more reason for people to talk. His eyes watering, Andrew has been at this crossroads before. I have a feeling he’s been here a lot. And I also think I’m the thing keeping his feet tethered to this side of the line this time.
When our eyes finally meet, Andrew almost looks as if he’s apologizing to me, sorry that I am witnessing any of this. It’s more than being embarrassed; it’s being ashamed. That one look from him breaks me and resolves me all at once.
I smile and hold up a finger, my shift in mood halting him for long enough—the few seconds I need to slide out of our booth. I hear his feet shuffle behind me, and I turn to see him starting to step out behind me, but I smile bigger and hold a hand up with a wink. “Just give me a sec,” I say.
Andrew looks uneasy. I feel uneasy. But I also feel right about this, so I keep walking toward the group of seven strangers until I’m leaning over the counter next to the stools they’re gathered around at the other end of the restaurant. I purposely brush the arm of one of the girls to get her attention, and she apologizes and steps from her seat to give me room, assuming I’m trying to reach for salt, or napkins, or any of the other tiny things piled in a basket near them.
“Oh, no. I just heard you all and thought I’d come over to join in. You’re talking about the Harpers, right?” I say, glancing from one set of eyes to another, an interested smile on my face feigning that I also want in on this oh-so-fun gossip fest. They all look uncomfortable, and the girl closest to me—the one who moved out of my way—keeps looking over my shoulder toward Andrew, as if she’s trying to clue me in that I should keep my voice down.
“Oh, I know, you’re totally right. I should be quiet, huh?” I whisper. “I bet he can hear me.”
I leave my eyes on hers for an uncomfortable amount of time. There’s a flash of guilt in them when I say it out loud, publicly acknowledging that we heard everything. And normally, I’d stop there; she’ll learn a lesson from this, and probably not gossip about the Harpers except in the privacy of her own home for at least a month. But that look on Andrew’s face sticks with me, so I take things just a little farther.
“You know, I hear there’s a foster home around here that takes care of kids who lost their parents to horrible accidents or illness. Maybe when we’re done here, we can go make fun of them for a while, tease them about how they’re going to die in car crashes too one day. Or…or…wait! Even better…let’s make one of those viral videos where we wake people up in the middle of the night and remind them that their loved one is dead. That would be awesome…no?”
A can see a chill fall over them all, and the guy who was talking the most five minutes before, swallows hard. We all hear it. I step closer to him, letting my fake smile fall back into the hard line my mouth wants to make. “Or, if you’d rather, you can just keep being assholes over here, and I’ll go back over there and try and ignore you,” I say, pleased at the regretful feelings I’ve nurtured. “Your call.”
I reach to the counter, grabbing a bottle of ketchup, then spin on my heels and walk back to Andrew, who’s still sitting with his legs stretched out underneath the booth, munching on his fries one at a time. He doesn’t look up at me when I sit back into the booth, and he never glances up when I twist the cap off the ketchup, pouring a small amount on the corner of my plate.
When I’m done, I move the bottle on the table until it clinks against his plate, and I let my hand rest flat on the space between us. After a few seconds, the group I’d just left leaves the restaurant. Neither of us turns to look—the only confirmation, the small chime of the cluster of bells tethered to the door. Once we hear the sound of their cars pulling from the lot just outside, Andrew reaches up, sliding the bottle out of the way, and takes
When our eyes finally meet, Andrew almost looks as if he’s apologizing to me, sorry that I am witnessing any of this. It’s more than being embarrassed; it’s being ashamed. That one look from him breaks me and resolves me all at once.
I smile and hold up a finger, my shift in mood halting him for long enough—the few seconds I need to slide out of our booth. I hear his feet shuffle behind me, and I turn to see him starting to step out behind me, but I smile bigger and hold a hand up with a wink. “Just give me a sec,” I say.
Andrew looks uneasy. I feel uneasy. But I also feel right about this, so I keep walking toward the group of seven strangers until I’m leaning over the counter next to the stools they’re gathered around at the other end of the restaurant. I purposely brush the arm of one of the girls to get her attention, and she apologizes and steps from her seat to give me room, assuming I’m trying to reach for salt, or napkins, or any of the other tiny things piled in a basket near them.
“Oh, no. I just heard you all and thought I’d come over to join in. You’re talking about the Harpers, right?” I say, glancing from one set of eyes to another, an interested smile on my face feigning that I also want in on this oh-so-fun gossip fest. They all look uncomfortable, and the girl closest to me—the one who moved out of my way—keeps looking over my shoulder toward Andrew, as if she’s trying to clue me in that I should keep my voice down.
“Oh, I know, you’re totally right. I should be quiet, huh?” I whisper. “I bet he can hear me.”
I leave my eyes on hers for an uncomfortable amount of time. There’s a flash of guilt in them when I say it out loud, publicly acknowledging that we heard everything. And normally, I’d stop there; she’ll learn a lesson from this, and probably not gossip about the Harpers except in the privacy of her own home for at least a month. But that look on Andrew’s face sticks with me, so I take things just a little farther.
“You know, I hear there’s a foster home around here that takes care of kids who lost their parents to horrible accidents or illness. Maybe when we’re done here, we can go make fun of them for a while, tease them about how they’re going to die in car crashes too one day. Or…or…wait! Even better…let’s make one of those viral videos where we wake people up in the middle of the night and remind them that their loved one is dead. That would be awesome…no?”
A can see a chill fall over them all, and the guy who was talking the most five minutes before, swallows hard. We all hear it. I step closer to him, letting my fake smile fall back into the hard line my mouth wants to make. “Or, if you’d rather, you can just keep being assholes over here, and I’ll go back over there and try and ignore you,” I say, pleased at the regretful feelings I’ve nurtured. “Your call.”
I reach to the counter, grabbing a bottle of ketchup, then spin on my heels and walk back to Andrew, who’s still sitting with his legs stretched out underneath the booth, munching on his fries one at a time. He doesn’t look up at me when I sit back into the booth, and he never glances up when I twist the cap off the ketchup, pouring a small amount on the corner of my plate.
When I’m done, I move the bottle on the table until it clinks against his plate, and I let my hand rest flat on the space between us. After a few seconds, the group I’d just left leaves the restaurant. Neither of us turns to look—the only confirmation, the small chime of the cluster of bells tethered to the door. Once we hear the sound of their cars pulling from the lot just outside, Andrew reaches up, sliding the bottle out of the way, and takes
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