Between Then & Now || Currently Editing for Wattys 2022

7.

The hall is crowded following the commencement. People stand in crowds scattered across the floor, moving from group to group, congratulating each other. Normally, this might have been when Tessa would have come by and taken a picture with me. When Michael and I would've taken those graduation photos I always pictured us taking.

But it's just me, Ma, and the rest of my family. Except Grandpa. And my father.

"We are so, so proud of you." My mom's arms are warm as she wraps me up in a hug. I hug her back, my graduation gown hanging on my right arm. Her hand rubs soft circles on my back, and, when she pulls away, my nose catches a whiff of incense and patchouli. "I hope you know that."

I smile at her and turn to the rest of my family, my left arm still wrapped around her back, and she stands next to me, hip to hip. "I know."

"You're still turning into an old woman, though." Connor cracks a grin, trying to get a reaction out of me. But my grandma beats me to it.

"Then what the hell does that make me?" Babcia throws her hands up, and everyone groans in unison at the overused joke. Around us, the rest of the hall begins to quiet down, people starting to leave.

Almost on cue, Kai turns to my mom, nodding their head toward the door. "Think it's time we bring this baby home? I've heard there's food waiting."

"Ah, hell, yes." Connor fist-pumps the air.

"Connor." Aunt Rivers snaps.

"Mom, I'm eighteen years old." He whines as we begin to walk towards the exit. The two bicker back and forth about his language on our way out, and my mom turns to me, eyebrows furrowed a bit.

"Do you want us to go ahead?" Her eyes bounce back to the crowd in the rest of the hall then

back to mine. It's nearly as though she reads my mind and I nod subtly, almost embarrassed to admit that I want to actually do what she is thinking I want to. But she just smiles and nods. "Okay."

On her way out, following behind Aunt Rivers, Sarah, Connor and Babcia, she takes Kai's hand, leaning into them a little bit as they walk away. She shoots a soft, encouraging look over her shoulder, communicating with her eyes that she'll see me at home. I smile back at her, crossing my arms and shifting a bit before looking around.

I can't help but hope that maybe he'll come up to me. Maybe apologize, maybe be accountable, maybe just say something. So, I move by the exit, a little off to the side but still near enough to the center to be noticed if someone were to be looking. I fiddle with the graduation gown draped over my arm, tuck a strand of hair out my face. I wait. And I wait, hoping that maybe he would emerge from the crowd like in a shoddy 2000s coming-of-age film.

And I wait.

And I wait.

A few people begin to leave. I click a few more random buttons on my phone, not wanting to look out of place, not wanting to look awkward. But I know that it's useless. If he wanted to find me, he would have done it by now. Hell, if he at all cared how I felt, he would have said something by now.

And, besides, why the hell am I the one wanting validation?

I let out a defeated, soft sigh, shifting the gown in my arms, and walk out the exit, pulling my keys out of the pocket of my dress. They jingle, jingle, jingle as I walk through the parking lot to my car, yanking the door open and practically chucking the black graduation gown in the backseat, right next to my bag of shit which still sits there from nearly a week ago.

And, just as I'm about to get in the driver's seat, I see him standing near his black Jeep Rango a few cars away.

Right next to Tessa.

Something he says makes her throw her head back, laughing rather aggressively. I don't know what it could have possibly been–he was never very funny. She smiles up at him, squinting her eyes in the sunlight, index finger hooking a strand of perfectly styled blonde hair from in her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her flawless straight, white teeth nearly shine as she talks to him. And I suddenly understand.

Why, after even three years, the perfect boy would end up choosing the perfect girl before the dorky film major.

I pull away, blinking a few tears out of my eyes. Who was I kidding? I yank open my car door, scrambling to get in the driver's seat before either of them spot me. For a moment, I just stare blankly ahead at the car in front of me, blindly scanning the Nevada license plate. A few years ago, I watched a comedy skit about how men supposedly have a "nothing box" they go to occasionally, where they quite literally think of nothing. I've never understood it–the human brain is wired to be constantly absorbing information. But I understand it now.

Because, for a few minutes, that's where I go. I just sit there, in the driver's seat of my 2009 Honda Accord, my grandpa's hummingbird charm hanging from the rearview mirror, the heat of the sun turning my car into an oven, my ex-boyfriend just yards away, flirting with my ex-best friend, the same person he cheated on me with just over a week ago and hasn't even apologized for.

And I think

of absolutely

nothing.

Then, a van driving down the parking lot breaks my laser stare at the license plate in front of me.

A large, tall white van with dark windows. A van with tie-dye bumper stickers on the back windows and a string of beads hanging from the rearview mirror.

And I rush to grab my phone, picturing a very specific ad with a very specific phone number.