Page 51 of After All This Time

That’s all that comes out of my mouth.

His name.

A name I couldn’t stand to hear when I was younger. I don’t mind hearing his name come out of my mouth anymore.

We’re both looking deep into each other’s eyes.

He has tears streaming down the smooth skin on his face. “Let’s go,” he says.

He shifts the gear into reverse and wipes away the remnants of the tears that are falling out of his eyes.

Why does my heart feel like it’s breaking?

We pull up to Marina’s Diner.

One thing that sets Marina’s apart from other diners is that it overlooks the ocean. The sun has set and the sky is dark.

Looking out of the window, I see a cluster of stars and smile.

Marina’s interior is full of retro teals and greenery with a jukebox leaning against the wall near the entrance.

It feels like I took a time machine back to the ‘60s and ‘70s.

“Why did you want to sit in this specific booth?” Noah wonders.

“My dad and I used to sit here when we came for burger Wednesdays after he’d picked me up from middle school. Sitting here feels like he’s actually here with us. With me.”

“Do you miss him?” he asks, looking everywhere else, but at me.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?”

“I’ve never seen a father love his child like the way that Jacob loved you,” he blurts out. “Your dad lit up every room he was in. Just like mine did. God, those two were unstoppable together. And honestly annoying sometimes. I remember when the Sunset Cove University stingrays made it to the finals when we were in our freshman year of high school.” He pauses for a brief moment. “Basketball lingo.”

I can’t help but stare at him.

“When they won, our dads screamed so fucking loud that we got a noise complaint from the neighbors. Do you remember that?”

“Uh-huh.”

My eyes aren’t glassy anymore. Tears are streaming out of them now. Burying my face in my arm, I try to control myself because I’m aware we’re in public.

A smile begins to form on his face, but we get interrupted before either of us can say anything else to each other.

“Dani Solomon, is that you?” A familiar voice asks, walking over to us.

“Hi, Marina.”

Marina is in her mid-sixties. She has long, dark brunette hair cascading down her back, with emerald green eyes.

The diner has been in her family for generations. It all started with her grandmother. She’s been running the place since I was a kid.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time, kiddo.”

“I know. College and writing has been keeping me busy.”

---