Overdue - 12

And then, one blustery morning, Cory texted me. We need to talk. Can you meet me after work?

The unexpected contact shocked me. A few days had passed since the restroom incident, but eight days still remained in the month. The fact that he couldn’t wait one more week thrust me into a spiral. My head separated from my body.

It was happening. I knew it was going to happen, and I was preparing for it to happen, but I was not ready for it to actually happen.

Thankfully, Sue believed in mental health days. “I’m only surprised this is the first one you’ve taken,” she said, though not unkindly. It was more than mental, though. I spent the day physically immobilized in bed.

This time, however, I managed to arrive early to the diner.

This time, however, Cory was already there.

My heart leapt—and then plummeted back down. He was sitting at the Diner -themed table. The universe was gifting us the providence of closure. A strange calm washed over me.

He held up his hands. “I swear I didn’t request it.”

I smiled even though my soul was splitting. “I know.”

He stood and hugged me, and we held on to each other for a long time. It didn’t matter that we both wanted and needed what was coming. The Pulp Fiction table would have been more appropriate because I felt as if I were about to be annihilated.

We sat down, quiet and already close to tears.

“Thanks for meeting me on short notice,” he said.

“Did you work today?” I asked, glancing around for our server. It didn’t feel right to break up before ordering our food. I didn’t want to be interrupted.

“Uh—no.” He said the word no with a certain hesitation and weight. There was more to the story, but I wasn’t sure what. “Did you?” he asked. And then he shook his head. “Of course you did.”

“I didn’t, actually. I just … couldn’t.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I get that.”

A woman who looked to be in her early twenties appeared with our waters. She had dyed-black hair and black short shorts, and her pale legs were covered in colorful tattoos. The name on her shirt read JO . “Can I get you all something else to drink?” she asked.

“A Coke, thanks.” Cory seemed anxious for us to be left alone again. “And I’ll have the chicken tenders and fries, and she’ll have the grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Actually”—after the day in bed, my body craved breakfast—“I’d like two eggs, sunny-side up, whole-grain toast with strawberry jam, and hash browns.”

Jo scratched her pad. “You got it.”

Cory’s eyebrows rose a little behind his glasses.

“Shit,” I said, remembering who I was with. “No eggs.”

“It’s okay,” Cory said, even though eggs grossed him out more than anything. I never ordered them when he was around.

Jo waited for me to make the decision myself.

“You sure?” I asked Cory, and he said of course. “All right. The eggs, too.”

When we were alone again, he teased me, “Something new, huh?” He was only talking about my order, but as he heard the words out loud, his smile faded. Our silence was awful. Forks and plates scraped and clinked around us, diners chattered and guffawed, and the jukebox played the movie version of “La Bamba.” Cory’s expression squinched in agony. “I don’t even know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it—”

“You want to break up,” I said, as he said, “I met someone.”

There was a moment of quaking stillness. And then the dam broke.

“Oh,” I said. “ Oh .”

His eyes brimmed with tears. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so sorry.”

A flood of emotions was rushing through me. Drowning me. “Who? How?” My hands waved as if for a life preserver. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t think I want that yet.” What I meant was, I don’t think I want that information yet . But I didn’t want this either. I didn’t want Cory to already have somebody else.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again.

Any eloquence I had was gone. “This sucks.”

“It does.”

“I was going to break up with you next week, and it still sucks.”

“You were?” He was bent over with misery and guilt, but at this he perked up.

“We aren’t right for each other.”

“No.”

“Do you love her?”

He blew his nose on a napkin. “I don’t know. We aren’t actually dating. It’s complicated. I asked her out, and she laughed at me and said I needed to get my shit together. But … I have this feeling. I’m wild about her. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.” He watched my face fall. “Oh, Ig—”

“No.” I stopped him. “I get it. I haven’t … felt that way either.”

Jo reappeared with our plates. “One chicken tenders, one breakfast.” She clocked the condiments area on our table. “Shoot. No ketchup.” As she ducked into the booth behind Cory to grab a bottle, my eyes caught on her legs. Most of her tattoos were flowers, but the hippo-like body of Moomintroll jumped out at me from among the blooms. And then I spotted Wilbur the pig, Pippi Longstocking, and Winnie-the-Pooh. I’d been holding my feelings in, but at the sight of these childhood friends, my lip wobbled. Triumphantly, Jo set a bottle of Heinz between us, but then she saw our expressions. I pried my gaze up from her legs, because the last thing I wanted was to make her any more uncomfortable. She scooted away with an apologetic mumble.

When Cory realized I was crying, he cried again, too. He moved to my side of the booth. We clung to each other in the pink light through three songs on the jukebox.

“Who is that?” he finally whispered, pointing to the collaged picture beside my plate of a handsome young man with swooping hair pouring sugar into his mouth.

“Mickey Rourke,” I said.

“What?”

I wiped my cheeks.

“That is not Mickey Rourke,” he said.

“Haven’t you seen Diner ?”

“Yeah, but not the one where Mickey Rourke is hot.”

We laughed, and he squeezed me again before moving back to his side. “So,” I said, poking a yolk and letting it run. He squirmed a little, which gave me a stab of pleasure. “She thinks you need to get your shit together.”

He cleared his throat. “Oh my God. I’m a mess.”

“Tell me more so I’ll feel better.”

“Well, I got fired.”

“What?” I almost choked on the egg. Cory had always been responsible and reliable. A valuable employee.

“I don’t want to get into it,” he said, which made me wonder again about the hotel’s policy regarding sleeping with the guests.

“What are you gonna do?”

“A guy I know who runs a B&B is going on vacation and needs an inn-sitter.”

I didn’t know inn-sitters were a thing, but it made sense. Otherwise their owners would never get out of town. We discussed the job until the conversation trailed off.

Diner was about being an adult but not being grown-up yet. It was about old friends finally being forced into adulthood, even though they’re mostly doing a bad job of it. They’re terrified of who they might become, who they might marry, and where their lives might be headed. It had taken less than three months for Cory and me to destroy something that we had believed was indestructible. We had spent our entire adult lives together. Now he was moving on, and I was alone.

“So … there’s nobody?” Cory asked.

Another server, arms laden with platters of food, passed our table. A pen was tucked behind his ear.

“No.” I set down my fork, unable to stomach the rest of my meal. “There’s nobody.”