Déjà Vu

Deja Vu

All Francis wanted was to get some ice cream before walking down the rest of the boardwalk with her stepmom; it had already been enough of a challenge to get out of her warm, comfortable childhood home. She had been waiting in line with her stomach growling for ten minutes after having skipped breakfast.

Closing her eyes, for just a split second, Francis could smell familiar pine and peppermint nearby. A sea of green fleece flashed in her memory. Neck kisses and long walks echoed in the background. She was impressed by her acute sensory recollection. Too impressed. Until she opened her eyes.

"Hey Fran, fancy seeing you here!" Gus spoke with crinkles in his eyes. One hand was tightly gripped to the girl on his right, the other on a melting pink cone.

The sight made Francis want to hurl. They were taking turns licking the two big scoops of strawberry ice cream before the seagulls could frenzy. Did she ever look that ridiculous with him?

"Hi, August... and Gwen... I could say the same about you two," she was smiling so much it hurt.

After a few seconds of silence, the other girl exclaimed, "Sooo what are you doing over here, Francine? I thought Gus said you lived in New York." Her hand brushed on Francis's shoulder. She almost recoiled. Did she just call her Francine? Ouch. They had known each other since middle school.

"It's um Francis, by the way. And uh I do live in New York, I'm just visiting my dad this weekend... For the holidays, you know."

Francis was stopping by for three days to visit her parents in Santa Monica. She ignored the part where her boss had given her two weeks. And even then, with her self-imposed limited availability, she couldn't avoid seeing her (former) favorite green jacket on someone other than her.

As if on cue, a gust of wind passed through them. Francis clutched onto her knit sweater. She had taken up crochet and jogging after the break-up.

"Right. Tell him we say hi. I think I saw Christine talking on the phone by the bicycle kiosk," He motioned toward her stepmom wildly gesturing something to the person over the phone.

"That's her. She thought the salty air would do us some good. But I don't see how taking work calls is supposed to help with that." Nervous laughter ensued. Gwen had switched her attention to Instagram.

Francis shouldn't have said that. Gus had no right to witty family remarks anymore. He gave it up when he decided not to do long distance. After being together for three years.

"How's New York? Heard it's pretty cold over there by now, right?" Gus kept up the conversation. She wished he hadn't. Her peripheral vision had caught a heart-shaped locket around Gwenyth's neck. Francis had left hers at home. Not that she ever wore it out anyway. But did he have to buy her the same one?

"It is." She replied.

That was it. She was ready to leave, but then, "I don't think you hung out much with Gwen while we were in school. We should meet up sometime so you can get to know each other better."

As if, Francis thought. There was obviously a reason they never hung out.

"Sounds peachy," she cringed.

"It's crazy how the world works. I mean, she's in the same program as you but she's doing it over here at UCLA. Like you were going to do."

Well, that was clearly a dig. True, they had planned to study together at UCLA. She was excited about studying communications while he did pre-med. But when NYU offered to cover her entire tuition after she won a Pulitzer letter scholarship, Francis was immediately drawn to the Big Apple. Her mother had grown up there. And that's where her parents met. Francis felt connected to it. Gus never understood that, though. He thought his connection should have been bigger.

Now in front of her, Francis noticed that other than Gwen's nose ring (and her lack thereof), the two girls could have been related. The comparison stung like rubbing hand sanitizer on a mysterious paper cut.

"Oh, Franny's into journalism, too?" Gwen questioned. Her short-term memory had reintroduced itself into the conversation.

Everyone had stopped calling her Franny by the sixth grade. She preferred to keep it that way.

"Francis, actually. And yeah, I'm interning with Condé Nast right now. I was lucky enough to squeeze in a break this weekend." Lucky was an overstatement. But she didn't stop grinning. Try beating an internship at a mass media company like that, Gwen.

"Cool. I'm freelancing a bit. Clutched a spread with The Hollywood Reporter. Nothing too big yet."

Francis did everything in her power not to let her jaw drop. A spread with THR isn't big? She was still fetching coffees for her boss. They hadn't even let her edit a single article.

Her face felt hot and she had lost her appetite for strawberry ice cream. "That's great. Uh, you know what? I think Chrissy's getting a little tired." She pointed over at the short animated woman still shouting at an invisible person.

"Ok, yeah." Gus seemed to go along with it.

Francis rambled on, "You know how it is with the cold air." Her father had probably said that once.

Simultaneously, "Nice seeing you!", escaped from the couple as she began to walk away from the line.

"Gotta go!" Francis's legs took her away from the wretched sight quicker than when she escaped the night guard for staying in the library after hours. And she didn't hate those early-morning runs so much anymore.

Her fondness over green sweaters was long gone. The wounds were still fresh for her, but it seemed August had healed just fine. And it didn't bother him one bit that Gwen could have been her long-lost sister. Perhaps Gwen was a long-lost sister. There was a lot she didn't know about her mother — a newfound relative wouldn't be surprising. Francis wondered if August had just experienced a major bout of déjà vu. Or had it only been her?