CHAPTER 7

"Hi. It's me
I missed you, I missed you
Yeah...I have missed me too"

- Nathaniel's Lyric Journal

"HEADS UP. ANGELA IS IN the parking lot" David muttered past me.

Peering from the cashier, I turned to the window to at the empty parking lot before turning back to David's smirk on his face. Angela was been to this diner with the same friends during my first week of work. David joked she was only there to see me, but I was not so sure. I learned quickly many people my age ritually came to this diner. The food served here was pretty good- my manager Lily made me try several times, and it was constantly filled with people around my age.

"I think you are overthinking this..." I hummed to David, counting the different bills deftly under my fingertips.

My mouth dried up when I was Angela walk through the entrance, walking alone towards the cashier. I lifted a hand to wave at her.

"Hey, Nathaniel," Angela said with a smile. Her long ponytail tilted when she angled her head.

"Hi Angela," I greeted her, pulling a nearby notepad by the cashier. "What can I get you?"

She smiled before she pulled out her phone from her pocket before showing it to me, leaning in closer to me. A vanilla scent appealed my senses while she pointed to the list filled with different orders.

"This is what I need she said. "And I this all to go."

I nodded. "Of course. Give me a minute to copy it down."

I wrote down the words quickly.

"Sorry for the big order," she apologized sheepishly. "I'm having a get together later tonight, and we are getting a lot of food."

I ripped off the order from the notepad with no hesitation. "Don't worry about it. It's great for the diner so no one is complaining."

She laughed before smiling. "I'm glad. How are you enjoying your time in Alabama so far?"

I peered up to Angela's easy smile. It was a disarming smile- or it was supposed to. If she was a girl in New York, I would've felt something for a smile like that, but I just felt empty.

"It's great," I rushed, not wanting to think too deeply about her question- holding back a potential spiral. "Still taking some time to adjust." 

Despite the light-hearted tone in my voice, it left a bitter after taste. This was not a surprise.

I learned a long time ago that the truth tends to do that. 

"You're right," she declared with a laugh, bringing her head back with another glittery smile. "There's not as much as New York City, but I can definitely show you some things to do around here sometime. Actually...you are more than welcome to join me later today with my friends if you have time."

That did not sound like a bad idea. I probably should have accepted it but the idea of going to talk and meet new people felt exhausting to me.

"I'm a little tired tonight," I told her honestly. "But honestly invite me next time. I will hold you up to it.

She stuck out a hand with her phone. "Here. Give me your number, and I can text you sometime later this week when I am free."

I took the phone and entered my number slowly. I handed her the phone slowly, her smile growing slightly bigger when her phone ended up back on her hand.

"Thanks Angela," I thanked her, unsure how to feel about the situation. "Your order should be ready in the next fifteen minutes. How do you want to pay?"

She pulled out a wad of cash from her bag and handed it to me. "This should be enough." She pointed to a group of friends that were watching us before turning back with a smile. "It seems like a friend is calling me, so I will be back for the order."

Angela gave another small smile before she turned walked away with a soft goodbye. I focused on writing down the order, my eyes scanning over the order one more time before clipping it up for the chef to take the order.

"And you don't think she is here for you. Are you really that clueless about someone making a pass at you?" a voice asked next to me. David was standing next to me, watching Angela interact with her friends.

I shrugged.

"I don't get what is the big deal is here," I replied, making every effort not to blow this out of proportion. I tried to ignore David and concentrate on my job before my boss fired me. David, who obviously did not care about his job more than mine, continued to distract me.

"Hanging out with Angela Becker and Elise Becker at the same time is asking for trouble," David continued. I stopped counting the cash in my hands, and dropped it on the counter.

"Hold up. Elise Becker? Are they related?" I asked incredulously, picking up the bills again. My mind was struggling to wrap its head around the idea of them being related. They are two completely different people. It's hard to believe that they are related. Hell, they are not even remotely resemble each other.

David laughed, rubbing the collar of his white uniform. "Half-sisters technically, but I wouldn't remind them though. They don't exactly get along."

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to warp my head around this new revelation but I was distracted by David's low whistle.

"Has anyone told you that you are annoying?" another person walked up to David with a smirk. David attempted to push her away but she slapped his hand away.

"Piss off," David muttered. "Don't you have anything else to do besides bothering us?" 

"You're an idiot," she bit back.

I chuckled quietly at the remark that I tried to disguise with a loud cough. David turned around with horror. "You did not just laugh. What happened to family comes first?."

The girl looked between us.

"You guys are related? Figures why you haven't ran away from David yet," she commented with understanding.

David gave her the middle finger. "You are the worst-"

"David! Sabrina! Stop harassing the new guy!" another voice intruded into the conversation. We all turned to see our boss heading towards us with an unpleasant expression. "Harass him after work."

Lily Saunders is a nice person despite her irritated look. Her black coarse hair was tied back, her tattered apron tied around her waist. Her skin matched her brown eyes, and her friendly smile made the diner more comforting. When I applied for the job, she hired me on the spot.

"I thought you loved me," David muttered disappointingly.

"I am not paying you to feel love. I am paying you to work. Business is slow today, so you guys can leave early. I will see you all on your next shift."

"Thank you, Mrs. Saunders," I said.

She waved planted a hand on my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. "Of course, handsome. I swear you are just as sweet as Anita. Definitely her soon."

"You knew her?" I asked with shock.

She nodded her head with a smile.

"That's why I accepted you. Your mom use to work at this diner years ago. My mom was her manager back in the day. I'm sorry for what happened to her by the way. I heard about her passing through the grapevine."

I nodded with a painful smile, feeling the familiar stabbing all over again. The bracelet around my wrist felt heavy with questions that had no answers, and the only thing that was attached to me that reminded me of Mom.

"Thank you. I'll see you at my next shift," I responded hoarsely before leaving the diner in a hurry.

"What are you doing here, Yankee?" Elise immediately asked when she turned her head to watch me walk towards her. She was wearing jeans and a gray, t-shirt. Her hair was in a loose, intricate braid, allowing small pieces to fall over her face.

The summer was shining down on the soft grass. The oak-brown trees were towering over me with its snapping branches and crackling leaves. As it was getting closer to the evening, the sound of crickets was getting stronger to signal the end of the day.

I was not entirely sure why I decided to walk towards the cliffside again. There was a strong pull that drew me to this simple place. I did not expect the town to remember my mom, but some people do. Hearing Mrs. Saunders speak about my mom made my mind spiral. Hearing everyone apologize about Mom dying made my thoughts scattered.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I tried to spend part of the time looking at the bracelet on my wrist. Every image I had of Mom in my phone showed no picture of the bracelet.

La tracioné.

La tracioné.

La tracioné.

"I live nearby, so this shouldn't be that much of a surprise, " I said instead, shoving my hands in my pocket and unsure what to do from here. I took a seat and leaned against the tree trunk, looking straight at her. She had a sketchbook on her lap with color pencils scattered around her.

Her golden eyebrows arched. "I haven't seen you all this time, and suddenly you happen to be here after seeing me couple of days ago?" she asked curiously, scanning my body.

I shifted, duly noting my wet hair that was probably making the collar of my polo wet. I ran after work, prompting me to shower. However, the amount of sweat that is on my face from the heat made me question my decision to go out.

"Just exploring new areas," I explained casually, watching her. "Do you have a problem with that?"

She shook her head with a hesitant smile.

"I don't. How are you?" she asked, looking at me.

"I'm alright." I looked at the unconvinced look that was growing on her face. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged almost too innocently.

"You look like you didn't sleep," she commented.

I blinked at her candid response.

"What does that mean?" I asked curiously.

She shrugged.

"Honestly? It means that you look weak to the bones," she answered softly. She opened her mouth like she was about to say more before she clamped it silently to almost stop herself.

I blinked.

"Oh."

I knew how obvious my exhaustion was, but it was still a surprise to hear so I didn't say anything to it. A silence has descended between us. I took a deep breath, looking at her. She was doing the same, tapping her fingers against her pants in silence.

"So," I began awkwardly.

"So," Elise repeated.

"How's the burn?" I asked, looking at her arm, diverting the conversation off me.

She pulled it out to show the burn. The bandage around her arm no longer was there. The burn was red, but no longer irritated.

"Alright, thanks to your handiwork," she informed me. ""Why did you come here, Nathaniel? The real reason."

I paused at the conversation. I didn't know. Even though the home was not that big, I felt lost. The quiet in the house was not enough for me. I felt like I was being suffocated. My legs walked autonomously on their own, walking outside on the porch and towards the wood.

I didn't expect her to be there.

"Honestly...there's not much to do around here." I confessed, looking at the different trees.

When I was not with family or talking friends in New York, I was moping around the house. Dad was working, I would visit my cousins. Even then most of them were working or busy so it resulted in many hours of laying on the couch in my own misery.

"Is Alabama too boring for you, Yankee?"

"It's not an easy adjustment. Sue me," I responded, feeling suddenly defensive.

"I don't blame you. Alabama can be...slow at times," she agreed with minimal reaction. "Why move from New York?"

I made a face at the curious look on her face.

Hearing the same question should make it easier, but it was the opposite: it only gets harder. It's confronting the reality of my situation. Not my mother's death necessarily but my family dissipated, and I was alone.

I was alone.

Every morning, I woke up and tell myself the same thing: it's just one day, one twenty-four-hour period to get through with her dominating your thoughts. I don't know when these daily pep talks started. Most likely because the minute I woke up, Mom was in my mind. It sounded like a mantra for addiction recovery program, and people have gone through worse, but I was drowning in my mind.

People say that it gets easier with time. A month after her death, I realized that this was false: the tears just stop. The feelings you have, the helplessness and loss, stay forever. It lingers in your mind, coming at the smallest triggers.

"My dad wanted a change in scenery," I answered carefully. Though it wasn't a lie, I knew it wasn't the full truth either.

There was a nagging feeling growing in my stomach when I turned to look at her. She tilted her head.

" I guess you miss New York then, huh?" she asked curiously, sensing the change in atmosphere. She placed her sketchbook on the side, and turned her body towards mine. She brought her knees up, and she wrapped her arms around her knees.

I nodded. "Of course. I miss my old friends and school. I miss walking everywhere. Here, you can't do much. It's much more slow pace. Everyone looks the same and nothing like me at all...I feel out of place... I'm just not use to it..." I trailed off when I realized that I was ranting. "Just realized I am ranting."

She shook her head with a smile. "Not ranting. Just speaking your mind. Do you think you are going back?"

I nodded, despite not giving much thought to that. "Definitely will be applying for college there for sure. I'll be a senior this fall," I stated, realizing how much is going to change in the fall. "It's stressful. You'll probably figure that out in a year or so."

She frowned at that comment.

"I am applying for college this fall because I will be a senior too." She did not say anything before wrinkling her nose. "How old do you think I am?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. A sophomore?"

As she angles her head slightly towards me, there was a slight moment, just above her cheekbone, that I thought was a tear, but no-just the warm June light briefly bouncing off her smooth skin. She appeared youthful, almost innocent from the world.

"Why do you think I'm younger? Am I not mature enough for you?" Elise asked me, crossing her arms. She did not sound accusatory or out of outrage: her voice was methodical. Her voice was soft, wafting in the gentle breeze.

Something rushed through my chest.

I shook my head.

"No, you just don't have that look..." I trailed off.

An eyebrow rose up in curiosity.

"What look?"

"That crazy, demented look on your face because you are graduating in a year or so. You know? You cut class and get drunk at high school parties because you realize a part of our life is over," I explained. I wonder if I will feel the magnitude of finishing school or would it be a dull nostalgic feeling in comparison to what I felt now.

Not noticing a change in my demeanor, a small smile crept on her face. "Is that how you described seniors? You don't seem that demented look though," she observed, looking at me curiously.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," I responded, glad she didn't think I was that crazy given how we met. "I'm sure I'm demented somewhere. I'm just better at hiding it."

"Behind that suave, New Yorker façade I suppose," she joke at me.

I laughed at her word choice. "I don't know about suave. People here expect me to be this cool, New Yorker, but I am not. It's definitely a façade for sure."

I never experienced this urge- feeling the urge to tell her to look beyond the façade I have up. The walls that were built so high that I am not sure how to take it down. The walls shielded my flaws that protected me from the false sense of security that everything will be okay.

"I noticed."

There was a silence between us. She looked at me for a brief moment before she picked up her sketchbook again and returning to her sketching.

I sat there, watching her draw. I was unsure what to do now as the conversation died down.

"Any idea what you want to do in life?" I asked her.

She looked up from her sketchbook and shrugged.

"I don't know. That stuff makes me so stressed," she said nervously, hugging her legs closer. "It's weird to think about that."

"I'm sure you will figure it out," I said with as much optimism as I could muster at that moment.

She nodded. "Thanks for having faith."

She pulled out a flip phone she had in her pocket. When she opened her phone, her eyes widened at the sight. She slammed her sketchbook shut and immediately stood up.

"Shit," she muttered loudly.

"What is it?"

"I'm late for something. I have to go," she explained in a rushed tone, ending the conversation again. She began to pick up the color pencils on the ground, putting them in the worn-out box on her side. She collected it quietly, getting up with her items in her hands.

"Don't stress about this," I said without any thought.

She looked at me. Her cheeks turned red, and a lock of her hair fell over her face, which she pushed back quickly.

"Thank you. I will see you around, Nate," she said with a smile. The corner of her eyes crinkled with her soft smile. She clutched her sketchbook against her chest while holding her color pencil box as she walked passed me. Her head turned slightly to look at me one more time before she walked back.

"Nathaniel. It's Nathaniel."

She stopped walking, and turned around.

"I'm sorry. I just assumed you go by Nate."

I shook my head. "Some people call me Nate. I like the way you say my full name, princesa."

Her cheeks turned a bright pink before she rolled her eyes.

And for the first time, even though it was only for a brief moment, I remembered how to breathe again.