Diners and Deep Conversations
We’ve been on the road for hours and Zaid hasn’t said a word.
In his defense, neither have I, but I don’t want to be the only one breaking the ice between the two of us. The hum of the engines and the rhythm of the tires against the road is the only sound in the car.
I let my eyes slide over to look at Zaid’s profile. His eyes are fixed on the road, but his expression is distant. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tight.
I lean back in my seat and look out into the passing landscape. It’s a flat, dirt road for miles with the occasional lonely tree and cacti. It’s nothing like Florida with the green trees and water everywhere. It’s dry, cracked and brown, but there’s at least an endless, beautiful sky above us.
Zaid’s phone buzzes on the dashboard, and he reaches for it without taking his eyes off the road.
He taps something and hands it to me. “You should keep looking at the houses. Choose the ones you want to see, so we have something to do when we get there.”
I take his phone, still warm from his hand. I feel a surge in my heart. The fact that he trusts me with this, unlocked, is crazy.
I scroll through the list of houses he has. One catches my eye more than the rest. Green everywhere, a wraparound porch with a swing, a lake in the background. It looks peaceful.
I blink as I imagine us there. Zaid and I, sitting on the swing to watch the sunrise and the sunsets. Talking and laughing over the dumbest things.
I swallow the emotion in my throat and turn to him.
“This one,” I say softly, my fingers brushing over the screen.
Zaid glances at it, his gaze flickering briefly before he looks away, his jaw tightening. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I feel the space between us grow even larger.
But then he lets out a breath, his hand tightening on the wheel. “That was my favorite, too.”
For a brief moment, the tension softens. He still knows me. He still sees me. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse. We share the same soul, and everything we do, everything we say, just reminds me of that fact.
We drive for a while longer in silence, only the sound of the engine and the occasional crackle of the radio filling the air. Neither of us has dared to put music on or anything, content with the silence.
The miles stretch out, and I wish I could ease the tension in the car.
The sun starts to dip lower in the sky, and Zaid pulls into a small diner on the side of the highway. Thank god, because I was starving. We get out of the car and walk inside; the door jingling as we enter.
The inside smells like grease and coffee. There’s the hum of conversation and the clink of silverware, though it’s mostly empty. The entire thing hits me like a brick, reminding me of the first time Zaid took me to his favorite diner.
I smile to myself, my hands resting on the edge of the table as we sit down.
Zaid looks at me for a moment, then down at the menu. I don’t want to talk, but the silence is too heavy. I shift in my seat, trying to figure out what to say, when something inside me shifts, and I ask, “Will you tell me more about your mother?”
His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of emotion crossing his face before he schools it back into place. The question would be random and totally out of the blue if it weren’t for the setting.
He understands why I’m asking.
His gaze flickers to the window before he answers. “She was kind of a burst of energy.”
My heart races in my chest as the memories rush through his eyes.
“She thought aliens were real, had a theory about how they hide in plain sight.”
A smile widens across my face. “Really?”
He nods. “Did you know her and my dad were together since college?”
Warmth spreads through me. “That’s sweet.”
He presses his lips into a tight line. “She actually dated my uncle John before my dad.”
I tilt my head, studying him as he speaks. “Your dad stole her from his brother?”
Zaid’s eyes narrow slightly, “I don’t think so; they were good friends, the three of them. But it’s also one of those things we didn’t really talk about. Like it was weird that she dated him before my dad.”
I can’t help the chuckle that leaves me. “I wonder what she would think of us.”
He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “That’s a good question.”
I hum softly, considering his words. “Aiden said you were her favorite. Is that true?”
His frown deepens at that. He hesitates, like he’s weighing the answer. “I think she loved us both equally. But Aiden was always kind of distant. Not in a bad way, just got along better with my dad, you know? And my dad prefers him, too.”
There’s a heaviness in his voice when he says it, an ache in his words that pulls at my chest.
“We were on our way home from my physical therapy.”
The comment comes out of nowhere, but I lift my eyes to watch him stare out the window and I know exactly what he’s talking about. My heart races, tears burning the back of my eyes.
“She believed I could play basketball again. Insisted on it. I was being stubborn, telling her I couldn’t.”
I press a hand to my trembling lips.
“We were arguing. I was looking at the road, and I didn’t move fast enough. Maybe if I had been calmer, I could’ve moved faster. I could have avoided him.”
I reach for him, placing my hand on his. “Zaid, it’s not your fault. He was drunk.”
He looks at me, giving me a forced smile. The same one I’ve given hundreds of people when I can’t stop the guilt.
We eat in silence after that. It feels like we’re drifting, like the words we need to say are caught somewhere in our throats, too difficult to bring to the surface.
Later, as the night falls, we pull into a nice hotel. The neon sign outside flickers as we check in.
We open the door to the room, and my heart sinks when I see two beds. For a second, I wish we didn’t have to share a room at all.
I sit on the edge of the bed, my fingers tracing the quilt as Zaid sets our bags down on the floor. We don’t say anything for a long while.
We get ready for bed in silence. Zaid turns off the light, and I lie down, staring at the ceiling. I’ve never felt so alone with someone so close.
My heart aches for him, for the man I love and the man I’ve lost.
Sleep doesn’t come easy. I lie there, wide awake, thinking of how we got here and where we might go, if anywhere at all.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
