Free Coda 02 -A to Z by Marie Sexton

anything. He just stood there, staring at one of the displays. I could tell he was wound up tight. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were tight fists. Finally he said, “This isn’t workin’, Zach.”
    “What isn’t working?”
    He finally looked at me. “This!” He practically spat the word at me, as he gestured around him. “You. Me. This fuckin’ job. I can’t do it anymore.”
    “You’re quitting?” I felt like that was a terribly stupid question, but it was all I could come up with. My head was spinning.
    He hesitated, like maybe he hadn’t really meant to say that and had to decide whether or not to take it back. But then he said, “Yeah. I’m quittin’.”
    “Okay.” It wasn’t okay at all, actually, but I was too stunned to say anything else. I didn’t want him to quit. He was great at the store. The customers loved him. And we were friends. The thought of losing him was more upsetting than I would have expected.
    He stayed there for a minute, looking at me. All the anger was gone now. He just looked sad. He pushed his hair out of his face, shoved his hands in his pockets, and said quietly, “See you ’round, Zach.”
    He was at the door by the time I found my voice. “Angelo, wait!”

    He stopped, halfway out the door but didn’t turn around.
    “I don’t know what’s going on, but I really don’t want you to go. I need you here. And I….” And I’ll miss you like crazy. But I didn’t say that part. “You know this place is going to fall apart without you.” I thought for a second he was going to say something to that, but he didn’t. “If there’s something going on, and you need time off, you can have it.” There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. “Anything you want, Ang.” He still wasn’t looking at me, but I knew he was listening. He was just staring at the ground. “Come back, though, when you can. Please.”
    He stood there for a minute in the door. I waited. I was practically holding my breath.

    And then he just walked away.

…Angelo
    N ORMALLY I get five hours of sleep between the gas station and the video store. Didn’t sleep at all last night, though. Spent all five hours agonizin’ over whether or not to go in today. Don’t even remember makin’ the decision to go. Must have, though, ’cause I find myself walkin’ in the door. Can’t even look at Zach. Don’t want him to be mad. Don’t want him to be all friendly and understandin’ either. Mostly, though, don’t want him to look in my eyes and see I’m so torn up over him that I can’t even fuckin’ think straight.
    “You’re late.” He says it lightly, like it’s a question. Like maybe he doesn’t know for sure. ’Course he’s not mad. Almost wish he was.
    “Yeah. So what?”
“So, nothing. I just wondered if everything’s okay.”
    What can I say? No, man, everything is not okay. Not anymore. Not since last night. Not since I realized how I feel. I know he’ll never be able to love me like I love him. “What the fuck do you care, Zach?” I see that he’s confused and a little bit hurt, and I’m glad.
    “What’s wrong, Ang?” Why’s he gotta be so nice about it? Make this all so much easier if he would just be a dick back to me. This part, though, I thought out already. Turned the words over and over in my head last night. “This isn’t workin’, Zach.” “What isn’t working?”
    “This!” And when I turn to look at him, the hurt expression on his face is almost more than I can stand. “You. Me. This fuckin’ job. I can’t do it anymore.”
    “You’re quitting?”
    Yeah, I thought about those words all night. Thing is, I never really intended to say them. Can’t take ’em back now, though. And maybe it’s for the best. He’s still watchin’ me, lookin’ like he’s just been sucker-punched, which I guess isn’t too far off. “Yeah. I’m quittin’.”
    “Okay.” I know his simple answer isn’t ’cause he doesn’t care. I know he’s still