SARAH
“EARTH TO SARAH.”
I blinked as Marnie waved a hand in front of my face.
“Lunch rush, T minus ten minutes. Can you clear the tables by the window?”
I nodded, bit my lip. Marnie shot me a skeptical look, then gestured toward the gray busing bins as if I needed more direction. I grabbed a dish towel from the tub of bleach solution that was discreetly hidden behind the counter and headed toward the tables, bus bin propped on my hip. Marnie clucked her tongue behind me, which I interpreted to mean I wasn’t hustling enough. Whatever.
The day started well enough. Mom had been pleasantly surprised when I appeared—showered and dressed without prodding—and joined her for some granola-topped yogurt. When she dropped me off, I felt something on the edge of cheerful.
Walking into Adele’s always gave me a little lift. I loved working in my aunt’s café. The decor was quirky and eclectic. Light fixtures made from kitchen utensils and colorful glass hung from the ceiling. Mismatched tables and chairs of various sizes were arrayed across the dining area. A modern interpretation of Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party encompassed the far wall, where people lined up for sandwiches and pastries. The overall effect was homey and made customers want to linger.
I swore today would be a good day. And it was, until Aunt Sophie asked me to write up the daily specials. As I set myself out front with the sandwich board, poised to write the date, my breath caught.
August seventeenth.
Mine and Alex’s six-month anniversary.
How did I not know it was the seventeenth?
I scribbled the specials on the board, trying not to give in to the rush of thoughts and feelings the date brought up. It was futile. Even as I took breakfast orders from my place behind the counter, I couldn’t help but think of Alex. Our first kiss at his house. Walking hand in hand in the halls of school. The dusty-blue prom dress I’d bookmarked online but never had the chance to buy.
My throat tightened as I approached the row of doubles by the long window that looked out onto the boulevard. I began with the table closest to the door, wiping the surface until I could practically see myself in it. Until I had no choice but to move on to the next table.
His table.
It was the only double with a large wingback chair the color of Kermit the Frog. Anywhere else in the world, the chair would have looked out of place, but it fit at Adele’s. Alex loved that thing, sat in it while he tutored kids in science and math for community service hours.
I sat down, bus bin on my lap, and carefully cleared the dirty dishes. I closed my eyes and put my hand on the table, as if Alex could place his hand in mine. I tried hard to conjure the brush of his fingertips across my palm, the exact stormy greenish gray of his eyes, but it was hard to maintain focus. A flash of his face, and the image would dispel.
Once upon a time there was a boy named Alex McKenna. He was my best friend’s brother, and that’s how I saw him for most of our lives. Ash and I had been besties since second grade. Fate and classroom geography had put us together. Our mutual admiration for Rainbow Dash and One Direction further solidified our bond. Alex was always in the background: listening in on our secrets at sleepovers, bombing us with water balloons on the back deck, gloating over kicking our ass in Mario Kart.
At some point, he stopped being obnoxious and treated us more like friends. Like when he’d hang out with us as we binged The Vampire Diaries for the tenth time. Or when Ash convinced him to let us make up his eyes because we wanted to practice winged eyeliner techniques we’d seen on YouTube.
He was ours until high school, when his ability to sink a three-point shot catapulted him to hometown-celebrity status. Girls stalked him. He was dating a senior when he was a sophomore. He’d attended so many proms that he actually owned a tux. It easily could have gone to his head, but it didn’t. Through it all, Alex remained Alex. Slightly goofy when you really knew him, but always able to charm the room.
Once Ash and I started high school, she relished the perks of being “Little McKenna”—invitations to parties, the inside gossip at Saint Aedan’s, upperclassmen kissing her ass when we were lowly sophomores
. As her best friend, I got perks by association. Not popularity exactly, but an occasional brush with it. We found our own circle of friends—an ever-changing cast of classmates from jazz band (Ash) mixed with drama club (me) with a dash of the occasional random hookup and their friends. Alex, while in a completely different social circle, never ignored us.
That was why I didn’t think much of it when he started using Adele’s as his tutoring home base. Lots of people did that.
Sometimes I’d take my break when Alex was between sessions. At first it was by accident. I dropped off the cinnamon streusel cake he’d just ordered and was about to head into the back for my break when he asked me a question.
“So, Vampire Diaries . . . were you really rooting for Klaus and Caroline to get together?”
“That’s random,” I said.
He smiled. “We were just doing a rewatch.”
“You? A rewatch?” I said, sitting across from him and pinching off a small corner from the slice of cake. He laughed and pulled the plate closer to him. “Hey.”
“It’s my break, I’m hungry,” I said, laughing.
“Fine, then.” He teased me with the cake plate, pushing it forward, then pulling it back when I went to take another piece, a playful look in his eyes.
“That Klaus guy, he’s pretty evil.”
“Well, he’s a hybrid vampire/werewolf, Alex, not an Eagle Scout,” I said.
“Okay, but he’s pretty much the worst. Just wondering, why is he your favorite?”
“Wait, did I ever say that?”
“Ash might have let that slip,” he said.
I laughed, a little embarrassed. Why was she sharing our fangirl convos? And wait, Ash was rewatching TVD without me? Alex sat there, his eyes on me, twisted little smile on his face.
I shrugged.
“He’s evil, but somewhere deep down there’s good in him. I think Caroline brings that out.”
“Right, even after he killed her boyfriend’s mother,” he said, as if we were having a rational conversation about people we knew.
“Okay, so that was awful, but he saves her. They have some sort of sexy, strange, love/hate chemistry; that’s hard to deny.”
“Sexy, strange, love/hate. You like the bad boys, then,” he said, arching an eyebrow.
“Are you analyzing me using Vampire Diaries? Like a human BuzzFeed quiz?”
He laughed. “Maybe.”
It was a silly conversation, but I couldn’t deny it was the highlight of my shift. I convinced myself that our conversations were strictly friendly. That it didn’t bother me the week he missed coming in to tutor because he was sick, or when he was out of town
at a basketball tournament. And even if I was developing some sort of feeling for him, it was fondness—like big-brotherly admiration. It was nice being friends with him on our own terms. Something separate from my friendship with Ash, who would probably go ballistic if she thought I was thinking about Alex in that way.
The day we acknowledged our mutual feelings was the day I teased him about his choice of seating.
“Why do you always pick the ugliest chair in the place?”
He sat up straight, brows knit as if he was mildly affronted, and ran his hands down the arms of the chair, caressing the worn fabric.
“Ugly? I love this chair.”
“Love? That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Nah, makes me feel important, like I could be, I dunno, hosting a talk show or running a country.” He stuck his chin out and mean-mugged for a moment before we both broke into a fit of laughter.
“Oooookay I apologize,” I said. “Since you feel so strongly about it.”
He leaned back, held my gaze.
“Besides it’s the perfect place to sit and people-watch,” he said.
I stood up and started clearing the table. He was expecting another student soon. I needed to get back to work.
“Sar . . . wait, didn’t you hear what I said?” he asked.
“Um, yeah, perfect place to people-watch,” I answered. I felt that way too. People watching was pretty much one of my favorite pastimes. Lots of character study.
He laughed, shook his head.
“Okay, more specific,” he said. “One person.”
“One person,” I repeated.
He widened his eyes and pressed his lips together, holding back a grin.
It took a moment for my mind to catch up that he was talking about me. The room became instantly hot. Then I saw something in his eyes I never had before—uncertainty. He was serious, maybe even a little nervous.
“Anything, Sarah? I’m dying here.”
I laughed. All those feelings that I’d convinced myself were platonic suddenly morphed into something else entirely. I liked him. Liked him, liked him. Maybe all of that was apparent in my eyes because his expression relaxed.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“What time do you finish work?”
Not soon enough.
“Hey, no time for a nap!” Marnie’s shrill voice and nudge to my shoulder brought me hurtling back to the present.
I stood up. “Marnie, it’s the seventeenth. I got lost for a moment. I’m sorry.”
Her kohl-lined eyes softened.
Deceased boyfriend trumped lunch rush.
Marnie wasn’t a friend exactly, but she was more than a coworker. She was taking classes at Cedar Hills Community College and had plans
to eventually transfer to a four-year school. She used to roll her eyes at how swoony I became when Alex was around, but she was kind when it counted and had been patient with me in the weeks after his death. It had been almost four months. I knew her tolerance was wearing thin though.
I followed Marnie to the next table. She cleared the rest of the breakfast dishes and placed them into the bin I was holding as she spoke.
“Look, I get it, Sarah, I really do, but today is also the first day of the new semester at CHCC. Any minute there’s going to be a hangry mob lined up out the door. I need you.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Lunch rush was the perfect antidote to feeling sorry for myself. I pushed thoughts of Alex away for a moment and dealt with the ever-growing line of customers. I wrote checks, packed pastries to go, and turned tables over in seconds flat. Before I knew it, two hours had passed and the worst of the lunch rush was over. The work had been strangely exhilarating. I felt accomplished, at least momentarily.
Still, that bright and shiny Pandora’s box of memories in my head beckoned. Adele’s was the one place where Alex was solely mine. It was the place I could remember him best, maybe that’s why I spent most of my summer picking up shifts. I knew once school started, things would change and my memories would fade even more.
I grabbed an iced coffee and retreated to the calm of the break room, phone in hand. The break room had the same charm as the front of the house. Mismatched and homey. I got lost in the cushy couch, propping my feet up on the coffee table as I sipped my drink and checked my messages.
There were ten from Ash. I scrolled through, stopping at a selfie on the beach.
Wish you were here! Bored AF!
She looked tan and happy, even though I knew she was showing me her highlights reel. It was good to see her smiling.
The McKennas were in the Outer Banks the last two weeks of August for a family reunion, with lots of cousins and extended family in a ginormous house on the beach. Ash had invited me to go, but my mother thought two weeks was too long, and we couldn’t work out the logistics for a shorter stay. Another time and place, I might have been more disappointed, but I was almost relieved. I’d always felt at home with Ash’s family, but witnessing their grief and measuring my own against it had made me feel like an intruder. It was hard to know the right thing to say or do.
The next message was about missing the BF, Mike. Had I seen him around?
I thumbed in my reply.
How can I see anyone when I have no life? Bored AF! For real!
Which was better than saying, “Hiding out at work, going out of my way to avoid true human interaction!”
I heard a knock and looked up to see Aunt Sophie leaning against the doorjamb, signature baby-pink baker’s jacket splotched with what looked like red velvet cake batter. I reflexively pulled my feet off the coffee table, even though she gestured to relax. She smiled.
“Are you busy?” She tilted her chin toward the phone.
Those three little dots told me Ash was still typing. I shook my head and put the phone facedown on the coffee table. Something about her expression made it seem like she wanted my full attention. My stomach clenched.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
She came over and sat down on the other side of the couch. She waved off my question. “Yes, yes,” she said. “Just wanted to check in, see how you were doing.”
“Oh, yeah . . . I’m, you know, good,” I lied.
“You sure?”
I nibbled my straw a moment, winced. “Did Marnie tell you I completely flaked out?”
She laughed. “Not in those words, just that you were preoccupied.”
I nodded. That was a nicer way of putting it. “I’m sorry. I know CHCC is back in session and things are busy. I didn’t realize what day it was. The date sort of blindsided me.”
“The date?”
I nodded. “It’s mine and Alex’s six-month anniversary, or, you know, it would have been.” The words left my lips and sounded so damn pathetic; my eyes pricked with tears. In reality we had been together two and a half months before he died. What claim did I have?
“I know it’s stupid to count like that,” I said, swiping my eyes.
Aunt Sophie moved closer, gave my knee a squeeze.
“Hey, I get it. Holding on to good memories is never stupid,” she said. “But do you think maybe . . . well, your mom and I were
talking—”
I sat upright. “Please don’t fire me.”
“What? No. Why would you think that?”
“Because I’m pretty sure I know what you’re going to say. I’m working too much. I should be out living my life. Mom said as much this weekend when I pulled a double on Saturday.”
She laughed. “You know I love having you here, Sar, but you are pushing the limit of child labor,” she said, a little teasing, a little serious. “When school starts, I’m cutting your hours to two days a week.”
“Wait, really? What about weekends?”
“How about every other weekend?”
I frowned. “I know I’ve been spacey. I promise I’ll snap out of it.”
“It’s not a punishment, Sarah. Look, it can be a trial run, and of course if you really want to pick up a shift or I desperately need my macaron taste tester, then we can play it by ear. I get the feeling you’ve been hiding out here, with all the extra shifts. You’re going to be a junior, you should, you know, get out more, experience life.”
Before I could respond, Marnie poked her head in the room, looking between Aunt Sophie and me. “Am I interrupting?”
“Nope.” Aunt Sophie replied.
“Sarah, there’s—”
“I know, I know, I have to clear the lunch dishes,” I said, standing up. Maybe if I ducked out of this conversation quickly, it would be like it never happened and Aunt Sophie would forget, and I could continue to push the limit of my work hours.
“Uh, yeah sure, but that’s not what I’m here for. Some guy is asking for you.”
“Me?”
“See,” Aunt Sophie said, standing up. “It’s like the universe is demanding you participate in life.”
“Who is it?”
Marnie shook her head and pouted. “He’s tall, sullen. By the register.”
I grabbed my empty cup and dumped it in the bin as we walked out of the break room. I went through a mental checklist of all the “tall, sullen” guys I knew and came up empty.
“He’s also kind of cute,” Marnie said, raising her brows playfully, before pushing through the swinging doors.
My eyes met tall, sullen, and kind of cute.
I smiled.
Jake Hobbs.
What could he possibly want?
JAKE
IT WAS A MISTAKE AMBUSHING SARAH AT WORK. MAYBE surprise would be the better word. That was a nice thing, right? I was sort of a friend, checking in on sort of a friend. Besides, I had news to share, and since I didn’t have her number and school didn’t start for a few weeks, casually dropping in at her workplace was the only way I could see her.
“Dude, you could say something like ‘I was just passing by.’”
Alex, for real? That’s such a cliché. Why don’t I just dazzle her with some dad jokes to break the ice? I don’t need your advice on how to talk to girls.
“So you do want to talk to her?”
Only because I have something to tell her.
“No other reason? Yeah, right.”
I’d been consoling myself with these conversations with Alex since his death. I knew that sounded one jelly bean shy of being completely fucking bonkers, but my therapist, Dr. Hipster, had assured me it was a coping mechanism, and unless Alex was telling me to hurt someone or myself, then it was a way for my brain to come to terms with the fact that he was gone. In a small way, it made it seem like he was still around, like we could shoot the shit about life and stuff, the way we always had.
Well, are you going to say something?
“Hey, Sarah,” I said.
“Hi, Jake,” she said.
“Um, I was just, you know, passing by—and thought I’d check in to see how you were doing.”
“Oh, wow, um, thanks, I’m okay, I guess. How are you?”
Shitty. Stressed. Hearing the voice of my dead best friend.
“I’m, you know, okay.”
We stood there an awkward moment, then laughed.
“So, I’m here—” “Today’s been—” We spoke at the same time.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” I asked.
“No, you go first,” she said.
“I’m actually here about Alex’s bench.”
Her brow furrowed.
“You know, the one Coach Callard’s family had dedicated to him, in the park? I got an email this morning that it’s there. I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to check it out?” I was about to say with me, but that sounded too much like I was asking her on a date, which I wasn’t, because who would ask a girl on a date to see a bench dedicated to the memory of her dead boyfriend?
“Seems like you just did, Hobbs.”
Not now, Alex.
“Today?”
“Well, sure, I guess so?” I don’t know why I made it sound like a question. It was the whole reason I ambushed—I mean, checked in on—Sarah at Adele’s.
Her face brightened, like the sun came out from behind the clouds in her eyes, and she flashed her knockout smile. There was the Sarah from the McKennas’ house. The girl on the back deck in the black bikini. The one who’d occupied my thoughts a good portion of junior year, even before I realized it. Before she was Alex’s girlfriend.
“I still have about an hour till my shift is over,” she said.
“That’s cool, I could, um, come back, or hang out,” I said.
“Yeah, hang out. Want something to drink?”
“Ah, sure, water?”
“Boring,” she teased. “No, really, get something. My treat.”
I looked up at the menu. Three large chalkboards with small fancy writing. The words swam. Why was I so nervous? I’d been in championship games, six points behind with the clock running down, that had made me less jittery.
“Why don’t I surprise you with something,” she said. “Go find a seat.”
“Cool,” I said, even though I was anything but in that moment.
The place was packed. I spied an open table by the window with a large, green, velvety-looking chair and headed toward it. The chair was way more comfortable than it looked. I closed my eyes and sank into it, fatigue sneaking up on me. I must have dozed because when Sarah placed the dishes in front of me, I startled.
“Maybe I should have
brought you an espresso instead of a lemonade,” she joked, slipping into the seat across from me. “You really okay, Jake?”
There was something about the way she said it that made me believe she truly wanted to know the answer. Her eyes were sincere, or maybe it was the way her voice softened around my name. It felt like I could totally unpack my shit with her and she’d be okay with it, although I wasn’t about to do that in the middle of her work shift. I leaned back, took a deep breath in.
“Yeah, just, you know, tired. This looks great, by the way, thanks,” I said, suddenly starving. I broke off a piece of the cookie and scarfed it. ...
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