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Jordan
Snapping the small square packet, I stare at the steam spiraling up from my coffee cup as Rick rambles in the booth next to me. I rip the top off the sugar, and the sweet smell brings Evan back to the front of my mind.
“Hey, brain-dead.” Rick hits my shoulder, and the sugar spills across the blue and white plastic table cloth at Angela’s Diner. The little overlapping circles like ocean waves with frothy sugar crests. “I asked you a question.”
I shift against the cracking powder blue vinyl seats as we wait in the brightly lit, but almost empty restaurant. “Sorry, man. What did you ask?”
“I asked if Annie texted you. She’s been calling me non-stop, asking if I'm still with you. Told her to call you if she’s so concerned with what you’re doing.” Rick’s voice falls to a hush while he spins a spoon against the table top.
“She is your cousin...” I say and Rick glares.
“I ain’t her keeper, though. Or yours. You know how I feel about that.” Rick slides the little ceramic bowl that holds more sugar packets my way. I don’t respond. He understands what Annie is to me. She’s like a cigarette; I inhale her as deep into my lungs as I can, but the more often I do it, the duller my senses get and the more of her I need. Like a cigarette, I get how she’s bad for me. I’m completely aware she does nothing other than slowly kill me one breath at a time.
“No, she hasn’t called,” I say, sliding out my phone. A green clock on the screen ticks by the seconds, and my gut falls. No text from Annie. Or Evan. I don’t know which bothers me more.
The jangle of the door explodes my thoughts to dust and gives me the answer to my above quandary.
I hope to see her chocolate waves and steel-barred eyes, but it’s not Evan, and my heart plummets. It’s Hector’s scruffy mug and lopsided grin, followed by the rest of my old friends. It’s a strange feeling to miss both girls at once, to think about them simultaneously.
Annie makes me desperate. Desperate to be with her. Desperate to wrap her up, chain her down, because she’ll wander. She’ll always wander.
But Evan is different. I realize I’ve known her only a few hours, but I give my heart freely. I always have. Annie had me in the time it took to make one cup of coffee.
Evan has me in another way. I want to see Evan not because I need to see her. I want to see her again because I don’t feel desperate with her. It’s not panic that consumes me when she’s around. My jumbled thoughts sort themselves into neat little rows when she's beside me.
I tug at the pen around my neck as Hector, Sarah, Nate, and Steve pile into the huge crescent shaped booth tucked in the back of the diner. I touch the tip of my pen to the table cloth and begin to write.
The wave of you, flowing, falling. Hold me up, breathing, believing. Keep me above, floating, freeing. A sea of nerves, exciting, enlightening.
“Such a romantic,” Hector says, bumping my arm and causing the pen to elongate the swoop of the g. I make a short “hmm” sound, but I don’t argue. I’ve never argued it. I’ve never cared to. One of the only things my dad taught me that was worth something was that I should never apologize for loving something.
“Compassion, empathy, and love are not signs of weakness, son,” he said when I was eight, his arm around my tiny shoulders. The tears spilled down my cheeks as my brother dug a small hole in our back garden. I had apologized for crying over our cat, Sammy, because I loved him, but I shouldn’t have because it wasn’t my cat. My friend had also told me boys don’t cry about stupid dead pets. Dad crouched down to my height and squeezed my shoulder. “The heart is a muscle, Jordan. It must be used to be strengthened. Everyone has one. Boys, girls, men, women, cats, dogs... everyone. If you don’t exercise your ability to love, your heart will grow still. Don’t ever let your heart grow still. Even if it hurts. Especially when it hurts.”
Dad gave that advice, but in the end, he never heeded it. His heart didn’t grow still, but without Mom, the thing he chose to love most was something that could never love him back. Instead he slowly grew cold.
I was less than a year old when Mom died and don't remember them together. I remember Dad going to work, and as the years passed his hours got longer, his time with us shorter. His love affair took over everything else in his life. Money is what he chose to love.
But money is as capable of disappearing in the night like everything else. Money is as capable of clouding your mind and twisting your reality. Money causes people do stupid things.
Just like love.
“So where’s that Evan girl you were with earlier?” Sarah leans forward and wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Speaking of romantic. I am one hundred percent sure this love bet was your idea.”
I shrug and snap my pen into its cap. “Yeah. She looked so sad. So closed off. I didn’t think she’d actually go for it.”
Sarah reaches across the table and pats my arm. “You’re still taking in stray cats, are you?”
“Bitch,” I tease and toss her hand off my arm so I can take a drink of my coffee.
“You know what I mean, Jordie.” Sarah gives me a knowing smirk, having helped me cart food around my old neighborhood and leaving tins of cat kibble out for strays. When I was a kid, I always felt guilty they never had a person to love and pet them. Feeding them became a habit. Sarah is a couple years younger than my brother, and when they dated I spent a lot of time with her. That was when I started to get into writing. She’s the one who convinced me to give the band Sugar Coated Highway after Dad was sent to jail.
I never get a chance to argue because the waitress shows up in her messy bun and bored expression. She sets a large steel carafe of coffee on the table and turns to leave without speaking. I have been coming to Angela’s Diner with Hector and Rick since I was in ninth grade. Sarah, Nate, Steve, and John have hung out here even longer. No one is shocked by the lack of service. It’s actually what I like best about this place. No one bugs us every ten seconds about how our food is, if we need more, if we want dessert, if we’re splitting the tab or whatever else they ask. It’s almost like hanging out at home. If you need something, you go get it. It’s comfortable.
“You never did answer the question.” Hector glances over at me while he pours his coffee. “Where’s the girl?”
“Evan. The girl's name is Evan. And I don’t know. She might not show.”
“What?” Nate acts mock offended. “I thought we were her favorite band, like, ever.” He impersonates a ditzy sounding girl, which is not at all how Evan sounds. Sarah pushes his head to the side in mock irritation.
“They had to do a parental check in,” I lie because I don’t want to air Natalie’s secrets. It’s no one's business, not even mine. Even though I know how she feels.
The first time I caught Annie cheating was the summer between freshman and sophomore year, after having sex for the first time. After weeks of fighting. My dad had just been denied his appeal, and my brother had been appointed my legal guardian. My life was upside down and the only tether I had was Annie... or so I thought. She pulled the world from under me the night she said, “I’m seeing someone else, Jordan. I’ve been seeing him for a while." I wasn't even her first.
Looking back, I see the signs that even then I was slowly losing her. She stopped framing my poetry. She would stare straight ahead at the TV when all I wanted to do was talk to her. She would say, “It’s okay, baby, I’m here,” when I needed her, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t there. Thinking about it now, I wonder if I ever actually did have her. If she ever was mine to lose.
My phone startles me when it beeps, and I flip it over, my stomach mimicking the motion.
Hey, Bro. I’ll be late. Save me a stack, K?
I shake my head at my disappointment that it wasn’t Evan when the door jingles again. Natalie enters first. She looks around wearily, and I wonder how two people become so close. Nat anticipates Evan’s movements as if she’s ready to catch her at any second. I think of earlier when Evan fainted, and my heart jumps at the thought.
Evan walks into the diner with her guard up and her eyes locked and barred, her hands twisting and turning something grey. My hat. I completely forgot about my hat.
She faces me, and her features brighten only when she sees me. I feel like the most important person in the world. Like I’m bigger, faster, stronger, or more than anyone else here. It’s only a smile, but I could survive on it.
“You came,” I say when she reaches the table, and her lips stretch wider. No matter how hard I tried to make Annie smile, when she did it never made my chest tighten like this.
“I had your hat.” She waves it between us then drops it in front of me. “And seeing as I’m leaving forever and all, I figured you might want it back.”
I reach for her hand as she slides into the booth next to me. She wiggles as tight as she can to my side, and I put my arm across the seat behind her. Natalie sits heavily next to her. I poke her shoulder, leaning forward to catch her eye. I attempt to emote my understanding. Her returned expression is forced but appreciative, her eyes sad. She shrugs and shakes her head, indicating that she doesn’t want to talk about it. I wonder if that’s what I look like—bruised and broken inside a plastic shell.
“Good of you to join us, ladies,” Hector says, watching Natalie a little closer than I’d like, given her circumstances. “We thought maybe you’d had enough of this guy.” He pushes my head to the side. I duck into the crook of Evan’s neck to get away, my nose drawing a line up her skin, her syrupy smell distracting me. She shudders. I can't stop my mouth from placing a kiss on her jaw.
“Nah, he’s all right, I guess.” Evan shrugs me off.
“We didn’t really have anything else to do anyway,” Natalie adds as the waitress approach the table, her expression even less enthused than the last time she stopped by.
“Some fake girlfriend you are. What happened to us, Evan? I thought we were in love...” I say dryly, but the laughter at the table around me mixed with the bitter expression of the waitress adds to the surreal-ness of the night. I’m not sure I’d say this is the strangest night of my life, but it’s definitely top five.
“What can I get for you?” The husky voice of the waitress doesn’t suit her slight frame. Nate holds out the lone menu and shushes everyone.
“One of everything on the breakfast menu, please.” He waves the menu at the waitress' now shocked features. Hector leans forward quickly, his hand in the air like a child in school.
“And three extra stacks...”
I shoot my own hand in the air. “Four. Four extra stacks.” Evan turns to me with these adorable eyes that tells me she definitely doesn’t have brothers.
The waitress regains her composure and grunts while she scribbles on her notepad and leaves.
“Shoot,” Evan says. “I wanted a tea.”
“There’s coffee here,” I reply, nudging a cup her direction. She exchanges this really strange glance with Natalie before shaking her head.
“I can’t... I mean, I don’t drink coffee.” Her cheeks go pink, and I’m split between two reactions—running my fingers over her skin and finding her adorable for being easily embarrassed, and being confused as to why not drinking coffee is embarrassing.
“I’ll get you a tea. What kind?”
“It’s okay, I’ll get it.”
“No, I want to fetch your tea,” I say in my best English accent, which is pretty terrible.
Hector punches me. “Are you practicing for London, mate?” He jokes, but my body goes cold. Evan and Natalie turn to me, and I elbow Hector.
“Dude...” I now need to go get Evan her tea and bounce some of this energy that exploded through my body.
“You’re going to London?” Evan’s voice is breathy as if she’s been dreaming of going forever, but I can’t appreciate it through my irritation.
“I’m not. He’s being a dick.”
Evan sits back slightly and cocks her head to the side.
Dammit. She sees through me. I scoot her and Natalie out of the booth and avoid the subject. “What kind of tea did you want?”
Evan still watches me, inviting me in, inviting me inside to tell her my secrets. I feel them trying to get closer to her. They want to reveal themselves, and if she doesn’t hurry up and tell me what she wants I don’t know what the next thing out of my mouth might be.
“Peppermint, please.”
I spin halfway through the word, and she grabs my hand, stopping me. “Thank you, Jordan.”
My mouth stays clamped shut, but I nod quickly. I lean over the counter to get the waitress’s attention and order Evan her tea. The door jingles, and I’m hit with the cold air swirling in, swallowing me in goose bumps. I turn to see who it is and grin.
“You look like such an idiot, Lane,” I say to my brother, standing in the doorway. He’s wearing a fitted black coat and scarf. So very fashionable. So very Lane.
“That is no way to greet your brother.” He punches me in the chest, and I curl in to absorb the hit. “Did you save me a stack?”
At least he's still my brother—my brother wrapped in a douchey package. Although Lane's always been into that fashion crap.
The waitress tosses the pot of water and tea bag on the counter with a gruff, “Here ya go.” I catch the table out of the corner of my eye, and Evan is staring at me with a horrified expression.
I know we are both definitely keeping things from each other, and I want to know what she’s hiding, but I can’t really ask her. I am scared if I do, she’ll ask me what my freak out was about two minutes ago.
“What are you staring at?” Lane turns as Evan shoves Nat from the booth and they basically run toward the bathroom. “Who was that?”
“A girl I met at the concert,” I say, and Lane lets out a sigh of pure relief.
“You’re finally off Annie? Please tell me you are.” His eyes hold the same concern they always do. Same concern they always have. Being six years older than me, he has always worried. Worried when mom died, and I was too young to really understand. Worried when Sammy died even though he was his cat, not mine. Worried when Annie cheated on me the first time... and the fifth.
I grip my brother’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what I am, bro. But right now, all I’m concerned about is pancakes.”