They Buried A Promise For Ten Years, They Broke It In Ten Minutes Chapter 09
“Ms. Thompson, there’s someone at the front deskÂ
for you. They said they’re family.”Â
The call from reception made me pause for aÂ
couple of seconds.Â
Family?Â
I went downstairs and saw Owen standing outsideÂ
the glass door.Â
He had a backpack slung over one shoulder. His hair was longer, his face thinner.Â
He saw me, and his mouth twitched, but he didn’tÂ
smile.Â
“I’m here for work. Passing through.”Â
“This isn’t on your way.”Â
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his bagÂ
and pulled out an envelope.Â
“Your lease ended. The landlord tried calling youÂ
and couldn’t get through, so I took care of it. The deposit’s been refunded to your card. This is the signed termination.”Â
I took the envelope but didn’t open it.Â
“Thanks.”Â
“Just thanks?”Â
I looked at him.Â
He stood under the gray November sky in England,Â
looking like he wanted something but didn’t knowÂ
how to ask.Â
“What do you want?”Â
“I want you to tell me when you started wanting toÂ
leave.”Â
I leaned against the doorframe, the cold windÂ
outside.Â
“Owen, if you actually wanted that answer, you should’ve asked three years ago.”Â
“What happened three years ago?”Â
“The first time Lily came to dinner, you gave herÂ
the seat next to me.”Â
He frowned.Â
“Over that?”Â
“Not over that. Over every time after that. EveryÂ
time you gave away my seat. Every time you actedÂ
like I didn’t care. Every time you said, ‘That’s just how she is.”Â
He was quiet.Â
“You used to be the first person to notice when I was upset,” I said. “Then you became the person who, even after I told you I was hurting, still thought I was overreacting.”Â
“I-” he started.Â
“You didn’t.” I finished the sentence for him. “YouÂ
didn’t mean to hurt me. I know that. But notÂ
meaning to doesn’t mean you didn’t.”Â
He stared at the ground for a long time.Â
Then he looked up and said something I didn’tÂ
expect.Â
“Ethan came looking for you twice, and youÂ
wouldn’t see him. What about me? Will you haveÂ
dinner with me?”Â
I looked at him. Ten years of friendship, and it feltÂ
very light in that moment.Â
“No.”Â
His face went blank.Â
“Why?”Â
“Because you didn’t come here because youÂ
thinkÂ
you did something wrong. You came because you don’t know how to get used to me being gone.”Â
He didn’t speak.Â
“Not being used to something and being sorry areÂ
two different things, Owen. You just miss the wayÂ
things were.”Â
He stood at the door for about ten seconds, thenÂ
slowly nodded.Â
He pulled the strap of his backpack up and turnedÂ
away.Â
He didn’t look back.Â
I watched his back disappear around the corner,Â
then went back to my desk.Â
My coworker leaned over. “Did your family leave?”Â
“Not family,” I said. “An old friend.”Â
“Will he come back?”Â
I shook my head.Â
No.Â
That evening, I opened the drawer and took out the red friendship bracelet.Â
Three star–shaped silver beads gleamed under the lamplight.Â
I looked at it for a moment, then dropped it in theÂ
trash.Â
No ceremony.Â
Just something I didn’t need anymore.
