Page 13 of Pieces of Me

7

Holden

There are seven different versions of a lie.

And I just used every single one.

8

Jamie

The bell above the diner door chimes, and the single sound makes me homesick. Which is weird, considering I don’t have a home. But it reminds me of Zeke’s, and I wish I were walking into there instead of here.

I’m greeted by a middle-aged woman with bleached-blonde hair and dark eyebrows, whose smile is comparable to sunshine. “Take a seat anywhere, baby,” she almost sings, twirling her hand around the diner. There’s literallyno onehere.

“Thank you,” I manage to get out. There’s still a giant knot of withheld emotion lodged in my throat, and I really should’ve purged it before coming in here.

After Holden walked away from me, all I wanted to do was get in the RV and drive far, far away. The problem was that the second I got behind the wheel, my fatigue kicked in. It was like an adrenaline dump. The entire drive here, my body had somehow survived, running on hope and anticipation alone, and now that it’s over... all it wants to do is play dead.

Unfortunately for me, I don’t have that luxury.

I take up an entire corner booth and drag my laptop out of my bag, set it on the tabletop, and just stare at it. The server—whose name badge readsSandra—returns with a fresh pot of coffee as if she can somehow read my mind. Or maybe she’s just good at reading body language. “You look like you need this,” she states, pouring a mug to the brim.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I breathe out, bringing the mug to my lips and blowing the steam off the top. “Is it always this empty at this time?” I ask.

Zeke’s was always quiet on Friday afternoons. He said it’s because most truckers try to be home for the weekend, and most other people like to dine out somewhere a little fancier on Friday nights. It usually picks up after nine, once football games are over, and it doesn’t really stop until two in the morning, when all the drunks and the stoners come in needing something fatty and greasy to soak up the high or the alcohol.

“You just missed the lunch rush,” she states, grabbing a menu from the napkin dispenser. “It gets a little busier later.” She taps on the back of the menu. “The Wi-Fi password is there. I’ll come back for your order?”

“Thanks,” I reply, nodding.

I quickly browse the menu and decide what I want before opening my laptop. It’s been days since I’ve even checked my work email, let alone gotten any actual work done.

When Sandra returns a few minutes later, I give her my order, but she doesn’t leave right away. Given any other circumstance, I’d be happy to sit and chat, but deadlines are deadlines, and there are only so many excuses or apologies I can send out before I start losing clients.

“I take it you’re here for work?” Sandra asks, motioning to the laptop.

“No.” I shake my head. “Just... passing through.”

“Right,” she says, and then she’s gone again.

I check my emails and attempt to start work, but my brain’s fried, and my fingers refuse to type anything coherent.

Frustrated, I shut my laptop and look for Sandra, only to find her sitting on a stool at the counter, already watching me. When she smiles, I find myself doing the same. And I wonder, just for a moment, if my mother would’ve been like her had she laid off the alcohol long enough to keep her job at Zeke’s. “Miss Sandra,” I sing-song. “Would you like to join me?”

She gasps in mock horror. “Why, I’m working, Miss...?”

“Jamie.”

“Miss Jamie,” she echoes, sliding off her stool. She shuffles toward me, her shoulders to her ears, and I don’t know if she’s excited to see someone new or just... curious about the “someone new.” My question is answered the moment she slides into the booth opposite me and leans forward. “Tell me why you’re really here,” she whispers, then leans back, straightening her spine. “Never mind. I’m being nosey. My kids always tell me that, and I never listen. I’m not a gossip,” she rushes out. “But I am nosey.”

I giggle, pushing my laptop to the side. “I came to see a friend...”

“A boy?”

I nod. “It didn’t exactly go to plan.”

She hisses a breath between her teeth. “I’m sorry.”

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