Panic and Fear, Dilly Dilly

I had basically given up. I had done everything I could besides tracking Max down in person and saying sorry. I felt at peace, knowing I had done what I could. I knew that somehow, it would all work out for the best.

I fell into a rhythm. Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep, repeat. I knew what was going to happen every day, and I knew what to expect.

One day I saw Max in the local paper. He had won state swim! Go Max.

At first I worried that Max would come eat lunch at the pizza place I worked at, but after 6 months, I stopped worrying.

Until one day, he suddenly was there.

I started shaking. I couldn't do the simplest of jobs, let alone work register. I started making pizzas, like a good employee, but I couldn't breathe. I knew he wasn't there to talk to me. He was there with his whole big group of cronies, and they sat right next to where I was working.

Because of course.

I kept going, trying to do my job. I don't think I took a real breath until he left the restaurant. They never acknowledged my existence. It was like I was a stone wall. It's not like I was the bestest of friends with any of them, but I knew some of them! They could have at least said hi!

Needless to say, that encounter left a bad taste in my mouth.

After that, I thought I was safe. He had come, he didn't seem all that excited at the food, I was good. I was okay. He wouldn't be back. I wouldn't have to do that again.

A few weeks later, his whole friend group shows up again. But this time I caught eye contact with Max as he was waiting in line.

"Rosemary! How are you going?"

"I'm doing good."

"So you're just working?"

"Yep," I said.

I had to do work then, so the conversation was cut short. I was kinda glad. It's kinda awkward to shout across the restaurant.

They sat down right next to me again. I managed to get through the shaking, and even breathed a few times.

Finally they left.

I thought, surely this can't happen again.

They started coming in every week.

Last Wednesday I was just existing when he walked in the door again. My coworker couldn't take the register, so I had to take over. I rung up one man, then went to go get his sauce. Max was next in line. My coworker thankfully took over for me.

I felt brave though.

I made eye contact with Max.

"So you guys are just coming in every week now?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"We converted ya."

Then I smiled and walked away.

And died inside.

I know this is happening for a reason. It feels like something out of a soap opera. Nothing like this happens in real life. Except it is. And I don't know how to handle it.

I need to say sorry. And it has to happen before life pulls us apart for good.