In the end, it was for nothing.
Even so, I can't bring myself to hate him. If anything, I feel terrible for screwing up what we had. He and I, neither of us, are normal. Our relationship can't possibly be either. We aren't going to have holidays with families, and there's going to be no meeting of the parents. Our lives are fucked up. Why shouldn't our relationship be fucked up too?
Because it hadn’t been. It had been wonderful, and I screwed it up, just like I screw up everything.
I head outside and look for the car. There it is. I head on over, and I’m looking down to check out the picture when I glance up and see the driver.
It’s not a stranger named Joe.
It’s my fucking father.
Our gazes meet, and I flip him the bird and run back into the diner, and I don't stop running. I nearly bump into the waitress Rob asked out, and she grabs my arms to steady me.
“Are you all right?” she asks, and I can almost think that she’s actually concerned.
“I need to leave out the back,” I say in a rushed but hushed whisper.
She doesn’t ask any questions, just pushes me ahead of her, her hand on my lower back to guide me.
“Should I call the police?” she asks.
Oh, hell, her flirting just about killed me, but her helping me now me doubly dead now.
“No.”
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“That the door?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Thanks.”
I hurry outside, and I keep on running. It's dark out, not near ten, though, and I don't stop running until my lungs force me to. I head inside a small pizza joint, standing by the windows, looking out so I can see the street signs.
Robyn. I try calling her first, but she doesn’t answer, so I call Lauren and then a few of my other friends, but not one of them picks up the phone. I know our generation prefers texts to talking, but seriously, I need help and now.
I need to get back to campus.
Not that I can be certain my father won’t come back there either.
Shit, shit, shit!
I’m freaking out so much that I call the first name on my list.
And he picks up.
“Katie, I wasn’t expecting you to call—”
“Ace, can you do me a favor?”
“You ghost me for—”
“I know. I’m sorry. You can yell at me later, but please, can you come out here and get me?”
“Sure.”
I tell him where I am, and he’s there in fifteen minutes. Every time a car comes up or down the street, I would turn away, which means Ace has to come in and get me.