Page 72 of Last Letters to Ara
“You’d never forget that face, or that hair, or those eyes,” Susan says with a little blush.
Something in the back of my mind stands up and dances, demanding my attention after flying under the radar for too long. Theo told me he heard the diner had great waffles, yet the morning he found me here, he’d said he already ate. He didn’t eat a thing at the diner, but especially not any waffles.
What reason would he have to mislead me for his reason for being at the diner? Because I am certain that he wasn’t here for the waffles.
“Otherwise, are you managing things okay by yourself?”
Susan’s question reminds me that a world still exists outside my Nancy Drew moment. “I am, actually. Things were a bit tough at first, but I quit the café and found a great job.”
“That’s great news, but I hope you know that if you ever need work, you know I’d take you in a heartbeat.”
“Thanks, Susan. I appreciate that, I really do.” At least I have a backup plan should I manage to mess things up at Jane’s. “But I really hope I’ll make it on my own.”
“Your dad was already so proud of you.”
“I know, but I still want to do it for myself.” I need to know that I can make it on my own.
“Ah, yes. That is the most important thing.” Susan grabs my hand from across the table, giving it a squeeze. “You remind me a lot of your dad.”
Bittersweet gratitude begins to fill some of the emptiness I woke up with in my chest.
Maybe today doesn’t have to be as bad as I thought.
• • •
I was delusional.
Today is horrible.
Tied for the worst of all time, actually.
I’ve just finished an entire box of tissues and ugly-cried throughout the entire running time ofThe Iron Giant. We used to watch it at least once a year together, followed byIce AgeandShrek. They were the only movies that entertained me as a kid, but were hilarious enough that Dad didn’t mind watching them over and over. It became our tradition, even into adulthood.
We would sit down with a bowl of popcorn and say our favorite lines when they came on, never failing to make us smile. Today, they make me cry. Hard.
The kind of sobs that wrap you around a toilet and wrack your bones, leaving you sore from exertion. Yet no matter how much your muscles ache from the endless hours of grief, it will never come close to the ache in your soul.
The deep, festering wounds with no cure, no off-button, and no relief in sight. Just the terrifying truth that the hollow, excruciating emptiness which was once filled by someone you love, will never be whole.
I grab another box of tissues, hit play onIce Age,and brace myself for the memories, the sad realization hitting me that they are the only things I have left.
• • •
Looking at my phone I realize that it’s nearly 7 PM.
Time has seemingly ceased to exist, yet didn’t pause its torment, the growing pile of snotty tissues the only indication it was passing at all.
Deep down, I know I won’t survive if I stay in this apartment for the rest of the night. I decide to do something I’ve never done before, something that any normal person my age would do, but for me it’s a cry for help ringing loud and true.
Finding the least detestable looking bar that Google has to offer, nestled into a rich area of St. Pete where the well-off trust fund kids hang out, I copy it into Maps to get directions. It’s got a hipster vibe, and surely hipsters don’t date-rape.
Let’s give it a whirl. The night couldn’t get any worse after all.
The bar is pretty far from my house, but I was right, it’s nice. Everything appears to be vintage, and it gives off such a classic vibe that I can’t imagine anything seedy going down here. It’s not the sort of place that the riff-raff would frequent; though, after making the bathroom my first stop to clean myself up, I see that I could pass for captain of the riff-raff judging by my appearance.
Luckily, I wasn’t wearing any makeup today, so there was nothing to streak down my face. I brush out my hair with my fingers, blow the remaining snot out of my nose, and hold my face in the cold water that I’ve cupped in my hands in hopes that it will reduce the swelling around my eyes.
I’m not really sure why I came here. I guess it’s because Dad used to tell me these crazy stories from his youth, doing unthinkable things in unsupervised pastures scattered around Iowa. His stories were always entertaining, playing the part of a different person, before he had responsibilities that came with falling in love, becoming a widower, and ultimately being a single dad.
