Free Sick Day by Morgan Parker

out. “Stop it, or I’m walking away. And this time I won’t show up to apologize.”
    I hold my hands up in defeat, letting out a long breath. “Please don’t. This isn’t supposed to be like this, Hope.”
    “Then what’s it supposed to be, Cameron?”
    I stare at the table for what feels like an eternity. Where’s the fucking tea already? When I look up to Hope’s hardened face, I see that maybe it—this—really is over. That seems to be the trend for me these days.
    “What’s it supposed to be?” she asks again, tapping her foot on the floor.
    I take a big gulp of air, building up courage. Fast. “Three years ago, I fucked up. I fucked up when I didn’t come after you.”
    “We’re not talking about three years ago, Cameron. We’re talking about now. About what now is supposed to be like at this fancy little dining space you’ve rented for me.”
    “For us,” I correct her.
    “Semantics.” She softens a little. “So what’s it supposed to be like now?”
    Hope’s tea arrives, affording me a bit of time to refocus my energy, to think of something brilliant to say because she’s truly not seeing the importance of our breakfast here. I watch her pour a packet of fake sugar and 2% milk into her tea, stirring it with a hand that trembles just enough for me to notice.
    When she brings her attention back to me before lifting the steaming cup to her lips, I tell her what now is supposed to be like. “It’s supposed to be like we promised it would. Before we even left for college.”
    “But those days are gone and dead, Cameron,” she sighs. “Just like three years ago, just like two months ago. It can never be like that, like we promised. So now what are you left with?”
    Easy. I tap the table once to hammer my point home. “This moment. And if you think I’m going to let go of this moment ever again, you’re wrong. I’m never letting go. I’m never letting go of you, Hope.”
    With that promise, her eyes turn into the magic of shooting stars, but it doesn’t last long because the waitress returns, this time with our breakfast.
    The promise of never letting go isn’t wasted, though. It lingers between us, and I know she’ll think about it for the rest of our day together. Maybe even the rest of her life if she doesn’t tell Matt she’s leaving him.
     
    } i {

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Three Years Ago
     

Chapter 18
     
    W hile I set the dinner table, I came face-to-face with an interesting paradox. I had made two promises—one to the woman who was singing in the shower upstairs, after a long week of being underpaid and abused by arrogant white-collar mind-rapists; the other to the woman who stood outside my townhouse in the rain, watching me from the shadows of the neighbor’s minivan. But keeping one of them meant breaking the other.
    How bizarre , I thought, noticing her pale face in the darkness. I stepped away from the table-setting to see if I had hallucinated the sight of Hope McManus after all of these years. How bizarre that keeping one promise meant breaking another, and here was one of those promises standing outside the home I owned with my fiancée.
    “Holy shit,” I breathed, staring out the large window and straight into Hope’s eyes. I raised a hand to her, almost like a wave, but she only stared back at me. Because of the rain, I couldn’t tell if she was crying or angry or a freaking ghost, really.
    “Cam!” Riley called from upstairs.
    “What?” I yelled back, but I refused to pull my eyes from the sight of Hope, my Hope .
    “Do we have time for a quickie? What’s left on the timer?”
    Shit. A quickie with Hope standing outside?
    “No!” I said.
    “Okay, I’ll be right down,” Riley promised. “It smells amazing!”
    Fuck, even worse.
    “Wait, wait!” I shouted back. “I’ll be right up.”
    I didn’t know if there was twenty minutes or twenty seconds left on the timer for whatever it was I had placed in the oven. All I knew