He Had To Go

Chapter Three: We're Not Friends

With my head down, focusing on this retro menu, I find myself being rather uncomfortable in this itchy booth as I wait for Eliot to come back from the restroom. After, getting my car towed within fifteen minutes, which was reasonably fast, he took me to some mom-and-pop diner, not too far from campus. Within the first couple of minutes of being, I could tell I was the youngest person within these four walls.

"Decide what you want to order?" Eliot asks as he comes back from the restroom wiping his wet hands on his shirt.

"You know there are paper towels for that?" I ask, as I circularly point at his now temporarily stained shirt.

"They were out, and the hand dryer was busted." He explains. "But I am sure this will be all dried up before we leave." I glance down, rolling my eyes at his world and reality, his wet hands may be his hardest problem. "What's the matter?" He asks, as takes the seat across from me. "You too afraid to be seen with the guy from the dirty shirt?" He jokes, keeping the mood as positive as can be despite the circumstances.

"You wouldn't get it." I answer as the waitress walks over to our table. She is a middle-aged woman with her hair pinned up, and shallow dark bangs. She has her small notepad out and stands with a sweet persona in her yellow dress.

"My golly goodness!" She nearly shouts with her thick southern accent, as she smiles at Eliot. "I almost didn't recognize you... it's been years. How's your family?"

"They're good." Eliot replies with his infamous huge grin on his face. I glance down at my phone, as I can't but feel like the odd one out, not really doing anything but scrolling on my notes. "My dad and I were just talking about this place... and all the fun times. I wanted to come back, I thought maybe bring my friend, Maya." He says. The waitress looks at me, I slightly wave with a resting face. I am not his friend.

"Nice to meet you, Maya." She replies, before turning back to Eliot. "Did you two have an idea, of what you wanted to order?" She asks.

"Ladies, first." Eliot insists, turning the attention to me. Why is keep doing that?

"No, I didn't decide yet." I admit, in a humble quiet voice.

"Well, I can come back if you're not ready." She offers, pointing back towards the kitchen area.

"No... No. We are pushed for time." Eliot reveals to her. "But we will take two clubhouse sandwich meals, please." Eliot says, taking his and my menu to her.

"Alright, that will be right up." She says walking away towards the kitchen. I watch her walk back there until she disappears through the swinging door. When I turn back around, I return to glancing down at my phone, still doing absolutely nothing, but scrolling through my calendar. Yet, I feel his friendly stare upon me, and in return, I glance up to see him drinking from the straw of his ice water.

"My bad." Eliot complains. "You aren't vegan or anything?" He asks.

"No." I answer, finding it sweet that he was kind enough to admit his mistake. From what I have seen and heard, it is rare for guys to do that.

"Oh, good." He replies. Once again, the conversation grows cold, and I feel it's up to me to start it up again.

"So, do you know her?" I ask, referring to our waitress, that leaves the kitchen with the order of another table.

"Oh, yeah." He answers. "Mary, been here since my little league days... we use to come here after every game. It was kind of tradition."

"That's nice." I answer, as once again the potential of our conversation dials down. It's not that I am antisocial, I just have nothing else or more to say to him. Since there was nothing else to scroll through on my phone, instead I glance down at my plain uneven nails, full of their natural white scratches.

"Your turn?" Eliot offers.

"Excuse me?" I ask, unsure of what exactly he's talking about. "Are we playing some kind of game?"

"No. I just thought that we were sharing stuff about our childhood... That what's friends do?" He answers.

"We're friends?" I sarcastically ask. I see him glance down, slightly embarrassed by me not reciprocating his feelings. Dang! Maybe I was little to be mean... But I was realistic.

"Well, can I ask you something?" He asks. We stare at each for a moment, I just don't understand his consistency. I moved on from the whole coffee shop accident, I wish he would too. If anything, he's coming off as more of an annoyance than a good person.

"Sure." I answer. "But nothing inappropriate." I dictate.

"It's not." He answers. "I was only wondering why do you take life so seriously?" He asks. I am taken back for a moment, as that is the last thing I expected from him.

"That's not fair. You don't get to make that assumption about me." I groan. "We only had three conversations, this being our first real one."

"I agree. But without saying anything, I feel as if I know you. I never see you at any of the college's games, or parties."

"Well, were you looking for me in the first place?" I inquire, as I find his points to be irrelevant.

"No." He answers, seeming to lose a little of his calm demeanor, before gaining it back. "But... You don't even have any social media."

"You looked me up?" I ask judgmentally, finding that to be odd.

"Yeah, I was going to apologize over the weekend. But when I couldn't find you online, I found you on your campus."

"So your not in my political science class?" I ask with a sigh of relief.

"No, I took that class my freshman year. But the point is you are a very hard person to find, and even more to connect to."

"This sound more like an ambush, than an apology lunch." I rant, quite ready to walk out of here already. If only I didn't ride with him.

"No, it's not an ambush." He stresses, becoming all flustered. In response, all I can do is stare and blink every few seconds. It's not so much the words he said, but the way he expressed himself. He has always seemed calm and in control, always having this control of his own life. All of a sudden his phone buzzes indicating a text. He loses eye contact with me to pick it up. "It's your car." He says. "It's finished." He reveals. A brief smile comes over my face, as I will be back on my own four wheels, but then I remember everything in this life has a price.

"What's the damage?" I ask referring to the price, as I open the banking app on my phone.

"Don't worry... It's already paid for." He reassures me. But all I can do is shake my head in disagreement.

"No, Eliot. You don't need to do this, I can pay for it." I insist. I am not being difficult, I just know... At least hear how guys work. He will one day want something back in return, and I rather leave it at this... Whatever this is.

"No, I want to." He says waving over to the waitress. "I guess we should get this to go, and get you back to campus." He smiles.

"Yeah... Thanks." I utter.