The Leftovers

“Until you scared the shit outta me.”
    “Sorry about that.” Scott Frost, the unpierced twin, was the passenger. “You know karate?”
    “Yeah, Jackie Chan’s my uncle.”
    He grinned his approval. “Good one.”
    “Where’s Aimee?” Adam Frost called from the driver’s seat. “We haven’t seen her for a while.”
    “Working,” Jill explained. “She got a job at Applebee’s.”
    Scott squinted at her with puffy, soulful eyes. “Need a ride somewhere?”
    “I’m good,” she told him. “I live right across the tracks.”
    “You sure? It’s fucking freezing out.”
    Jill gave a stoic shrug. “I don’t mind walking.”
    “Hey.” Adam leaned into view. “If you see Aimee, tell her I said hi.”
    “Maybe we could party sometime,” Scott suggested. “All four of us.”
    “Sure,” Jill said, and the Prius departed as quietly as it had arrived.
    *   *   *
    IN THE men’s room, Kevin splashed cold water on his face and wiped it off with a paper towel. He felt like a fool, breaking down in front of Nora like that. He could see how uncomfortable it made her, the way she froze up, like she’d never seen a grown man cry and didn’t even know it was possible.
    He’d caught himself by surprise, too. He’d been so worried about her reaction to what he was saying, he wasn’t even thinking about his own. But something had snapped inside of him, a rubber band of tension that had been wound so tight for so long he’d forgotten it was even there. It was the phrase little boy that had done it, the sudden memory of an easy weight on his shoulders, Tom perched up there like a king on a throne, gazing down upon the world, one delicate hand resting on top of his father’s head, the heels of his Velcro-fastened sneakers knocking softly against Kevin’s chest as they walked.
    Despite what had happened, he was glad he’d shared his good news with her, glad he’d resisted the temptation to spare her feelings. For what? So they could continue hiding from each other, eating their meal in uneasy silence, wondering why they had nothing to talk about? This way was harder, but it felt like a breakthrough, a necessary first step on a road that might actually lead somewhere worth going.
    I don’t know about you, he thought he would tell her when he got back, but a nice dinner always makes me cry .
    That would be the way to handle it—no apology, just a little joke to smooth things over. He crumpled the towel and dropped it into the wastebasket, checking himself one last time in the mirror before heading out the door.
    A small seed of alarm sprouted in his chest as he made his way across the dining room and saw that their table was empty. He told himself not to worry, that she must have taken advantage of his absence to make her own trip to the restroom. He poured himself a little more wine and ate a forkful of roasted beet salad, trying not to stare at the balled-up napkin resting beside her plate.
    A couple of minutes went by. Kevin thought about knocking on the ladies’ room door, maybe sticking his head inside to see if she was okay, but the handsome waiter stopped by the table before he had a chance. The man looked at Kevin with an expression that seemed to combine equal parts sadness and sympathetic amusement. His voice had a slight Spanish accent.
    “Shall I clear the lady’s plate, sir? Or would you just prefer the check?”
    Kevin wanted to protest, to insist that the lady would be right back, but he knew it was futile.
    “Did she—?”
    “She asked me to convey her apologies.”
    “But I drove,” Kevin said. “She doesn’t have a car.”
    The waiter lowered his gaze, nodding toward the food on Kevin’s plate.
    “Shall I box that up for you?”
    *   *   *
    JILL CROSSED the street, keeping her chin up and her shoulders back as she hustled past Junior’s Auto Body, a hospital for cars with shattered windshields and dimpled doors, dangling fenders and crumpled front ends. Some of the bad ones had deflated air bags drooping from the steering wheels, and it wasn’t unusual for a bag to be spotted with blood. She knew from experience not to look too hard or think too much about the people who’d been inside.
    She felt like an idiot for declining the twins’ offer of a ride home. It was just injured pride that made her do it, anger at them for sneaking up on her like that, even if they hadn’t meant to. There was also a certain amount of good-girl caution at work, the little