We're Not Related Anymore...

A Tentative Truce

Maddie: Present Day

"I'm not sure I believe you," I tell Jacob over a strawberry milkshake. After rushing out of the restaurant, I scoured the street for a quiet place to have our conversation. A near-empty, old diner seemed like the best bet. These places aren't as trendy or 'Instagrammable' as they once were and it's blissfully quiet. 

"Right, so I should believe you actually texted me, had me respond, and then ghosted you rather than you believe that I never received any of your messages?" Jacob asks, leaning back in the red-vinyl booth and giving me his cockiest look. "Which one sounds more like a stretch to you?"

"Which one of us is more likely to lie?" I bite back, suddenly angry at him. The absolute nerve? I stab my straw angrily and then take a long, loud sip. 

"Hey," he says leaning forward on the table, getting all up in my space. "Why would I want to sabotage things with you? I've been trying to get in contact with you for months." He has? I find myself blushing but don't give in. I cross my arms over my chest. 

"Yeah, right. And the three years that passed by without a single text or call proves how much you tried." 

"This coming from the girl who deleted all her social media, changed her number, and moved across the fucking country without telling me," Jacob says, his angry whisper drawing the attention of the few people in here. "Don't start your fucking shit with me."

"My shit? My shit? Let's go back to your shit, then. You always accuse me of giving mixed signals but you're the one who ended our relationship when I needed you the most, might I add. And then, you have the audacity to tell me that you missed me? And that you tried to call me? Fuck. Off." With my rant over, I take another sip of the smooth deliciousness, not breaking my staring contest with Jacob once. 

His nostrils flare, and if possible, he leans closer. "You said you believed me in the store room," he accuses, not bothering to address my other claims against him. 

"The information had just been received. My brain hadn't detected the smell of bullshit yet."

"Why would I come all the way here then? Why would I ghost you and then waste money coming to see you in person?" He asks. His hair is a little bit dishevelled and it hangs over his eyes, partially shielding them from me. I look away, staring at the legs of a nearby table. 

"Then what happened?" I ask again, calmer this time. 

"I. Don't. Know." 

"Fine," I say. 

"Fine," he agrees, taking a sip from his own drink. He seems to think about our words because he then asks, "Are we actually putting this to bed or are you going to change your mind again and accuse me of ghosting you?"

"Let it go," I warn him through clenched teeth. I push the menu towards him with more aggression than necessary. "Order something." 

I'm not sure what to think on the subject. I need to sleep on the information. All I know is that something's not adding up. Either he's lying... or someone deleted that message I sent him. And I'm not sure I'm ready to think about that just yet. It's exhausting.

"Still can't decide on what food you like," he murmurs but not with the malice I interpret his words with. 

"So? Is it so bad that I know myself well enough that I know I get order envy? I'll order my own food but I will make you swap with me," I threaten, my words rising again. 

"Don't bite at me. I think it's cute," he says, now just looking entertained by how riled I am. 

"Don't you dare call me cute," I tell him, reaching up and removing my cap. I feel like a douche sitting in an enclosed space with a hat on.