Bittersweet | ON HOLD

| chapter three |

Adam stared at his reflection in the glass windows of the corner diner, trying to tell himself that he was here.

He didn't jump off the bridge. Instead, he met a boy whose small note was shoved into his pocket, that crinkled against the pocket of his jeans every time he took a step. It tugged at him. Call the number.

The small town was bustling behind him, the busy evening hour picking up its pace. The autumn air was crisp, the sky behind him set into shades of pink and orange, colors that would have made Adam feel something. But he didn't anymore.

Someone bumped into him, and Adam snapped out his thoughts. "Watch it," he hissed at an old man, who gave him a dirty look before walking away. He glared back, until the man broke his gaze and Adam pushed open the doors of the diners, immediately welcomed with the sizzle and noise of pans and pots, and the busy chatter. Red booths, checkered tiles and a vintage aesthetic, Checker's was a typical lowkey diner, a small but successful one.

Adam settled in the back of the diner, not bothering to look the through the menu that sat on the table. He remembered when his mother and him would often choose this spot to eat for the weekend off.

"Good evening, sir and welcome to Checkers. What can I do for you?"

Adam looked up at the petite girl with big brown eyes, her black choppy hair falling right above her shoulder. For a minute, he couldn't think, because she looked uncannily like her mother, and he had a urge to grab the girl and hug the life out of her.

His eyes dropped to her name tag pinned on her chest, Shraddha, and he felt pain bite at his heart. Get it together, Adam.

Shraddha scowled. "Finished checking me out?"

Adam blinked. "Checking you out. Like hell, I was checking you out," he spat. He didn't need this shit, not right now. Not when his world was spiraling when it should have ended.

Shraddha put her hands on the table and narrowed her eyes. "You stared at me for a whole two minutes."

Adam had a habit of oversharing when he was put in a tight situation. It was sort of like a defense mechanism. When he had been brought up like everything he did wrong, now he felt as if he needed to explain his every action, every word. "You reminded me of my mom. She has the same eyes, the same hair," he trailed off, waving his hand towards her in a vague gesture.

Shraddha's eyes softened and she straightened up, suddenly interested at the notepad in her hand. "I'm sorry about that then," she gushed out. "I'm Shraddha."

Adam nodded. "I'm Adam"

"What can I get for you?"

"Just a mac and cheese, please." Shraddha nodded, and rushed into the kitchen in the back. Adam leaned back into the booth. He hadn't been here in a whole year, yet the place looked the same. It just felt different.

His thoughts drifted over to Noria and his phone number resting in his pockets. Before he could stop himself, he pulled out the crumpled piece of paper and unwrinkled it on the table in front of him. He wondered how far Noria lived from the diner.

He dialed the number. Adam didn't know why. Noria gave it to him to dial it, right?

He slowly brought the phone up to his ear, the ring felt as if it was stretching for much longer than it should have been. Finally, there was click.

"Hello?"

Silence on the other end.

"Noria?"

Adam almost dropped his phone. A disgusting moan, followed by, "That's my name, baby!" blared into his ears.