6. Reunion

Scarlett didn’t know this, but she wouldn’t have believed it if she did. Even if Dalton had told her himself, she would have labeled it off as mocking her and nothing new would happen. Scarlett’s self-destruction played on her in such a way that nothing was good; things couldn’t go her way because she wanted them to. In reality, she subconsciously wanted things not to go her way just so that she could sit in her own misery, but that found other ways to work out.
For a while it didn’t matter, Scarlett never saw Dalton anymore. They weren’t in school, they never ran into each other by coincidence. So that should have stopped them, setting the stage for a classic fadeout where they both moved on with life, but it didn’t do anything at all.
Scarlett felt a vibration along her hips, and read the message glaring at her through the screen.
“Scarlett? Are you there?”
“Dalton? It’s been a while.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been talking to you.”
“Oh, that’s alright. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’ve just had a lot of stuff going on. It’s not permanent, though.”
“Oh, I see. Well I hope it gets better.”
“Thanks. But Scarlett?”
“Yeah?”
“I was wondering. Do you want to do something?”
“Sure. Want to go to coffee?”
“Ya. I’ll meet you at Starbucks.”
And she closed her phone, taking in the moment as if it never happened at all. She panicked for a moment, she was going to be alone when she arrived. There was no way he would show up, the entire conversation was probably a delusion. She had to open her phone again, she had to re-read the conversation before she took out her keys to leave, to meet Dalton.
Scarlett’s drive was narrated by racing thoughts about how this must not be real, set along to the music of Bright Eyes’ Approximate Sunlight. She pulled up into the parking lot.
“Now you are/ how you were/ when you were/ real.”
Dalton’s shiny black car sat alone in a space, taunting her as her stomach turned around in knots and she tried to lose her mind in her music. She pulled up next to him. He was still in his car, drumming on the dashboard, losing himself in his own music. In the same moment, they looked over at each other, turned their cars off and walked inside. Scarlett waved at Dalton, her lips parting only in a subconscious notion of her thoughts about him.
“Hey, Scarlett.”
“Hello.”
The air felt old, tensely awkward even though they both hated that word.
“Are you doing okay? What’s been going on?”
And that’s where Dalton couldn’t hold himself; he didn’t know how to admit everything to Scarlett, he didn’t know how she would take it. So his gaze met the floor and he said nothing, shrouding himself in the same mystery she knew him by.