Wilde Fire

Chapter 18: Present

I twirl the pasta onto my fork repeatedly, letting the limp noodles fall back into the pile on my plate. I barely ate all day, but I just wasn't hungry. I couldn't even blame Owen. The entire situation since we saw each other by the river was strange and unfamiliar. Every interaction was unexpected, from the first kiss, to the way he blew me off after as if we never saw one another, up until the moment when he broke down in front of me in the school parking lot and almost kissed me again. I never predicted any of it to happen, and I'm sure he didn't either. We were simply two people, once friends now strangers, struggling to figure out who we were. He didn't have to say those words to me. His actions spoke louder. It was obvious; coming from someone who had been fighting the same demons myself for so long, dealing with the constant denial and acceptance at what I thought I wanted. It was clear to me, from his decision to walk away to the way he talked so heavily in his Jeep just a few hours earlier, that he was fighting a battle within himself too.

I just couldn't quite put a finger on what his battle was.

"Honey, you've barely touched your food," my mom says, her voice pulling me out of my daze.

I jump, and quickly realize that everyone at the table is looking at me.

"Oh, I'm not hungry.."

"She probably filled up on salad and breadsticks," grandma interjects, saving me from a conversation that I didn't want to have. "That's always my weakness." She rubs her full belly for emphasis.

I force a smile while simultaneously forcing myself to eat a few more bites of the greasy alfredo.

My mother smiles back, satisfied at last, and continues digging into her lasagna.

"So I hear you're going to be working down at Rusty's now," grandpa says, clearing his throat.

I swallow another bite. "Yeah," I say weakly, remembering how Owen had asked me the same thing. The thought of him made my stomach lurch. "My first shift is tomorrow morning."

"That's great!" Grandma exclaims, a little too excitedly. Like my parents, they were both just happy that I was finally doing something with my life other than sulking around the house and missing Ben. "Hopefully you'll get back in time for supper, I'm making my famous brown sugar pot roast."

"I should be there," I say confidently. I also assume that my catch-up with Owen is already over. It clearly didn't end well, though I still can't wrap my head around what exactly happened.

Admitting that he had a girlfriend was one thing, but why was he so keen on kissing me in the first place? It wasn't as if anything romantic had ever occurred between us before I left, nor had I expected it to. Apparently he thought differently.

We finished our dinner shortly after the conversation. I remained quiet unless spoken to, but that was nothing new for me. I think my presence and the fact that I wasn't crying was enough to make everyone happy, which was fine with me. My parents and grandparents engaged in casual small talk, discussing work and our new house and their upcoming Scandinavian cruise.

I picked at my pasta and tried not to think about Owen until the waiter brought our check and we left.

On the drive home, I lay my head against the window and stared outside, at the surroundings that were gradually becoming reality rather than memories. The city was the same as usual, bustling with traffic and the glowing lights of businesses and stop lights. The road leading back into Kala was, of course, all I cared to see.

I don't cry crossing the bridge this time; I am past that. Instead, I stare out blankly at the river, nearly black under the moon, the alcove hidden in darkness. We cross the bridge back onto the main road, the streets of town coming into view under the soft glow of the streetlights. Our house is close, just a few blocks down the main drag, but it is enough time for me to look out at the side roads and see a black Jeep turn the corner.