Page 2 of Forever After Never

I was a mere twenty years old when they died. They were the only family I had. Everywhere I looked reminded me of them and the accident that led to their death.

I try not to think about it too much. I try to bury my trauma as much as I can, and not solely the trauma from their death. Sometimes, it pops into my head, and I cannot swallow it down.

My parents died in a road traffic accident on the way home from the theatre. There were watchingShakespeare's Hamlet. Ironic really, as everyone dies in that play, too. There was heavy rain, and they careered off the road into a lake. I was away at university at the time, studying English Literature. Due to my class schedule, I hadn’t been home for a few months. I desperately wanted to be a writer when I was younger and could not wait to leave my home life behind. Part of that dream will never leave me. I worked so hard and never made a lot of friends at university because all I wanted to do was study and not party. So, when there were university events, I was writing.

The accident changed everything. My parents simply did not exist anymore, and it was a stark reminder that the one certain thing about life is death.

I wanted to move as far away as possible. Four months after their deaths, I dropped out of university and moved to America. The inheritance that my parents left me allowed me the opportunity to do this. I was left enough money in their will to buy somewhere to live and to pay for my legal fees – of course, I am sure my parents would never have imagined that I would have moved thousands of miles away, but here we are. I always had a glimmer of hope that they would be proud of me, but I know that is far from the truth. We were never especially close. In fact, I am confident that they resented me, given that I was ‘an accident’ and they were both very accomplished people. My dad was a science professor, and my mum was a book editor. Having a child was never on the cards for them, but they were still my parents and all I had. Their deaths broke me. I mourned the loss of them but also the loss of the relationship I never had with them. Although I had never truly felt loved by them, after they died, my life became emptier than it had been before. Silly, I know, but part of me always wanted to share my life with them and seek their approval, and that chance had been taken away from me so suddenly.

I didn’t truly understand until they died, but my entire life had genuinely been loveless.

I had the love of my friends but never the real love of my parents or a partner, and it was all I’d ever known. I’m sure they thought they did their best for me, but their best was less than most parents' minimum.

When I moved here to America, I stayed in some Airbnb houses in the short term before settling here. But this truly feels as if it was always meant to be my home. As soon as I moved to Pine Harbour, I bought my place and have not looked back. It is a three-bed house, not too flashy, but perfect for me. The house holds a lot of personality. I know which stairs squeak when you stand on them, which windows you need to open to get theperfect amount of breeze, the noises that the pipes make, and each sound the house makes when it is first thing in the morning or last thing at night. Being a homebody means that I made it my own immediately. Given that I love bright colours, the first thing I did when I moved here was paint my front door a perfect bright yellow. The rooms are all mismatched. There is bizarre art on the walls that I found at Goodwill. There is no theme. Nothing matches, so everything matches. Everything in America is so much bigger than it is in England, so this probably seems modest to a lot of people, but to me, it’s huge. The backyard is big but basic. It is perfect for Jed, my dog. Jed (Jeddy bear, Jedediah, Jedster) is a Lab cross. What his breed mix is, I do not know. He is black and white, wire-haired, and weighs seventy-seven pounds. He is a big doofus but is very protective of me. I will always trust Jed if he doesn’t like a person, but I willnevertrust a person if they don’t like Jed.

I haven’t gone back to England since I got on the plane to fly to America. I think most of the reason that I’ve never felt the need to go back is because of Alice. There was nothing left there for me apart from memories that weren’t particularly happy. My life started when I got on that plane.

Alice moved to America soon after me. She is the most spontaneous person I have ever met, and she will always be my saviour. I will never be able to put into words what it meant to have her with me in the months and years after my parents' death. I would never have asked her to come, but one day, about six weeks after I moved, she turned up on my doorstep with a duffel bag. That was all she brought with her.

“Stuff is just stuff.” she shrugged when I asked her what the hell she was doing.

Alice then moved around every Airbnb with me, and we have been inseparable ever since.

When I bought my place, Alice moved in with me for a couple of years, and after working up the corporate ladder, she was able to buy her own apartment. It happens to be five minutes from my house, so we still see each other daily. I may not believe in romantic soul mates, but Alice is as much of a soul mate as I need. She is batshit crazy, but she would do anything for me, and I her.

A voice snaps me back to reality, and I realise that I have spent the last thirty minutes of my shift thinking about my parents and the life I have built here.

“Go home, honey. We are almost done here, and there isn’t much left to do.” Edith is as close to Mrs. Claus as you can get. She is my boss, older than me by about thirty-five years, and is an honest-to-god angel.

“Take that cheesecake with you, too,” she says while stuffing a box in my hand. I usually work between six a.m. and two thirty p.m. each day. I am usually morning person, but by the time my shift finishes, I am ready for sleep, or for caffeine. My workday ends, while most people are on their lunch break.

Edith runs a well-known diner in the town,Edith’s Kitchen.I have worked here for a couple of years now. Although this is not what I wanted to do with my life, I love this job. Cooking is a passion of mine, and I get a little creative freedom here, so it may be a diner, but it isn’t your usual burger and fries kind of place.

“Thanks, Edith,” I yawn, trying my best to stifle it, as I pull her into a gentle hug. I glance at my watch as my arm wraps around her shoulder.

“Shit!” I say to myself. It’s three-thirty, and I was supposed to meet Alice thirty minutes ago. I quickly ran to the restroom to change and head out of the diner door at three-forty. Way later than I should have done.

Alice is calling me as I leave the diner.

“What time do you call this? I am already two coffees down!”

“Sorry, Ali. I got caught up at work.” I didn’t want to tell her that it was because I was lost in thought about my parents dying and being unloved my whole life. “I will be there as soon as I can.”

“Good, because if you don’t hurry up, I will drink your coffee too, and then you’ll have to deal with me on a caffeine high and the subsequent crash. If I die of a caffeine-induced heart attack, it will be your fault!” She feigns annoyance and ends the call.

This is what I adore about Alice. She always has a flare for the dramatic, and it makes her more loveable. She also treats me no differently than anyone else.

In a weird way, I like that she jokes about death with me. She doesn’t walk on eggshells around me, and I need that.

Chapter 2

Autumn

The smell of coffee and the sound of people’s chatter envelops me as soon as I walk in the door. Ground and Down coffee shop is one of my favourite places. Alice gives me a wave from our table. After speed walking here in ten minutes, I am a sweaty mess and can feel my jacket sleeves stuck to my arms. My palms are also sweating from carrying the box of cheesecake that Edith gave me. Never have I been so thankful that I have my arms bare underneath this jacket. I had my painted-on jeans, ankle boots, and pink camisole in a bag in my locker, so that is what I ended up wearing. My hair was scraped back into a low pony for work, and I wore minimal makeup today. Mascara and lip gloss were the extent of my effort, which is probably good because I would have sweat it all off by now anyway. I peel the jacket off my arms and throw it over the back of the chair. Another caffeine worshipper opens the door, and the cool breeze dances over my bare arms and feels heavenly on my sweaty skin. Although as thecold of the air meets the heat of my skin, my arms immediately break out in goosebumps.

“How do you do that?” Alice feigns annoyance. “How do you have barely any make-up on, have your hair scraped back into a ponytail, you’re sweating like a nun in a cucumber field, yet still look so fucking good? I hate you.” She slides a huge mug of steaming hot coffee towards me. “Caramel cappuccino, with cinnamon on top.”

“Thanks, Ali.” I sigh as I lift the mug, taking a deep breath in of the sweet, hot liquid. “Work was crazy today,” I lie. “I’m sorry that I’m so late.”

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