Broken Carts ✔️

Aisle 23: Lights

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Ezra and Lynette talking in her room. "It wasn't real, was it?" Lynette murmured. "Like, I was dumb for thinking it was ever a real relationship."

"It was real enough to make you feel this way," Ezra pointed out.

"Yeah, but... I was never hers, y'know? Not really."

Ezra sighed. "I don't get the obsession with belonging to someone. Are you saying you're sad you were never her official girlfriend?"

"No, no. I don't care about labels," Lynette refuted. "I just wanted to be her top priority. I mean, she was my top priority, every goddamn time... and I'm realizing that feeling wasn't mutual." She sniffled. "So that's why it wasn't real. Not real enough."

Lynette's bed creaked, signaling that Ezra had laid down next to her. Her sniffling intensified. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "That's always a shitty feeling."

"I don't get it," Lynette sniveled. "Why is it so hard for me to find someone who cares? Why can't it be easy, like it was for you guys?"

I cringed into my pillow. Ezra took a second to answer. "It's not easy for..." He stopped short. Probably to avoid saying the word "us." "No relationship comes easily."

Lynette groaned. "But why?"

"Because everyone's selfish," Ezra explained in an even tone. "Everyone's looking out for their own interests in the end, even if they try to convince themselves they're not. It's not a malicious thing, I think it's just humanity's default setting."

"Jesus," Lynette said, slight amusement coming through in her voice. "Remind me not to date you."

"If I ever catch you falling for my charms, I'll make sure to stop you before it's too late."

I fell back asleep. When I woke up in the afternoon, Ezra was just getting back from somewhere and heading into the bathroom. A minute later, there was a knock on the front door. I hesitated until Ezra called out, "get it, Milo."

I opened the door on a short, middle-aged man with magnificently droopy eye bags and a golf hat on his head. He held a book in his hand and looked confused at the sight of me, but tried to smile anyway. "Hi. I have something for Ezra."

"Uh, who... are you?"

"I'm his dad."

Things suddenly felt very awkward. "Oh! Sorry! Nice to meet you." Despite not having introduced myself, I held out my hand. He cautiously shook it. "Do you want to come in—"

The bathroom door clattered open. A disheveled Ezra pushed past me and I slunk back into the apartment. "Did I forget something at lunch?" Ezra asked.

His dad held the book out. "Nope. Just forgot to give this to you when we parted ways."

"Oh," said Ezra unenthusiastically. "Thanks."

"Let me know if there's anything fun in there. See you next week. Same place?"

"Yupp." Once Ezra had closed the door, he let out a long sigh.

"So... things are going well with you two? Like, well enough to meet up for lunch every week?" I asked.

"It's not going to be every week," he muttered.

"Right," I said. "You know, you don't really look like him."

"Good." Ezra peered down at the large, pastel-yellow book in his hands, studying the cover for a few wordless moments; then he dropped it on the coffee table and went to his room. Of course, Ezra, I'll take a look at the mysterious book, I thought as I grabbed it. No need to use words to communicate your feelings. Feelings are silly anyway.