T W E N T Y - E I G H T

I hand a small iced coffee to a young, freckled preteen staring at me with pity in her eyes. "Enjoy," I mutter softly, watching her as she rejoins her group of friends in the bean bags chairs. She whispers something to them and they all look up at me, the same sad look in their eyes. If only you knew, I think to myself, imagining the crazy Beau Lewis fantasies they have in their heads.

Letting out a deep sigh, I grab the soapy rag from my wash bucket and scrub the counter top, still sticky from an earlier iced mocha spill. My mind is numb as I work, mechanically going through the motions as I try to distract myself from the unanswered messages in my phone.

A smack on the counter by the register grabs my attention, and I'm greeted by one of Chloe's snide smiles. Glancing at the magazine she's thrown to the counter, I read yet another headline about Beau and I splitting up. "Didn't Nadine ban you from the cafe?" I raise my brows at her and drop the rag back into my bucket, sending suds into the air.

"Oh, I just wanted to donate some new reading material," She taps her manicured fingers against the magazine cover. "I thought you especially might enjoy the cover story,"

I roll my eyes and open my mouth to tell her where to shove it when Nadine speaks from behind me. "I told you, you aren't welcome here. Do I need to call the police?" She sticks her hands on her hips and glares intently at Chloe. Chloe sputters incoherently under Nadine's gaze, but she speaks over her anyways, "Get, before I call." Chloe's dark curls bounce as she turns to leave but Nadine stops her once more, taking the magazine from the counter and extending it to her. "And take this trash with you,"

Wordlessly, Chloe takes the gossip mag and heads out the door, little bells jingling happily overhead as she does. Grabbing the rag again, I resume my work quietly and more fervently than before. "Are you okay?" Nadine speaks softly into my ear, careful not to let the customers hear us.

I nod, "I'm fine."

It's just that having my face plastered on every magazine with dozens of stories outlining "where everything went wrong" in Beau and I's relationship, is worse than I'd have imagined it would be. Between young girls looking at me like I lost the chance of a lifetime, and people like Chloe happy to see me fall, I can't get a moment away from the whole situation.

"Emma," Nadine places a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay to hurt, you know," I halt my movements and close my eyes momentarily. Hurting isn't the problem, I wipe my forehead with the back of my forearm.

"I can't Nadine." I shake my head, aware that everyone in the cafe can see me. "You were just right all along I guess," I sigh and get back to work, my arm sore from furiously assaulting the cracked, blue countertop.

The rest of the day passes similarly, highlighted by a stop from Stevie grabbing coffees for the workers at the general store. Nadine steps forward, ready to defend me once more when I cut in front of her at the counter. She can't ban the entire town on my account.

Stevie is falsely cheerful, his condescending sneer letting me know of his satisfaction to see me back without Beau.

"Thanks Emma," Stevie lifts his tray to me as he leaves. "It's good seeing you again," his eyes glint wickedly. I clench my jaw in response, slamming the metal tray of baked goods to the counter harder than necessary.

Nadine carries a large platter of espressos to a group of older men playing dominoes but keeps her eyes on my face. Once she's back behind the counter, she rinses her tray and asks casually. "Do you need to leave early?" Thinking of the few weeks I took off for the tour, I shake my head and continue to refill the sugars.

***

"I don't know, Gemma," I sigh, sparing a glance at my phone perched on my dashboard. "I still have modeling stuff until I finish out the contract," I'd been in touch with Oliver and Zara, who paid me mock condolences for my lost relationship, but agreed that I'd be able to fly out when they needed me as we'd originally planned.

Gemma nods, the wheels turning in her newly silver head. "Okay. Well, all I'm saying is that if you want some time away for awhile, a European backpacking trip is a good option,"

I smile somewhat at my best friend. Will I go with her? Probably not, I've had enough chaos in my life lately than to take a backpacking trip with Gemma, the queen of spontaneity. But still, she's supporting me in the way she knows how and I love her for that.

"I'll think about it," I promise her anyways, turning the car down the long dirt driveway, the afternoon sun bright in my eyes.

"Say hi to Nana for me," Gemma blows a kiss into the phone and we hang up our video call just as I pull into a parking spot in front of Nana's nursing home.

At the entrance desk, I sign into the large guestbook and wait for someone to assist me, admiring the new artwork on the walls, painted by some of the residents themselves. "Miss Carter!" Abigail is taken aback when she sees me, her hand flying to her chest in shock. "We hadn't expected you back so soon," Her tone tells me she's glad to see me anyways. "Nadine visited just last week." I smile gratefully, never doubting that Nadine would step in when I asked her to.

"There was a change of plans," I admit casually. "Hey, I know it's Nana's nap time, but can I pop in quick to see her? I've missed her,"

Abigail's smile widens as she beckons me to follow her. "Peggy's awake actually, in the music room," Unfamiliar with the room, I take her lead down the lengthy corridors lined with comfortable benches and armchairs for when the residents need a short break. "She's been listening to music more and more lately," Abigail informs me and I hold back a humorless chuckle. I, on the other hand, have been avoiding the radio entirely.

Soft piano playing fills the air as I scan the room for Nana, finding her sitting in a plush sofa in the far corner. I thank Abigail and make my way slowly to where Nana is seated, enjoying the gentle notes after so much heavy rock recently.

"Oh, Marie," Nana's eyes trail from the staff member tapping the piano keys to my face, mistaking me, as she often does, for her own blonde haired, brown eyed daughter. I smile at the connection, wishing I was more like my mother when it came to the personality department - charming and lovable, no one could ever resist her contagious, upbeat attitude. And I mean no one. Probably not even Beau, my mind adds softly.

"Hi Mom," I play along and sit beside her, taking one of her hands in mine.

We sit in silence for a little while as I stroke soft circles on her soft, wrinkled skin. When the song fades out and the employee takes a moment to choose a new song, Nana squints at me suspiciously, placing her other hand on my cheek. "What's making you sad, honey? You're frowning," she taps my chin lightly.

I sigh and lean into her hand, knowing she won't remember Beau even if I try. "There's someone I care about very much, but I don't think it's going to work out."

After a couple of seconds searching my face, Nana shrugs casually, a gesture that reminds me of Beau. "Who needs 'em?"

I smirk at her usual bluntness, glad that some of her personality has managed to stay the same. "You think so?" I raise a brow at her expectantly.

She shrugs again, resuming her focus on the young man playing softly in the background. "You're young and the whole world is yours, if you want it." She speaks like her mind is in another time, back when she was young and the whole world was hers for the taking. Absorbing her short words of wisdom, I sink lower into the sofa, enjoying the music with her, a newfound resolve settling inside of me.

Once I'm home after my visit with Nana, I throw some stuffed chicken in the oven for dinner and grab my laptop, setting myself up at the kitchen table. Typing the school's website into my browser, I begin brainstorming ideas for the final part of my college application - the essay. I've written and rewritten, edited and re-edited, finished it and began again, more times than I can even count. But it was different before, essay or no essay, there was no way I could afford school.

Thinking of my current savings, I push headphones in my ears, turn on some white noise as music is just too hard right now, and get to writing.

As the light beyond my windows fades and my kitchen fills with the delicious aroma of dinner, my fingers fly furiously across the keyboard, updating my personal essay to reflect my journey these past few months. The struggle with Beau, with myself, with trying to find a way to connect to my parents, all of it.

Standing to remove my chicken from the oven, I flex my fingers and stretch my hands above my head. "Time for a little break," I yawn, pushing the million different tweaks I could make to the essay from my mind momentarily.

Setting my plate on my placemat, I dig in, remembering the company I've grown used spending dinners with the past few months. I glance around the empty apartment and wince. As small as it is, it feels empty without him here. Maybe it always will.

Finishing the last of my broccoli, I decide that I'll spend tomorrow cleaning the space of all things Beau Lewis. Shot glasses by the sink? Trash. Whiskey always stocked in the pantry? Down the drain. Hair product in my medicine cabinet? Garbage. Denim jacket left on the back of my door? Well, I'll probably put that in a box somewhere.

In fact, I grab my phone and open up my music app, let's get one thing out of the way right now, I think to myself, deleting my MisFits playlist all together.

There, I let out a content sigh. Now I won't be tempted to listen to their songs and dissect the lyrics I know Beau wrote, looking for some sort of clue as to why he is the that way he is. Clues that will lead me nowhere except frustration and disappointment.

Tossing my dishes in the sink to wash another time, I pull my laptop closer again and reread my personal statement one last time. Satisfied that I've answered the prompt, recalling a time that you failed and how you moved on, in my own little way, I press the submit button with shaky fingers.

Congratulations! Your application has been submitted!

A notice pops up on my screen and despite the ache in my heart, a smile flashes across my face. "Okay Nana, let's see if the world really is mine," I smirk, already creating a countdown on my phone until the decision release date.

Before I head to bed, I create a to-do list. Purge the apartment of his things. Find scholarships to apply to. Apply for financial aid. Share the good news.

I fall asleep considering the last item, knowing the person I most want to call and tell, is exactly the person I can't.