Chapter 12 - The First Thing I Remembered Was Her Stealing My Breakfast
I did not call anyone for an hour.
That was intentional.
No Walter.
No Marcus.
No Mom.
I sat at Table Seven and tried not to chase the memory.
Burnt cinnamon.
Toast.
A hand.
Maya laughing.
That was all.
Calvin came over.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
He looked unconvinced.
“I remembered something.”
His face changed.
I put up a hand.
“Don't ask what.”
He nodded immediately.
Then:
“Coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Still bad?”
“Terrible.”
He smiled and walked away.
I called my mother first.
Not because she deserved first access.
Because I wanted to test whether I could tell someone without letting their reaction become part of it.
“I remembered Maya stealing toast.”
Silence.
Then my mother laughed.
A real laugh.
“Oh, she did that constantly.”
The memory stayed mine.
Her confirmation came after.
That mattered.
“Was there cinnamon?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You ordered cinnamon toast when you were hungover.”
“I don't drink much.”
“You did at twenty-four.”
Unhelpful ancestral information.
I smiled despite myself.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Why didn't you tell me small things?”
She went quiet.
“I thought small things would lead to big ones.”
“Maybe.”
“I was afraid.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“Are you angry?”
“Yes.”
“Still?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
No defense.
I ended the call.
Marcus came by that afternoon because I had a flight out the next morning.
We walked outside the café.
“You remembered?”
“Who told you?”
“Dana.”
I stopped.
Of course.
Marcus saw my face.
“She called about something else and mentioned it.”
“Still.”
“Yes.”
He accepted the correction.
“What was it?”
I didn't answer.
He caught himself.
“Sorry.”
We walked farther.
“Why did Maya leave Danner?”
I asked.
“Officially?”
“No.”
Marcus thought.
“She wanted a fresh start.”
“From you.”
“Partly.”
“Walter.”
“Partly.”
“Me?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Maybe.”
“Why maybe?”
“She never told me.”
“Then don't guess.”
He nodded.
I looked toward the base fence.
“Did I want her to stay?”
“Yes.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“You were afraid your friendship wouldn't survive distance.”
I laughed quietly.
There it was again.
People turning love into proximity.
Walter.
Me.
Maybe Maya had been surrounded by people who wanted her decision to prove something about them.
“Did I pressure her?”
“Not like I did.”
“That isn't the standard.”
Marcus looked at me.
“Yes.”
He thought.
“You volunteered for the same transfer location.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“When Maya got orders, you submitted a preference request for the same region.”
“Did she know?”
“Yes.”
“What did she think?”
“She was angry.”
“Why?”
“She said you were following her without asking.”
I stared.
That sounded painfully plausible.
“What did I say?”
“You said you were allowed to want the same posting.”
“Were we fighting when she died?”
Marcus took a long time.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“You had apologized.”
The message.
I’m sorry I made it mine.
“Did she accept?”
“I don't know.”
Good answer.
We stopped beside my rental car.
Marcus said:
“The last time I saw you together, she threw your car keys at you.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“About an hour before the crash.”
“Why?”
“She had planned to drive.”
“But she didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Marcus shrugged.
“I assumed she'd been drinking.”
“That night?”
“One beer, maybe.”
“Did I drive?”
“No. You called a rideshare.”
Responsible.
Boring.
Tragic anyway.
“What did she say when she threw the keys?”
Marcus looked at me.
“I don't remember exactly.”
“Try.”
“She said something like, ‘Fine, you make one good decision tonight.’”
I almost smiled.
That sounded like a person.
Not a memorial.
Not an advance directive.
A friend still annoyed after an argument.
Alive enough to be petty.
That hurt more cleanly.
Marcus looked at me.
“There’s something else.”
I sighed.
“Of course.”
“Your transfer request.”
“I read it.”
“Not the short form.”
I turned.
“There’s a dictated statement attached.”
My stomach tightened.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
He looked away.
May you like
“Because it mentions me.”
At least he had finally stopped pretending otherwise.
