Wish We Never Started

10

When I got home last night, I made a vow to never go back to that pub, under any circumstances, but I can't quite remember why.

I ordered Sadie an uber and made her text me when she got home. This morning, my phone tells me she obliged with my request.

Now, today is Thanksgiving and I trudge into my shift tired, hungry, and a little hungover. Work is the last place I want to be, but I sling the apron over my head. At least I get a free meal.

At the end of my shift, I'm finally able to check my phone and get some fresh air. It's cold and damp from a few showers earlier in the day, with light fog tunneling around me.

There is a voicemail notification from my mom and an email from her as well. I can only see the subject of the email: Plane tickets.

My heart skips a beat. Going home right now is something I can't do.

I click the notification and it takes me to her email with a link to printable plane tickets back to San Francisco. The dates are for the week of Christmas through New Year's Day.

Underneath, there is text:

Your father bought you these so you can come home and celebrate with everyone. We miss you!

I stare at the email for what feels like an eternity, completely frozen in time.

I'm a massive disappointment to my entire family right now. But do you blame them? Here I am, years into a move that was hundreds of miles away, promising I'd start a good life for myself. A complete failure.

They're probably expecting to hear big news, like I started medical school or somehow made it to the top of the corporate chain – actually, that's the only news they'd want to hear.

I can't compete with my cousins either, one who is an oncologist and the other a pharmacist. I've lost track of the rest because they are slightly younger than me and were only beginning college when I left.

The unknown should probably stay that way for my sake.

A shiver runs up my spine, a sudden wave of sleepiness crashing into me, snapping me from my disbelief of this email. All I want to do is go home and sleep.

I start walking and it's like a ghost city – the fog, the lack of traffic, the fact it's 5pm and almost dark outside.

Briefly, my family flashes in my mind. My big, rich, crazy family. They are probably drunk right now and just wrapping up dinner. My dad on one end of the table and my grandfather on the other, a dozen cousins and aunts and uncles sandwiched in between.

I can imagine my cousin Samuel, who is my age, asking if anyone has heard from me. My dad would probably laugh and wave him off like he's crazy.

Halfway home, Amelia texts me and asks me to come to her place for dessert. She specifies "not that kind of dessert, but the real kind." I'm still not sure which kind she is implying.

Exhausted, I sigh and begin typing to tell her I can't drive and I'm just going home to sleep today off.

She responds right away that she is already on her way, even though she doesn't know where I live or where I am.

"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. It's now completely dark, the streetlights illuminating the fog underneath them into a cool gray that almost looks dystopian.

Up ahead there is a bench so I can sit down. What do I tell her? How do I explain where I am? Then I remember the one time Diego dropped me his pinned location, so I do a quick google search on how to do it and send it over to Amelia.