Page 22 of 518 Hope Ave
Ninety-nine and fifty… One hundred and ninety…Hundred fifteen… One hundred fifty dollars and twenty cents.
I sigh in relief as I finish counting my tips for the day. I'vealmostgot enough for a new washing machine now. I just needonemore day like this, and the Taylor's don't need to go to the laundromat anymore. But then I need to quickly start saving up to replace the money I had to borrow from Lucas's and Cora's respective college funds to get the car fixed.
Guilt nips at my heart. I know I have a few years before they need to dip into their college funds themselves, but I refuse to allow myself to chip away at that money the same way I ate through my own. I only let myself dip into it when it's anabsoluteemergency—which repairing our only car was.
I tuck my tips into an envelope and put them in my backpack, looking up from the table to glance outside the diner window. And there she is. Quinn. She walks past with what looks like a friend of hers, and our eyes meet. My heart leaps into my throat and hammers away, reminding me what an idiot I’ve been since biting her head off and insulting her the other night. My own prideful stupidity polarizes me.
As my eyes track her movement, hoping she’s about to come in here and do what I haven’t been able to do—come and talk to me—I’m forced to tear my gaze away when she gives me a sad smile before disappearing out of view.
Shit. My heart squeezes so hard that I struggle to take my next breath. I miss her sodamnmuch, but I clench my hands into the diner booth so that I don't run after her. Iwanther. I really do. My heart and soul actuallyachesfor her—her touch, her smell, her laughter.
But at the same time, I know I’m better off letting her go. I’m not enough for her. I’m too poor, too stretched thin, too full of frustration and anger at my position that the only thing I’m capable of doing for her is dragging her down with me. I know I was a jealous asshole with an ego as big as my wallet was empty the other night. I was one hundred percent in the wrong. And I’ll readily admit that any time you ask, but if the situation were to rise up again, I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t react the same way. I don’t want her to feel like she needs to save me. I’ve been doing this on my own for years, and I feel like less of a man eventhinkingabout accepting her help. I’m sure it seems stupid to some, but sometimes, your pride is all there is when you don’t have much. I need to let her go.
"All right, I'm off," I say to Caroline as I pass the till.
Caroline looks up from her receipts and smiles at me tiredly. "OK, Ezra. Remind me again when your next shift is?"
"I'll be here for tomorrow's afternoon shift," I reply. She nods in return and brings her attention back to the paperwork. I swing my backpack over my shoulder and make my way out of the not-so-crowded diner. "Amelia, David. I'm off. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye, Ezra!" Amelia hollers back with a wave while David nods and grunts a reply.
I scan the street unconsciously once outside and stop myself as soon as I realize what I’m doing. She would have been long gone by now.Idiot…
Longing and guilt dance along the walls of my heart. I wish I could have everything that I want. I wish I didn't have the life I currently have now…but I can't, and I do. There's nothing I can do about it except keep fighting and keep struggling forward. That's just the sad fact of life for orphans without a massive trust fund. It's the only way we can survive.
As I walk along the darkened street, an aching for my parents suddenly hits me. I quickly make my way into my car and struggle to keep my composure once inside, biting my knuckle between my teeth to stop myself from losing it completely. If I start crying now, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.
Am I making you proud? Mom? Dad?
I lift my eyes skyward then swallow down my emotion. I fucking miss them so much. Their daily shared laughter and obvious love for each other. Mom's pancakes and Dad's roast chicken. We were all happy once. It was all fine until that damned drunk driver smashed into them and drove off without owning up to their actions. The empty hole in my life left by them has been deafening, and the clamor hasn't quieted since that dark day four years ago.
Am I fucking this all up?
I am. Aren’t I?
Clenching my hand, I grip the steering wheel and roll my hands, the leather squeaking under my palms. Dad would have known what to say. Maybe he’d tell me that a man is a man by his actions and not by his situation. Mom would probably pull me into her arms, call me a silly boy for pushing Quinn away. And then what? I can't remember the sound of their voices anymore. But I need them. I need them. But I’m alone.
I don’t want to be alone.
19
Quinn
Ican't believe I let Sarah talk me into walking past the diner earlier. It waswaytoo painful, and now I feel even messier than I was before.
"But did you see the longing in his eyes?" she said when I was about to break down into tears in her car. “He misses you, Quinn. He’s just too stubborn to do anything about it. Some men are like wild horses. They want you to tame them, but they’ll bite whenever you get close. I really think he’ll listen if you go to him and talk.”
She was right. I did see the longing in his eyes. In fact, Ezra didn't look good at all—bags under his eyes, a slump in his shoulders. He seemed more tired and stressed than usual, and I wanted to just run inside and hug him and help him and tell him that everything was gonna be OK.
But I know that isn't what he wants. He said so.
Wrapped up in my oversized cardigan and a pair of sweats, I walk over to the kitchen and pop some leftovers into the microwave. It’s definitely going to be difficult, but Sarah was right about this too—wedoneed to talk. I saw the way he looked at me today. There is stillsomethingthere. He still cares about me. So maybe there's still a chance.
My microwave beeps and I take out my steaming hot leftover pasta bake. A barrage of pitter-patters land against my kitchen window, and I sigh, the rain the perfect soundtrack to the desolation in my heart. I lean against the kitchen counter and slowly munch through the hot, oozy, cheesy goodness.Perfectfor the crap weather that this evening just turned into.
As I eat, I continue thinking about Ezra and how I’m going to approach our conversation. Just because I need to speak to him and clear the air, doesn’t mean I know what to say. I could very well look at him and just shove my fist in my mouth. But at the very least, I need to find out if there’s still a chance for us or are we done? Can we fix the problems within whatever kind of a relationship you wanna call this, or are we just doomed forever, simply because I’m a little older and have more money behind me than he does?
Sarah thinks we'll be fine, as long as we talk through everything and come to comfortable compromises. Plus, she really wants to be a maid of honor at my wedding, so she's counting on me to make that happen.
