BackWash (Editing & Completed)

Chapter 6: Let Go

Chapter 6: Let Go

I keep scrubbing with the yellow sponge in hand, trying to get rid of all the stains imprinted onto the table surface, my hands red.

"I think it's clean now, Princess."

I drop the soaked sponge back into the bucket of soapy water beneath the table, glancing up at my co-worker, Kyle. He looks tired from the day's events as well. It has been a busy day. The diner was just about full and as waiters, we were stuck taking orders all day.

"I'd ask if you want some table with all that soap but uh..." He trails off teasingly, implying that I'd over washed this one specific table. I don't bother to crack a smile, frustrated.

"What's up with you today? You're more grumpy than usual." Kyle states as he runs a hand through his ginger hair, unaware of my past or what had happened to my best friend in the last few weeks since the accident.

I shrug, my usual habit - safety mechanism - when I didn't feel like answering. But still, Kyle doesn't seem too bummed about my silence. He expects no more than just a shrug.

I ignore his stare as he inspects me thoroughly, burning holes into the side of my head. I grab the bucket and head to the back room, ready to lock up, go home, sleep, and hopefully never wake up.

But Kyle follows after me once the table he'd been working on had been rinsed from the soap.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that something is up." He pauses hesitantly before coming out with it, "What's going on?" Kyle asks as he comes to stand beside me, his green eyes never leaving that of my own.

"Nothing," I mumble, averting my eyes from his green ones that tend to plague me. His eyes are nothing but a cold reminder of everything I've lost. His shade of green reminds me of Brent's emerald eyes. It bugs me more so than I'd like to admit.

I wouldn't classify Kyle as a friend. We're acquaintances who happen to work together. That's it. But still, it doesn't stop Kyle from trying to befriend me. He never quite catches the hint - him being that typical 'laid back' person that fazes for absolutely nothing being the sole reason.

Insults don't get to him.

"Liar," he retorts, not believing me. "What's up? You can tell me."

Why would I? We're not even friends. My only friend is dead.

But Kyle's right. There is something bugging me. I'm transparent when I'm upset or distraught over something.

Three weeks ago, I was on the beach just after Brent passed. I had his ring in my hand. But then stupid Chase came and I hid the ring. He distracted me so that when I went home afterward, I realized that I'd left the ring somewhere in the sand.

I ran back to retrieve it, searching hopelessly through the sand, unable to find it.

The last thing Brent gave me -- gone, never to be found again.

It feels like the proposal never happened, like it vanished with the ring. There's no proof that he ever asked me to be with him.

The ring got swept in with the tide, I'm sure of it. It's joined the sea, the expanse of blue...where maybe it should stay. I have no other use for it in any case, not without Brent.

I sigh aloud. "Kyle. Just leave it," I order harshly. "I'd like to go home, so can we just finish packing up without all the small talk please?" I beg, needing to get outside so that I can breathe again.

I'm suffocating inside here.

Kyle must see my anguish; he drops the subject. "You go home. I got the keys. I'll just finish up here and then lock for the boss." I shake my head, protesting. It wouldn't be fair. "Gabriela, just go home. You need this," he insists as he gives me a little push toward the exit.