181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 32: Dried Tears

We stayed inside the car an hour more than what I planned that night. Intending to impress Mickey at the same time ensure her safety, I told her I could drive her to her house, but she refused, saying that her parents would worry more if someone they had not met yet—especially that I was a student same as her—drove her home. So instead, I dropped her off to the nearest waiting shed that was safe enough for her to get home.

However, on the way back, I didn't notice a trash can along the way, which scratched the right side of our car. When I came back, I calmly told Troy my mistake and gave him money for auto repair.

But then the morning after, while I was opening the car door, Troy started, "Ms. Maddie, you're banned from driving."

"What? Why? Did Mom say so?"

Troy shook his head. "She gave me the power to decide if I should let you drive again," he replied without looking at me. "I know you can afford the auto repairs for every accident, but imagine if you were an average citizen. You can't just buy off the consequences of your actions."

I smiled. "A much-needed sermon. Thanks, Troy. I'll take note. But you can't ban me forever, or else I'll forget how to drive."

"Yes, Ms. Maddie, of course."

"Deal. I swear, I will be more careful. Or maybe I'll use the older one." I stepped into the car and then stayed seated until I found a comfortable position. Troy did too as he buckled up. I was about to say that we could skip Cornelia's, but then I clung to the hope the Amielle had already returned, so I let it be.

When we arrived at Cornelia's, I saw from the glass door that Franco was the one getting the orders. My shoulders fell as I thought that Amielle wasn't still around. I entered the café anyway, thinking that I was already there anyway, so I should order the usual.

"Oh, good morning, Ms. Maddie," he greeted, to which I greeted back. "Sorry, I was taking an order from a customer, so I didn't see you coming."

"No worries—"

"Franco, did you see my pin?"

I was surprised when Amielle exited the staff door, her hair now cut up to her chin. The sudden change left my mouth open. It looked good on her, which made me wonder if asking her about the change would be offensive.

"Oh, hi, Ms. Maddie," she greeted shyly. "Your usual order?"

"Yes, yes," I nervously responded, my mind clearly somewhere else. I was obviously surprised to see her. "Mind if you—"

But Amielle quickly walked to the coffee bar to prepare my order while Franco asked me if I would pay in cash. It was if she was intentionally avoiding me.

No. I didn't want to die without ensuring Amielle was safe.

I didn't know why, but I just had this strong connection toward her, which was weird. I knew deep in my heart that I wasn't romantically invested in her . . . so what was this? It dawned on me that I wanted my power back so I could sip a small droplet of an alcohol drink and find out if she would live as long as me. Why didn't I do that when I had the ability? I thought to myself. Now I was stuck with this strange bond—far from romance, nearer to friendship . . . but still not there.

"Here you go, Ms. Maddie," Amielle said with a smile as she handed me my order. I wanted to talk to her so badly, but she seemed . . . cold. Yes, sure, she wasn't avoiding me, but her body language told me she didn't want to get involved with me anymore.

I weakly sighed and got the paper bag from her hands, which I accidentally touched.

Things got weird fast.

An electric current flowed through me, transporting me to another place that was definitely not the café. I didn't know where I was, and the people walking by weren't familiar either. Amielle was nowhere to be found.

"Where the f—Amielle? Amielle? Franco?" I shouted hysterically, but no one seemed to hear me. I tried asking one of the vendors selling fruits where I was, but I was stupefied when a kid passed through me, as if I were ghost . . . or was I now?

But why would I be? Confused, I turned around and then looked from left to right, searching for answers I didn't know the questions to. It was then when a familiar voice distracted me from the turmoil I was in: "Sure, sure, madam. I will always be at your service."

When I turned to where the voice came from, my immediate reaction was shock and disbelief. I covered my opened mouth as tears welled up in my eyes and fell to my cheeks.

Dad. Dad was alive.

I didn't care if I was dreaming. Dreams were a product of the brain, which meant that I wanted this one way or another. It was too vivid, though, as I could identify what he was wearing from where I stood: a checkered yellow button-down polo, denim jeans, and a pair of sneakers—a combination he would never wear. Weird, but I would take this anytime. Dad being alive was too good to be true, so I would savor this dream. At least here, I would be able to hug him . . . now as a teenager.

"Dad . . . Dad!"

When I ran to him, the path I treaded seemed like miles long. So the moment I hugged him, it felt real, and I wished it did. Not minding how I was able to touch him, not minding the unique, earthy smell as if he was working on a farm, I muttered, "I miss you, Dad."

I didn't expect him to reply; I was actually expecting to wake up. But because of the next thing I heard from him, I didn't know if I should be torn into pieces or drown deeper into perplexity: "Who are you?"

All I could think about was how I missed his voice, but then conversations began to feel real, especially when the man next to him asked, "Whom are you talking to, Eleazar?"

"This . . . lady . . . hugging me," Dad replied.

"What lady? Please, Eleazar. Is that one of your ghost stories again?"

Confused, we both looked at each other, our brows crossed. But that moment was the trigger for me to return to where I originally was—in the café . . . with Amielle.

However, it wasn't the same scenario I left—Amielle was being fanned by Franco, while I was standing frozen on the same spot, stained by the hot chocolate Amielle had prepared, surrounded by customers who were as shocked as I was.

And I had dried tears on my cheeks.