowed as he shook his head, almost in disappointment. “It’s simple, even if you don’t think it is. I can’t pretend I never saw you, or that we don’t live in the same town now. I can’t pretend this doesn’t feel like something I shouldn’t give up on.”
Laughter echoed in my bubble, ringing in my ears.
It was his, and mine, harmonizing together without a care in the world.
Loud, carefree, and full of joy. I let it fade, the sounds dying down.
“You gave up back then, why not now? I’m not the same stupid kid from high school.
The world isn’t as vast and exciting as I used to think.
The hell does it matter we live in the same place? ”
The grass parted as Crescent shuffled upright. He sighed, the sound mixing with the wind. “Is your name Elio Hampton?”
I squinted at him. “Yes.”
“Then you’re still you, dude. Some things might’ve changed, but you’re still my best friend, and I want to know the adult version of you. The grown-up version.” He shrugged. “I didn’t give up on you back then; you just didn’t let me try. Let me try this time.”
I should say no. I should tell him I don’t want to know him anymore and run away. Instead, I turn my head and meet his eyes. They glisten so beautifully under the sun, pulling me toward him. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He took a deep breath before standing and holding his hand out to me. “I’m starving. Let’s go eat.”
Studying the hand offered to me, I looked at him suspiciously. In the end, I let him pull me up and guide me to a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant I’d never been to.
We took a booth seat toward the back, facing each other with the menu spread out on the table. “You know I don’t have any money on me, right?” I peered up at him.
“I didn’t ask you to pay, did I?” He smiled.
I rolled my eyes and focused my attention back on the menu before me.
I still hadn’t eaten today, and I was starving, but I didn’t want Crescent to know that.
He still wore his dirty apron, white powdery stains decorating it.
He’d never shown an interest in baking when we were in high school.
In fact, he could barely cook back then, never mind make baked goods.
The sandwiches caught my eye, all of them packed with carbs, a mound of meat, and hopefully juicy veggies. My stomach growled beneath the table, loud enough for Crescent to pick up on it.
“Order whatever you like. My personal fave is the Philly cheesesteak.” He moaned, his eyes fluttering closed. “God, it’s so good.”
“Going based off your reaction, I think I’ll get that, then.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Good choice.”
We ended up ordering the exact same meals, down to the soda choice. It reminded me of simpler times, always getting the same thing because our tastes were almost identical. Neither of us was picky, but we both despised asparagus and beets. Anything else was fair game.
Crescent had this look on his face, like he wanted to ask questions.
It was the same as years ago, where his mouth would part slightly, and his eyebrows would dip just enough to be noticeable.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to truthfully answer any of them, so before he could ask them, I interrupted him.
“Never thought I’d see you at a bakery, Mr. Burns Everything He Touches.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “I’ve gotten a lot better, just so you know.”
Fuck, I’ve missed that snort. His laugh could heal a hundred wounds. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Is that why you moved here?”
“Nah.” He paused when our server came by with our food. “I wanted to be somewhere smaller and start over, you know? I needed a clean slate with no memories attached. Baking was added later.”
The sandwiches were stacked high, full of juicy-looking cheesesteak and all the fixings. I immediately dived in, taking a huge bite and scarfing it down. I couldn’t control myself, fueled by the starving need to get food into my stomach as quickly as possible.
I felt his eyes on me, but I was too hungry to stop. I shoveled a few more bites into my mouth before I slowed down and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “This is so good.”
“Damn, dude. I guess so.” He was laughing, and it didn’t sound like he was judging me, but I couldn’t be sure. After all this time, something must’ve changed in him.
Shrugging him off, I took a long sip of my soda. “Do your mom and dad still live in Heaton Springs?”
He tilted his head down, staring at me. “You’re kidding, right? Don’t you remember Star crying at the dinner table when we were, like, fourteen because Mom said she’d bury her bones in that house?”
I laughed, much too loud for the tiny place we were in. “Holy fuck, yes. She had so many tears in her eyes, they just started falling, and your mom was all, “Oh, honey. Don’t cry.” But it only made Star cry harder.”
“And then Moon told her that when we’re old and senile, we’d have to watch over Mom and Dad’s ghost in the house to make sure their spirits didn’t get lonely.” He was laughing too, hunched over the table, a full belly laugh erupting from him.
The memory played so clearly in my mind—Mr. Miller scolding Moon, Mrs. Miller putting her face in her hands, shaking her head in disappointment. Star was terrified of ghosts at that time, and that family dinner had only made it worse.
That memory spawned another one, then another, until we were crying from laughing so hard as we rehashed all of them. So many joyous tears, embarrassing moments, and times we should’ve gotten into big trouble, but didn’t. I’d spent so much of my time with the Millers; they were my real family.
Our plates had been empty for a while now, and our cups were refilled at least seven times before I noticed the sun setting lower than before. My heart rate picked up, a dark patch looming over my very soul as the invisible wings between my shoulder blades began to wilt and die.
“Shit,” I cursed, pulling out my phone and checking the time. 6:02 PM.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I stood from the booth, cutting Crescent off mid-sentence. How had we been here for so long? How had I gotten lost in our memories, when I knew I had no place in them anymore? There wasn’t a shred of the old Elio in my body, not when he’d been beaten out of the shell I called my own.
“What’s wrong?” Crescent looked up at me, his eyes frantic, his brows up and alert.
“I gotta go.” I tried to grab my phone, which I’d dropped onto the table in my panic, but instead, I knocked over my soda. It spilled everywhere, the ice clattering and falling onto the floor. “Fuck!”
Crescent stood from the booth as well, placing a hand on my shoulder. I flinched. I couldn’t help it. I fucking flinched and moved away, a burning starting just below my diaphragm. My breaths were too choppy, too uneven. “Hold on, what’s wrong? El, you’re scaring me, dude.”
“I gotta go home. I gotta go home.” My tongue couldn’t form anything else, repeating the phrase over and over.
“What’s at home, El? Why are you freaking out so much?”
I grabbed my phone and turned, facing him. My fingers were cold and numb. So numb, I wasn’t sure if they were still there, or if they’d still work. “Jude.”
And that’s all I said before sprinting out, running down the roads, ignoring the pain in my side as I overexerted myself.
When I turned the corner, my house came into view, and my heart dropped straight into my stomach. Jude’s red truck was parked in the driveway, and up the steps, right on the porch, was Jude.