Salt. Pepper.
It's what I put on my food, piles, and piles of it. It's the only way I can eat my hash browns and eggs. Across the diner, I spot my parents and Andreas. His back is to me, I can see the tenseness in his shoulders, the slump in his neck. My mother occasionally looks up from her plate, stares at me, and then looks back down. My father doesn't look my way.
I wonder if he's mad at me, or Andreas, or himself. How could he do that? How could he go behind my back and talk to Andreas about what we had? It was none of his business, I repeat this saying in my head as I eat my eggs.
It needs more salt, maybe I could use my tears.
I don't even know what to feel right now. Somewhere deep in the pits of my soul, I understand why my father did what he did, and I hate it. He's a quiet man, unlike my mother. He jokes around and is usually the life of the party, but only speaks up when it's necessary. Him talking to Andreas, never thought that would happen, but at the end of the day, I understood.
He was looking out for me.
Because I couldn't look out for myself.
Look what happened, Andreas hurt me in the end, but he only did that because of what my father told him. Whatever he said, it stuck with him.
I see men's shoes walk up to my table, along with those shoes are long legs that wear jeans and a strong upper body.
Andreas.
"Hi," I say to him, finishing my eggs.
"Hey." He sits down in the empty booth across from me. "Your parents are ready to go now."
I sigh, "Yeah, let's go. I'm done eating."
My parents pay the bill. Andreas and I follow my parents out to the car, we get in the back while my mother and father sit in the front. He starts the car, pulls out of the parking lot, and heads down the road. I look out the window, watching the houses pass us by. Children are playing on the street; adults walk their animals and a woman is outside arguing on the phone.
I feel something warm touch my hand, it's Andreas's hand. It's big and comforting, wrapping around my entire hand that was once cold. He smiles at me, mouthing that he loves me.
How could I be mad at him?
How could I say what I did to him only minutes before? He was only doing what he thought was right, and I can't bring up what he said again, I already forgave him, I would be a hypocrite.
I love him. No matter what he does, I'll always love him.
I bring his hand that's interlocked with mine to my lips and kiss it. I kiss it over and over again, I don't even care who's looking, I know my mother is. I see her smile in the rearview mirror, my father doesn't smile.
The car jerks to the left, pulling over on the side of the road.
"Honey, what are you pulling over for?" my mother asked, looking at us to see if we are ok. My head almost hit the window with how fast he turned the car. He pulls out his keys and then looks back at me.
"We need to talk, Elizabeth." He slams his door, walking heavily footed to a tall tree that looms over us, creating shadows.
We do need to talk; I just didn't think it would be right now. On a Thursday at 10 A.M., on a random piece of land.
"I need to go." I unlock my hand with Andreas, following behind my father. There is so much I want to say, but I don't know where to start.
I start the conversation, "A part of me is mad at you, but the other part is grateful that you did say something." I say, kicking the rocks with my converses.
He bites his lip, "Grateful? I never thought I would hear that."
I let out a wry laugh, "I know, dad. Why did you think that it would be appropriate to speak to him about us? Why not come to me."
"I didn't think that I needed to. If I came to you, it wouldn't have ended well and I didn't want you to know that I knew about you guys. Andreas, he's the type of guy that can recognize his wrongs, and I knew he would see reason."
I cross my arms, looking him straight in the eyes, "Do you even know what he said to me? What it did to me, dad? You might have been doing the right thing, but I had to reap the consequences."
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do. When he cut things off with me, I felt like a part of me was I don't know- like off. It might sound cliché or whatever, but that's the truth. I didn't understand why he cut things off, the reasons he told me I knew were bullshit, but another part of me thought that maybe it was real, and I dreamt about what we had. That the sex was just that, sex, and he used me and I was dumb. Now, I know the exact reason he did, my pain was caused by my father." I look at the car, watching Andreas talk to my mother, probably concerned about what's going on out here. I know he can hear everything.
My father walks towards me, I don't move. "I know he hurt you, I didn't plan on that happening. I thought he would just cut things off with you and that would be it, not that he would emotionally hurt you. You would have bent for him, Elizabeth."
"Bent? What are you talking about?" I purse my lips, giving him all my attention.
"I knew just from the way you touched his hand, that there was more to what you had with Andreas. I didn't know how he felt, but I knew how you did. Andreas was never going to make you anything more, not without someone telling him the truth and laying it out. You would have kept sleeping with him, being his sidepiece."
"No, I wouldn't have-"
"Don't lie to yourself, you know the truth. People do stupid things when they love someone, and would typically lose their morals to be happy. I didn't want that for you! I wanted a guy to want to be with you from the start, to not be having you like the side piece and maybe even marry you! Andreas wasn't going to give that to you."
"It was none of your business though! It was my problem, my situation. I knew that he didn't want a girlfriend, I knew that he told me. I was aware, dad!"
He looks at me with a perplexed face, probably wondering why I knew and didn't say anything.
Why.
Why?