Against All Odds?

17. Two Cans Of Coke And A Beer

                                     -♡♥︎♤♥︎♡⁃
𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗛𝗔

𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 returning from school, I haven't had time to sit down and unpack all my clothes. I mean, how could I, when all I do is keep moving, just to avoid facing the reality of Dad's passing and the emotions that overwhelm me every now and then?

Sitting on my bedroom floor, I grab my clothes in bulk and place them on the bed—preparing to hang them up. Shortly after, I return to my suitcase, sit back down, and continue unpacking the rest of my things. Suddenly, a sharp pain hits my chest, though thankfully, it disappears as quickly as it came.

Well, that hasn't happened in a while.

As I start organizing my drawers, I come across a headband that's dear to me. Recalling what I went through to get it, tears prick my eyes, and before I know it, tears are rolling down my cheeks.

Although my parents were tight on money and Mom wouldn't let me buy it, Dad went out of his way to get it just to make me happy. It wasn't so expensive, and it wasn't necessary—maybe that's why Mom held back. But Dad didn't see it that way. All he saw was a little girl who desperately wanted a glowing headband because the other girls at school had one, too.

Upon taking it out of the drawer, I slowly bring it to my head and slip it into my braids. The memory of the first time I wore it breaks my heart all over again.

Feeling overwhelmed, I put it back in the drawer and return to my suitcase to unpack the rest. But the more I unpack, the more I feel weighed down by sadness. It's as if every item I touch reminds me of him, not with happy memories, but with a sadness that wraps its arms around me, eagerly pulling me deeper into darkness.

Wiping away my tears, I stand up and grab my purse. I need a drink. I tell myself, once again suppressing my feelings as I've been doing all this time, seeking comfort in alcohol—or anything that will keep my mind from this darkness.

                               ~|♡♥︎♤♥︎♡|~
Picking up two cans of Coke—which, given my emotional state, wasn't my first choice—I place them on the counter and reach for my purse in my denim jacket pocket. Just as I'm about to take out the money, I hear a familiar voice behind me.

I turn to see him taking out cash from his wallet, handing it to the cashier, and telling her he's paying for everything, including his beer—leaving me with no chance to protest.

Soon after, we're walking side by side at a slow pace as we exit the convenience store. Recalling our conversation earlier at the police station, I feel the need to clarify what I said—hoping he'll understand exactly what I was apologizing for.

But I hold back, despite everything in me urging me to speak. "Thanks for this," I say, gesturing to the cans of Coke he paid for. A tight-lipped, subtle smile appears on my face, despite the sadness coursing through me. "Well, good night," I add simply, and just as I'm about to turn and walk away, he stops me—a hint of desperation evident in his voice.

"Would it be okay if..." he hesitates, clutching the can of beer, "if you stayed a little while?"

As our eyes remain locked, thoughts start swirling in my head—wondering why he's asking me to spend time with him when he could be asking his girlfriend or fuck buddy, whatever it is that's going on between them. But what if something serious has happened, and he just needs someone to talk to?

Sensing my hesitation, he says, "I guess it's getting late," his voice wavering as he scratches the back of his head. "You should be..."

"Sure, I can spare some time," I reply—cutting him off mid-sentence, taking him by surprise as his face shifts to an expression of incredulous surprise.