08
e i g h t

Three more days until I leave Redwood. I have to admit that counting down hurts, not only because I will leave, but the fact that I underestimate how cruelly fast time can pass.

I'm manning in the booth corner and stacking utensils when a hand sneaks out to take them from me. Turning around, I find Cassandra staring down at me. I straighten my back and stop my work.

"Hey," I say, smiling. I somehow don't see her as my boss anymore, and I know I'm going to miss her after I leave. "You're helping me?"

She shoots me a rather cryptical glare. "I have to talk to you."

I scowl because of the solemness in her tone. Other than worrisome, I'm alarmed. It takes me a good ten seconds before I say with the most nonchalant tone I can muster, "Okay, and what's that?"

"Come with me," Cassandra indicates.

I follow her and enter the storeroom. There are all sorts of stocks and boxes being stacked around me. The sweltering air is suffocating.

Cassandra turns on the fan in the corner and sits down in front of a tiny wooden table with inventory lists scattered on it. I take another small chair in the corner, sitting right opposite to her.

Neither of us mutter a word. I listen to the buzzing sound of the rotating fan as the yellow light on top of me starts flickering a bit.

"So," Cassandra starts. "I've been trying to figure out how to start this."

This is the moment I know that whatever she is going to tell me is utterly serious. I stare into her eyes as my stomach starts churning up, my heart racing.

"I believe that Ethan is part of the Richardsons, right?" she deadpans.

I nod. "Is... is there something wrong?"

Cassandra lets out a sharp breath. "Ethan's parents are 'Rodger and Amy', as you mentioned to me before."

She pauses, but my heartbeat keeps escalating.

"Is Rodger Richardson a lawyer?" she asks, her tone akin to an interrogator.

My jaw drops—I've never told Cassandra about that, and I slowly nod again.

Cassandra looks at me, silently. As if inspecting every inch of me, she sighs with her nose and looks away.

Moments later, she takes out her phone from her pocket. After a few seconds, she shows me a screen, the website is a piece of news article from Redwood's local news publisher. I glance at the bold and blunt title.

Two dead after a head-on car crash on Northdale Road in Redwood.

I hardly know what I'm feeling right now. The room becomes claustrophobic, and the fan is not doing anything to save me from the suffocating air.

Two dead. Car crash. Redwood. Ethan. Ethan's parents. Rodger and Amy.

"Cassandra, explain, please." My voice is barely audible.

"I know it's hard for you to find this out, Alyson," she says as she grabs my hands. "Listen, Ethan's parents' names are written in the article, so that explains why I found their names familiar. I don't know Rodger or Amy, but Redwood is a small town, so I asked Billy. He's the police officer and he confirms that the two victims are Ethan's parents, while Rodger Richardson is a lawyer—"

I stand up and wrench away from Cassandra's grasp. This is too much.

"Why didn't I know?" I blurt.

"This happened before you returned here, so it's normal that you don't know—"

"No!" I shake my head fervently. "Why didn't Ethan tell me? Am I that unimportant to him? How could I not know that his parents died?"

And then I realize the fact in front of me. Rodger Richardson and Amy Richardson died.

Ethan's parents died.

I can almost hear the blood pounding in my ears as I become more and more breathless in the suffocating room. I need air. I need to breathe.

I stride out of the storeroom and quickly through the kitchen, leaving the diner by the back door.

Tears start welling in my eyes. Everything seems to come together, but at the same time things feel more distorted. I don't know Ethan's parents that well, but knowing the fact that they passed away really, really hurts.

And Ethan, I can't possibly imagine how he has been feeling this whole time. My heart wrenches as Ethan's face when he cried in the park that night flashes in my brain.

Is this why Ethan has been acting weird? Is this what he meant by 'I'm not ready'?

The abrupt click of the door behind me makes me turn around, and Cassandra emerges out of the diner.

My head still throbbing, I choke out, "I have to find him."

"Go," she simply says. "And be brave."

༺═──────────────═༻

And so I do. I show up at the door of Ethan's house and knock.

The first knock sounds weak as if I'm knocking on a hollow log, so I tighten my grip and knock again. This time firm and assuring.

I don't hear any footsteps, and the door swings open almost immediately.

I stare at Ethan. He's casting a shadow on me like it did on the day we reunited in the diner. The moonlight shines on half of his face and as I stare at him, I feel a ball of heat rising in my chest.

After glaring at each other for almost a minute, I notice how he's wearing his outdoor t-shirt and holding a bunch of keys.

Noticing my stare, Ethan starts, "I was about to find you."

I choke out a laugh. It's as if this world works with a certain formula, because the timing can't be more right.

Ethan steps aside, and I enter his house. Nothing has changed, the light brown wooden floor, the art pieces on the white walls, the vase collection on the shelf right above the television, the gray cushions on the couch, the open kitchen...

Just as I'm about to ask whether he's alone in his house, I realize that he indeed, is alone.

Because his parents are gone.

So I lower myself on the low gray leatherette couch. He sits down as well.

We both are not sure what to do, should we move? Should we talk?

"Alyson." Ethan's voice startles me. "Do you want to know why I'm back?"

"I know everything," I admit, my voice surprisingly tranquil.

Ethan stops himself. He looks at me as if I were transparent that I'm pretty sure he's trying to see through me right now. Slowly, he shakes his head in disbelief.

"What?" he whispers.

And I tell him about Cassandra, about the news, about the car accident. Just as I finish telling him, he lowers his head and buries his face with his pair of hands.

I see his shoulder shudders and my eyebrows knit together as my heart pulls. "I'm sorry, Ethan, I'm so sorry for your parents."

"No, Aly." Ethan shakes his head and glances up at me with his pair of bloodshot eyes. He hastily draws the sleeve of his shirt across his face to wipe away the tears on his face.

Sighing, he starts again, "I don't know, Aly, it's like... it's so unfair for you. You are the one that has been trying to fix things between us, and I feel like a dick, you know? I've broken your heart, and I hadn't told you why I'm back. So I know that I have to do something. So I was going to find you and explain everything to you and— and you found out the truth before I could do that."

I did not expect that coming. I let his words sink in as I see tears forming in his eyes again.

"Why didn't you tell me about your parents?" I ask, before realizing that I'm crying too.

"Because—" he chokes a bit "—because telling you feels real. Telling you means that I really... have lost them."

A trembling breath escapes from my mouth. Grief is a feeling that I have not yet encountered. But it hurts already immensely just by seeing how others go through that—how anguishing would it be to really lose someone you loved?

"And I know I should've told you, God, I was so selfish. How many mistakes have I made?" he says before I could, his shoulder hunching as he covers his face with his palms again.

But this is not what I'm thinking. I'm thinking about how much Ethan has gone through. He has been living in guilt, and now there is grief.

So I get down to the floor, coming right in front of him. Slowly, I reach forward and wind my arms around his neck. He stiffens at first, but gradually his rigid muscles relax, he lets his head bury into my neck.

"I missed you too Aly," he murmurs into the crook of my neck. "And I miss them."

I cry in response. Because I know that he's responding to my phone call that night—I admitted that I missed him.

"I missed you every single day, Alyson, I thought of you and it hurts that I didn't want to think of you anymore... because it reminds me of how utterly wrong I was." His voice is muffled through his tears. "I came back for my parents, but deep down I knew that I was going to see you. I had to see you. But when I saw you again... I never realized how much I loved you before, so I didn't know how to face my past. I didn't know what I could do to correct my mistakes. I was so, so wrong."

And that's enough. I'm not the only one waiting in those two years. I'm not the only one that was thinking about our days back then. I'm not the only one that understands how in love we once were.

"So when I saw the gang that night I knew I had to protect you from being hurt. I didn't want to hurt you anymore, Aly," he pauses and sniffs. "But I still failed."

"Ethan," I say, wiping my eyes. "It's okay. Maybe things aren't okay, but we're okay now. We're here now."

Ethan doesn't respond. He stares at me, not a single trace of insincerity in them.

I continue, "It's okay that you're greiving, it's okay that I'm leaving three days later. And it's okay that we're not ready."

My throat is clogged up as I finish that. We're not ready.

"Why would fate draw us together again when we're not ready?" Ethan asks, his voice rough from crying.

"The opposites are flip sides of the same coin," I simply say.

a/n
thank you, Gayle Forman, for the lovely flip coin quote that has been inspiring me all the way through.