Then When? (short story)

It was a cold Tuesday morning in October. The warm and well light ambiance of the diner with soft chatter in the background of their conversation made it hard for her to accentuate her disdain. She sat still, staring at the drink she ordered, mentally admitting that she no longer had the appetite for its sugary flavor.

“So… what do you think?” He smiled stupidly.

“I think you're full of shit.” She tilted her head, smiling back.

“Well, you’re not okay, and it’s not even that big of a deal, plenty of people need one.”

“Well, not me. I’m fine.” 

She glanced out the window, scanning the parking lot. There were three cars parked right next to each other. Two of them were silver, and they were divided by one blue tesla. It was a beautiful fall morning. The trees were a perfect mix of orange and yellow, and the large diner windows were covered in perfect droplets. It was her favorite season.

“I swear, if you’re thinking about running away from me again, don’t even.” 

Her gaze softened, and she just stared at him in silence. She reached for her drink and took a sip.

“Gabe, it’s too early for this. Can we just hang out for once without you trying to get me to go to someone?”

“Then when will it be the right time?”

“I don’t know! Just literally any other time than fall. It’s nice out, and I should be in bed watching a show, or home with my family, or something. I have other shit to do today besides being bothered by you, so...”

She grabbed her scarf and her drink, shuffling out of the booth. Gabe grabbed her by the wrist.

“Dee, you can’t seriously be going.” He laughed dryly. A warning sign to Dee that she needed to defuse the situation rather than leave.

“When did you even start caring about me so much?”

“You know why. I can’t lose another friend this year. Can’t you just do it for me?” Gabe pleaded desperately.

She bit her bottom lip, holding back her aggressive commentary to form a cohesive sentence.

“Okay, say I do it, and it ends up working out the way you think it will. Then what? Who’s going to pay for it? I don’t have the money, and neither do you. And we both know my parents won’t either.”

Gabe glanced at the table, silent. Dee freed her wrist from his grasp, taking a deep breath before reaching into her pocket and handing him five dollars and a pack of cigarettes. 

“Thanks for the drink. I’ll find the money and go if you agree to shut up about it.”

“Thanks Dee. Seriously, I think it’ll really help you feel better.” He smiled again, genuinely, and for a moment she felt bad about lying to him.

“Shut up.” She stepped out of the diner into the parking lot, determined not to let Gabe see the tears falling down her face. Her hands were so cold she could barely type the numbers into her phone to make the call.