Ridiculous: Mattory

18: That's Just Me, Thinking Of You

A/N: Today's song is Thinking of You by Christian Kane. Any Leverage fans about? (If you're not, you should be, it's an amazing show and not nearly as well known as it should be.) To me this song is totally Matt's point of view at this time, though he's not actually in this chapter...

Mallory

For all I'm enjoying myself traveling, I have to admit the places I've been eating certainly haven't been doing me any favors.

I pick at a basket of fries that are too greasy to truly be tasty and attempt to unstick my bare legs from the fake red leather booth I'm sitting at. The diner is silent of conversation, though considering I'm currently the only customer I can't say it's too surprising. A fly repeatedly bangs against the window next to me and a waitress sits at the counter, wrapping silverware together in napkins with practiced motions.

The clinking of silverware finally stops. "You're not from around here, are you?" the waitress asks. I jump.

"No, can't say that I am," I reply, shifting in my seat to look at her. Her brown hair is starting to go gray at the edges and crow's feet line her eyes—I have to put her in her late forties or early fifties.

"What brings you to our little corner of Wyoming, then?" She hops off the bar stool and makes her way over to me, holding out her hand. "My name's Deborah," she offers.

"Mallory," I return. "I'm just sort of passing through. Been doing some traveling." I have to admit that it's been a little lonely, traveling on my own, but I'm still surprised when I hear myself say, "Have a seat if you want."

"Don't mind if I do," Deborah says, blowing a bubble with her gum and then popping it with a loud smack. One of the lazily circling ceiling fans begins to rattle and I glance up at it, but she waves her hand. "Oh, they do that all the time. It'll stop in a minute." True to her word, it does.

"What about you?" I ask. "You from... around here?"

"Born and raised," she answers. "So what made you come out this way? Lots of people say they want to just get in the car and drive, but no one ever actually seems to."

"I..." I clear my throat. "Had a pretty bad break up a few months ago. And I still work with him, so I... needed some time to myself. Seemed like as good an idea as any."

"Did it work?"

"Did what work?"

Deborah shakes her head like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Are ya over him?"

I wince and sip at my soda, which has become diluted and far less pleasant in the overbearing heat.

"I'll take that as a no."

I sigh. "I need to be... but I'm not." With a grimace, I keep speaking. "It's just... he was in love with me for years, and I convinced myself he wasn't, because I was terrified of what might happen if we ever did something about it. And I finally gave up and we got together, and it was glorious and almost perfect... and I went and broke his heart and I don't think he'll ever really forgive me for it."

"Why'd you do it then if it was so perfect with him?"

"Because I was an idiot," I say hoarsely. "We'd been going through a rough time and I just... lost it and ending up lashing out at the nearest person. Don't think I'll ever stop regretting it."

Deborah tsks her tongue. "And you think he'll never forgive you?"

"I'm fairly certain he won't," I say sadly.