Sometimes they met where it’s always midnight, the orange fluorescent glow of the streetlight was still warm. Most nights, she’d wait for him at the bus stop, in the shadows where no one could see her. Occasionally, a jitney passed by slowly, rounding the bend before accelerating into dead air. It was the only part of the evening when she could hear herself clearly thinking, “Just five minutes more; he’ll be here,” and “Leave now.”
She adjusted herself one last time flipping open her phone and started her “I’m going home,” text until she saw headlights curve ahead. A navy blue SUV slowed, windows rolling down as smoke poured out of the passenger side window. “My bad, it wouldn’t start,” he explained. She rolled her eyes before walked towards the car, pulling open the stiff door, digging her heels in for support. “What went wrong this time?” Ceta asked. “What you mean? I said I’m sorry. I would’ve called you but I’m already over my minutes.” Q replied. “What was the issue? Engine? Starter? What?” Q stayed silent. Ceta sucked her teeth while reaching out to adjust the radio dial only to be met with more silence. “I thought you were getting this fixed. And can you put that out please?” she asked pinching her nose. Q took one last long drag before tossing his lit cigarette out of the window cranking his arm aggressively to roll it up before pulling away from the curb. “It’ll get fixed,” he responded. Oh, I meant to tell you, my ceremony’s on the 25th at nine a.m. I already ordered your ticket.” “Hmm?” she asked, already having begun thinking about her remaining plans for the evening. “My graduation, remember? It’s at nine.” She studied his profile closely as he forcefully pushed and pulled his steering wheel to make a rather wide left turn. Q explained the details of his ceremony, as if Ceta hadn’t attended one before. His voice faded to unintelligible murmurs while Ceta noticed how smoking was beginning to take a toll on his smile. She watched as the muscles in his neck expanded and contracted as he swore at careless drivers in between sentences. His once neat beard now giving way to stubble and ingrown hairs. He pressed his lips together tightly as he tapped his fist over the dashboard a few time times before the music blared from the shallow sounding speakers. “There it is,” he stated jolting her from the trance she’d fallen into while staring at the dark creases forming between his otherwise perfect teeth. “I’m probably gonna miss the ceremony. Sorry. I have to meet with my study group for finals. Maybe your mom will tape it for you?” she questioned. He looked at her, briefly took his eyes off of the road, then returned them swiftly. “I don’t know if she’s coming,” he said. I’ll ask her.” As they drove through several empty intersections, Ceta toggled with whatever radio station she could actually hear before settling on the original setting. Q looked at her failed attempts in his peripheral vision, silent to avoid further conversation. They stared at the road ahead, with only the staticky radio between them. After miles of driving in silence, Q pulled into the empty Denny’s parking lot in their usual spot. Q jumped out of the creaky SUV before Ceta could unfasten her seatbelt. She took a minute to ensure that her lipgloss was still intact. Verifying that it was, she tip-toed out of the car, dusting her back pockets. Once seated inside, they each looked over the menu. Ceta pretended she wouldn’t choose the egg white omelet with a side of turkey sausage and black tea, just enough to fuel her late-night studies. “Me and Zeek did next to nothin’ today,” Q started. “We’re supposed to be finishing up pastries but, we spent the whole time shooting pixie sticks,” he said laughing. Q recounted his day with a wide-eyed enthusiasm that embarrassed Ceta. She giggled politely. His smile faded as he pushed his head down back into the menu. “I always think I know what I want when I come in here, but ---” “You’ll probably end up getting some variation of the same thing. But no rush,” Ceta interrupted, keeping her eyes downward, never fully acknowledging Q’s story. “Have you started applying to jobs yet?” she asked “There’s a restaurant opening in District Center. That’s the place where those apartments I sent you are located. I hear it’s supposed to be a new location for some Michelin star restaurant out of New York. It’s best to get start before graduation, right? Especially in a new city.” “I got some time, it’s not like we’re moving tomorrow,” he replied smirking. “I can’t run to the first thing available, you know? Gotta weigh my options.” She sighed quietly and nodded in agreement, shifting her gaze towards the waitress approaching with their orders, Q’s plate housed a large stack of uniform hotcakes accompanied by a bowl of grits with a slowly growing pool of butter. “That’s a ton of butter.” Ceta said “I’m young,” Q retorted. Ceta’s mouth tightened. “Anyway, it turns out that the school of engineering’s networking event is this Friday. Do you think you can make it? I know you had work last year, but this time should be fine since you don’t have anywhere you need to be.” She said with a smile. “What’s the point of this thing again?” Q asked. “It gives us a chance to meet potential employers.” “Hmm,” he scoffed. “What?” “Seems kinda stupid. Hiring somebody because you had drinks once? Okay.” Q said laughing, digging his knife through several layers of pancakes at once. “There’s obviously more to it.” Ceta responded. “I bet.” Q said still laughing softly before spreading more butter onto his already lacquered short stack. “If you don’t want to go ---” “No, no, no. I’m definitely going. Imma see what it’s hittin’ fuh,” Q said teasing, his dimples showed. “But forreal, I don’t know how you ended up in that engineering program anyway. You’re not that good at math.” He said grinning. “I’m jus’ playin’ with you. But really, though, engineering never seemed like your thing.” “How not?” Ceta asked stabbing her egg whites with her water spotted fork. “How not? he echoed “I used to help you with your calculus homework before --” “Before you dropped out? In the middle of freshman year? Ceta asked. You can’t seriously be judging my performance based on a few intro classes. You know that, right?” “Seems like a sign of things to come.” Q said. “And seems you would be wrong, since I’m nearly finished with my program.” “Yeah, you right. Do what makes you happy.” “I am. I’ll make certain to ask for your advice when I need it.” “I’m sure you will.” “And what does that mean?” “Exactly what I said, I bet you will ask for advice when you need it, but you never think you do.” “What advice can you really give me, Q?” Ceta asked lowering her fork, crossing her arms, and looking up at Q . “I can tell you that trying to get a job in something you’re already struggling with is a fucked up plan.” “Gotta be better than cos-playing as a glorified cafeteria worker,” she said reaching for her mug now halfway full of lukewarm tea. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough with them grades, huh?” Q asked. He paused looking downward at the tacky brown table. He searched the lining of his pockets for his phone awkwardly as Ceta returned the silence. Q fiddled with his phone for some time, toggling back and forth between stagnant text message conversations. Ceta scanned the restaurant wondering if anyone had heard their exchange, giving the neighboring table a closed mouth smile once their eyes met. “It’s supposed to be cooler tomorrow.” Ceta said breaking the stalemate. You should come get your jacket, you left it on my chair.” “Will do. I don’t know what I was thinking moving this far north.” Q said. They laughed quietly. “How’s Kerry liking Tampa by the way? Ceta asked. “It doesn’t feel like that long ago y’all were driving that U-Haul together.” Q smiled at the memory. “Last I heard he was doing well. It’s been a while though. You know Kerry likes to run his mouth on the phone, I’d rather text, I got shit to do.” Q smiled with his whole face this time. “You ever think about staying here? He asked. “You have connects out this way. What you startin’ over for?” “I’ve been here long enough, and by the time I graduate next year, I’m sure I’ll be even more ready to go.” Ceta said crossing her fork and knife over the remainder of her meal. "It’s not starting over when you didn’t have roots to begin with.” “True.” Q conceded. The waitress slipped a receipt on their table discretely while pretending to keep busy at the next table over before swiping the folded up receipt with Q’s card sandwiched in. She returned moments later with furrowed brows. “I know I have money on there, hold on,” Q said to their waitress, slightly lifting his thighs off of his seat to reach his back pockets. “Here.” Ceta responded handing over her own card reflexively. “I got you.” Q said in a lowered voice, putting his wallet back into his pocket. Ceta nodded in acknowledgement, hurriedly gathering her belongings from the back of her chair. On the drive home, Q rested his head on his left hand, steering with the right while Ceta explained the remaining materials she had yet to grasp for her upcoming exam. Q took her various tonal shifts as his que to nod and hum in agreement. Some moments later, Q pulled up in front of Ceta’s duplex apartment and unlocked the doors, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. Ceta turned to Q and pecked his cheek, “G’night, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said exiting the car. “Night.” He responded. He watched as she walked up the steps to the storm door and turned her key. “I’ll call you.” He called out to her from the car, rolling up the window before lighting another cigarette and pulling off. Ceta stood still briefly before letting herself in, closing the door softly behind her. © All rights reserved
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This site is for me, but I'm happy that you're here. I’m Gabrielle, a short story and creative writer. Browse my quick short stories and let me know what you think. Don’t forget to subscribe! Archives
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