Just Friends

It's just brunch

Rogelio's was a small, country-themed café on a busy street corner. Buses screeched past and pedestrians filtered along the adjacent sidewalks. Plaid curtains hung in the windows and small, wooden booths lined the interior perimeter, while tables with brightly tiled tops occupied the center floorspace. The walls were painted a muted taupe with olive green trim. The smells of bacon and fresh coffee hit me as we walked in, and my mouth watered.

Ian ushered us over to a corner booth in the back near the restrooms. Our server's name was Yolanda, a tall woman with teased black hair and lots of eye makeup. I settled in across from Ian and browsed the menus Yolanda had left for us. When I looked up, Ian was watching me again.

"I feel like we've met before," I told him. I couldn't be sure- I certainly didn't recall any Ians from my past life- but something about him seemed altogether familiar. Like the first notes of a song you've heard a thousand times.

"I was thinking the same," he said. "Did you attend Southerland High?"

I shook my head. Madison and I went to Newbrook Springs.

"You said Madi was friends with your brother," I reminded him. "Maybe we met through them?"

Instantly, Ian's expression shifted into something dark and brooding. What was it about the acquaintance between my cousin and his younger brother that made him so wary?

"Doubtful," he said, studying his menu a little too closely. "They dated back in 2002. You'd move to Sacramento by then."

I sat up a little straighter.

"How did you know that?"

Ian flushed.

"Madison mentioned it. She said you two were very close before she left home. You moved away shortly after she did."

I pursed my lips and refolded the cloth napkin in front of me.

"Madison didn't really move away- she ran away from home. From all of us."

I didn't intend to let that last part slip out, but what Madison had done was hurtful, even still. I understood why she'd left home- her uncle was still abusing her, though she refused to talk about it after she'd reported it the first time. Her mother fussed over her brother John and ignored her own daughter, and Madi's father had left them both when she was three. What I didn't understand was why when Madi left, she'd left me, too.

"I think I'll have the breakfast skillet," I said.

Ian nodded, rolling with the change of subject.

"The steak and eggs look good," he added.

We chatted about our respective jobs while we ate. Ian worked for an antiques dealer downtown, and his brother, Danny, worked as a mechanic at an auto repair shop. I told him about my job as a veterinary technician, and how I'd come to work with animals after college. Neither of us spoke of Madi again, or the memorial service where I'd fainted. Ian kept his knowledge of her dealings with Danny a closely guarded secret, and I didn't tell him that Madi wasn't dead at all.