10
t e n

"Cassandra! Table number two!" one of our waiters yells into the storeroom. "They want to see the manager."

Cassandra rolls her eyes and I suppress a laugh while pursing my lips. Customers are always right, but Cassandra is going to show them that this is not the case.

I peek out of the kitchen door as I see Cassandra talking to a middle-aged woman. After a few back and forth conversations, the woman gives up and storms out of the diner.

"Cassandra is something else." A voice behind me almost makes me jump. I turn around and narrow my eyes at Ethan.

Tonight is my last night here, and to my surprise, Cassandra allows Ethan to help me with kitchen work--I've had enough of waitress work, and washing dishes actually can be fun.

"Of course she's something else, it's not like she needs that one customer. Didn't you see the line outside an hour ago?" I say, returning to the sink.

Ethan chuckles and follows me. Dinner rush is almost over, but there is still a flow of dishes coming in for us. As we are done with the last plate, we stretch our sore arms at once.

I bite my lips while scanning around the kitchen. "We still get dishes to wipe."

I hear a sigh coming out from Ethan, but it slowly turns into a laugh.

Taking a washed glass cup from the drainer, I return a smile and start wiping the water droplets off with the dishcloth. Ethan nudges me aside and helps me as well.

We're alone in the kitchen now, the chefs and Cassandra are busy dealing with leftover food outside. The air is still while we focus on our work, wiping the slippery glass as the cloth runs smoothly on them.

"Aly." Ethan's voice echoes.

"Yes?"

I don't hear anything, so I look up and notice that he's gazing at me.

"When's your flight?" he asks, his voice thick with emotions.

I stifle my urge to bite my lips. "Eight in the morning."

Ethan nods. I try to sift a single emotion from his face, but I get nothing. Instead, he starts wiping his cups again.

Moments later, I hear his deep voice again. "Well... do you want me to come to the airport?"

I smile. "No, for real, you will have to wake up at five in the morning."

"I can do that—"

"No, it's fine, Ethan." The determination I have surfaces on my voice. I turn and glance at him. "It's better to end at the same place as where it starts."

Here, at Lola's diner, is where we met again two weeks ago. It's where everything started. My lips unconsciously tuck up as I recall the day Ethan walked into the diner—gosh, I had no idea back then.

"Alyson," Ethan says, flatly. "I missed you."

His abrupt statement leaves me momentarily confused. "I... I missed you too," I say, knitting my eyebrows together—haven't we already confessed this with each other before?

"No Aly, it's like how we often miss things in life. We miss bus stops, we miss opportunities, we can walk past many places and miss beautiful sceneries," Ethan says. "And I missed you, Alyson."

I realize that he's talking about the other meaning of miss. And then, I start laughing.

Perhaps what Ethan just said reminds me of how easily we can miss things in life, so easy that you can miss a person you loved.

"Ethan," I refrain from my laughter. "We are going to meet again. Maybe not in the near future, or maybe we're going to meet again very soon. No one knows."

I continue, "Maybe we will both have met the one in life, maybe we will both have graduated and found a job that we liked, maybe we will both have started our own family."

And deep down, I know that my phone will never have a picture that includes Ethan and I, but my chemistry notebook and all the sweet notes he gave me are going to follow me from apartment to apartment. From house to house.

"Life goes on." Cassandra once told me.

"So, Ethan," I finish off, staring into his pair of dark brown eyes that are filled with tears. "Thank you, for letting me know that I could be loved, for appearing again and letting me know that I can move on."

Ethan chokes out a slight smile. He starts wiping his tears away. "Someday, we will meet again."

I nod. "Someday."

Just as we're done with our conversation, I hear Cassandra's muffled yell from outside.

"Coming!" I shout as I grab my bag and pull Ethan out.

It's just like every other night—My Chemical Romance blasts from the speakers, people push tables together and sit around them, passing a large plate of leftover food. I wonder if I can ever see similar scenery like this again in my life.

And then, Cassandra hands Ethan and I a plate. On top of the plate, is a piece of margarita beef with orange salsa—the dish that Ethan ordered on our first date, the food that Cassandra placed on my plate two weeks ago.

I laugh again, just like how I did two weeks ago. But this time, I'm laughing heartily, fully. Ethan, on the other hand, is too stunned to say anything. I smirk, he remembers too.

"Just so you know, I'm glad how you two have made up," Cassandra says, her tone rather nonchalant.

I sweep my eyes around the table. I remember every single one of the worker's names, and it overwhelms me that I have to leave them all at once. Despite only working here for two weeks, everyone has helped me to navigate the struggles of being a waitress.

We start packing up after we're finally done with the night. Cassandra waves me over to a corner of the diner.

Just as I arrive, she hands me a thick envelope. "These are yours."

I open the envelope, there is a wad of cash there. A sense of accomplishment wells up in me. I don't care how sore my necks and feet and arms are, because these banknotes are what I earn.

"Thank you," I twinkle at Cassandra.

She lets out a chuckle and puts her hand on my shoulder. "If you ever come back and need money, do come here and help again."

My heart constricts, for I've never thought that saying goodbye to Cassandra would be this hard. Cassandra Lee, the person that taught me even though love causes problems, you can still fix them if you forgive.

"Also, if you ever get to eat margarita beef with salsa sauce again, tell them that the best one you've eaten comes from Lola's diner in Redwood." She takes a sip of her beer, her eyes glinting knowingly.

I crack out a bright beam, and she does as well.

In the end, we all walk out of Lola's diner. I hug everyone goodbye, and I turn to Ethan. We are both bathed in the warm yellow streetlight. I can't help but feel the deja vu.

"Ethan," I call as we stare at each other's eyes.

"Good luck, Alyson," he says, his dark brown eyes glaring into mine.

Just like that, he stretches out his arms.

I smile. I know that I will never forget about Ethan, I will never forget about how we fell in love, how he broke me, and how we met again. But I know that when I recall these memories in the future, I will be reminiscing.

I will be thinking about him, he will be thinking about me, too. But we are both going to feel completely in peace.

The streetlight is still shimmering. Finally, I hear Cassandra clicking the diner door shut behind me. And then something happens: The night becomes calm and still, and I feel a sense of relief, as if a thousand streetlights simultaneously light up.

Because life is like a whirlwind, things come as swiftly as they go.

So, slowly, I walk into his arms, and he pulls me into a firm engulf.

And when we break apart, I know that this is not the end. That really, it's just the beginning.

Someday, we will meet again.

Someday.

▃▃▃▃▃▃ THE END ▃▃▃▃▃▃