Before We Say Goodbye

Chapter Fourteen: Caramel Coffee

I stand by the door, watching her. She wears the smallest smile, her eyes half closed. Suddenly her brow crumples up. I don’t know why but the new expression on her face – the broken, hopeless one – tugs at my heartstrings. I want to make her smile.

I hurry through the tables, drawing a chair noisily and sitting down opposite her.

“Hey,” I say.

She jumps. “Oh, hi,” she replies, smiling.

I drum my fingers at the table. “Um. What have you got?” I point at her mug.

She looks down, as though surprised. Like she forgot the mug was there. “Oh, caramel coffee.”

“Did you pay for it?”

She sniffs haughtily. “No. I stole it.”

I narrow my eyes. “Ha ha,” I say drily. “How much did it cost?”

“Three fifty.”

I don’t remember the caramel coffees being so expensive.

I dig around in my pocket, looking for some change. All I’ve got is four one pound coins. I hand them to her.

“Keep the change,” I say gruffly, not looking at her.

“What?”

I feel my face heat up. Damn it! Is she deaf? Why do I have to say it again?

“Keep the change, stupid.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want your money.”

She tries to give it back to me, but I refuse. “No, I don’t want it.”

“Sure you don’t. Look, it’s four pounds. Who doesn’t want four pounds?”

“If four pounds is so awesome, then why don’t you keep it?”

“Because I don’t want it!”

I look up to glare at her. She glares right back. We both hold our expressions, neither of us wanting to be the first to back down. Finally, she looks away.

“I’ll find a way of giving it back to you,” she huffs.

Remind me why I asked her out again?

Because you like her.

“You’re an idiot,” I inform her.

“No I’m not.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Want to bet?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi, what can I…oh.”

I glance up at the waitress. It’s my cousin, Marley. She stares at my burns uncomfortably.

I forgot. I haven’t seen her since before.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sophie asks her angrily.

“Nothing, nothing,” Marley says quickly, recovering from her shock. She bends down to whisper in my ear, “Can I have a word, Damon?”

I sigh. It was going to happen eventually.

I get up and she leads me behind the counter, leaving a confused Sophie behind.

“What’s up?” I ask Marley tiredly.

“Nothing. I’m going to cut to the chase, Damon. What the hell happened to you?”

I shrug. “I got in an accident. Why?”

Marley reaches out a hand to touch my ridged cheek. “I’m so sorry, Damon.”

“Why does everyone always say that?” I snarl, jerking away from her touch. “It’s not your fault. Just stop with saying sorry. It’s getting old.”

I try to walk away, fed up, but Marley grabs my arm. “Don’t be mad, Damon,” she begs, apology in her tone. “I didn’t mean to upset you! I just…I don’t know. I wish I could help.”

“I don’t need help,” I hiss. “I’m perfectly fine. Finely perfect. Just piss off!”

I storm away, back to Sophie. As I near her, I see her quickly stuff something in her bag, blushing.

I frown. “What was that?” I ask.

She bites her lip, seeming to have some sort of internal battle. “Nothing,” she finally says, suddenly extremely interested in her fingernails.

I sit down. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I don’t think I’ll be able to get her to tell me, so I decide to order a caramel coffee, hoping she’ll tell me herself.

She stays silent while I order, and she stays silent while I get my drink, and she stays silent while I pay, and she stays silent while I drink.

Finally I can’t take it any more.

“Sophie,” I begin carefully, “you know when you were at my house? And I said you didn’t know what it was like to suffer?”

She nods.

“And then you said – you said, ‘at least you’re going to live past your teenage years’, or something like that. And when I asked what you meant, you said it was a figure of speech.”

Is it me, or has she gone really pale?

“What is it really?”

She takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Sophie?”

“I feel sick,” she mutters.

I frown. “Sophie – ”

“No. I mean, I think I’m going to throw up.”

She kicks the chair away from her and rushes to the ladies’. I follow her, not stopping to think about where exactly I’m going. I get in just in time to see her kneeling down my a toilet in the cramped cubicle, pouring her guts out.

I kneel down next to her, something I would never normally do – kneeling down on the floor of a public bathroom, that is – and hold her hair up while she retches and coughs.

“What’s wrong, Sophie? Why are you throwing up?” I ask softly.

She pauses, breathing deeply. “I…I think I took too many pills,” she mumbles, shuddering. “I took too many…”

I close my eyes. What’s wrong with this girl?