How To Love | Daniel Seavey AU

8 | happiness

DANIEL DROVE US TO the city for breakfast, talking about this one place he and Anna had gone to that served the best waffles—the place he wanted to take me to last week before I denied our friendship. It was a small corner type restaurant; tables that varied from holding two chairs to eight were spread across the place with chairs lining up the counter. Daniel and I occupied the table for two in the back of the place.

A waiter approached our table, and Daniel ended up ordering for the both of us. "Yeah, she's new to the town, and I told her this place had the best waffles, so we'll take two of those, with both coffee, right?" He looked at me to confirm and I nodded.

"Anything else?"

"Just that for now." The waiter nodded, repeated our order and we confirmed it. "So how was your morning?"

I lift my brows, finding the question to be rhetorical, and waited for him to realize what he asked. He didn't. "I'm spending it with a dork."

"A hell of a dork, I bet," he smirked. "Are you okay now?" I nodded, and looked around the place, not wanting to talk about it. I'm still embarrassed that he found me in such a state yesterday; he caught a glimpse of something I rarely do in public.

"How'd you find this place?" I decided to ask.

"Anna and I were walking around when she saw the window, and found it to be "a good Instagram post"," he air quoted, "I was already trying to look for some place to eat and so we came here." I nodded. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You already did."

"Can I ask you another?"

"That's a question as well," I said smugly.

"I'm asking another," he then says and I nodded. "Happiest memory that you can recall."

"That's not a q-"

"Logan," he pressed, looking annoyed, "What is the happiest memory that you can remember?" I thought hard—like really hard. Most of my happy memories were blocked from all the bad ones that happened not too long ago.

"Are you trying to get me to smile? Thinking that it would happen if I tell you?" I assumed and he shrugged, biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling. "Hopefully it doesn't," I mumbled, "I remember this time when my mom was out of town for the weekend and my dad took me to the carnival, I got a small elephant from his win at knocking bottles down—the elephant was stolen—I bought a bracelet there, and a week after, that same bracelet was cut off by my math teacher because she didn't like accessories."

"You put in bad things with the happiest memory, it doesn't sound like it's the best thing you remember," he told me, "why don't you try explaining without the bad things?"

"Ugh alright," I groaned, "My dad and I went to the carnival when I was ten, I think, he got me an elephant and I got myself a bracelet, we bought funnel cake and ice cream, before watching the fireworks from the Ferris wheel later that night-it's the best memory because..." your dad still cared. "... I was sick that day, and my dad made it his mission to make me feel better—even if I still got sick the next day."

"I mean you ate ice cream, what'd you expect?" He jokingly commented and I nodded in agreement. "So, where is your dad now?"

"Probably Ontario, I don't know—he and my mom divorced when I was fourteen," I briefly explained. That was the most he'll know about my family until I say otherwise. "But hey, I wasn't smiling while recalling the memory."

"Then it isn't your happiest," he remarked.

⚜

Monday came quicker and even still, Daniel's words kept repeating in my head. What does he know about happy memories? He didn't even share his with me, and he still said that. It's not my fault that I have almost lost the ability to smile at recalling memories—they aren't that great anyways. I can't recall a memory that makes my heart flutter, or gives me a burst of happiness because they are memories, which happened and are stuck in our minds for until we forget, and that's all they are ever going to be.