Ethan's POV
The restaurant I met James was sparsely filled, a cozy environment filled with light bulbs hung up in wooden bulb holders. He arrived before me and sat up in a corner booth with very little lightening which was perfect for the conversation I intended to have with him. He drank from a bottle of beer as I strolled in and his eyes lit up when they met mine. With a smile grazing his lips, he stood up to me, "hey man! It's good to see you!" He hugged me tight and slapped my back in the usual bro hug pattern. "It's so good to see you too!" I'd sincerely missed my best friend, this accident had wedged a block between us and it actively felt like he was running from me too.
We did our time exchanging small talk, and taking sips from our beers. He asked about my parents, I asked about his; funnily enough he didn't ask about my girlfriend knowing that's a very touchy subject for me. As a loll in conversation ensued, I brought up what was on my mind, "James?" I started, wearily, as if sending where the conversation is headed he replied,"yes Ethan?"
"Something's missing, and I can't shake the feeling that I need to figure it out. You've known me the longest, James. I thought maybe you could help me fill in some of the blanks." I replied him. There was a pause, followed by him refusing to meet my eyes, "Ethan, we've talked about this before. You're doing great, okay? You've built an amazing career. Maybe it's time to let the past go and focus on what's in front of you." I frowned, my grip tightening on the beer bottle. "That's easy for you to say. You're not the one walking around feeling like half a person. Don't you think I deserve to know the truth?"
James's voice was gentle but firm. "The truth won't change anything, Ethan. What happened… it's in the past. Digging it up won't do you any good. You've got a good thing going now—don't mess it up chasing shadows." Ethan's frustration bubbled over. "You're supposed to be my best friend, James. I came to you because I thought you'd understand, that you'd want to help me. Instead, you're telling me to forget about it? Whose side are you on?" "I'm on your side, Ethan," James replied, his tone weary. "And that's why I'm telling you this. Sometimes the best thing you can do is move forward. Trust me—it's what's best for everyone."
I wasn't ready to let the conversation end. "James, can I ask you something else?" he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. "Sure," James replied cautiously. "Was I… in a relationship? Before the accident?" Ethan's heart pounded as he asked the question that had haunted him for weeks. "Because something feels off, especially with Anita. She says we're dating, but I don't feel it. There's no spark, no connection. It's like I'm playing a role I don't remember auditioning for." I bring up the girlfriend he refused to bring up. There was silence on the other end of the seat, heavy and suffocating. James eventually broke it, his tone measured. "Ethan, Anita's been there for you since the accident. She's tried her best to support you and help you move on. Maybe you're just overthinking it." "Overthinking!?" Ethan repeated, his frustration mounting. "James, I feel like a stranger in my own life! If Anita and I are supposed to be together, why does it feel so… wrong? Like I'm pretending to care when I don't." James sighed again, the sound laced with weariness. "Look, Ethan, some things are better left alone. You've got a lot going for you right now—don't jeopardize it by chasing ghosts. Just give it time. Maybe things with Anita will start to feel natural again." He quipped.
Ethan's jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. "You're not answering my question. Were we in a relationship, James? Before the accident?" James hesitated, then said quietly, "No, Ethan. You weren't." The answer hit him like a punch to the gut. "Then why does everything feel so forced now? Why do I feel like something important is missing, like I've lost someone I can't even remember?" James's voice turned distant. "I don't know, Ethan. Maybe it's just the trauma playing tricks on you. You're doing great—just focus on that." Ethan's anger and confusion bubbled over. "I don't understand you, James. You're supposed to be the one person I can count on, but all you're doing is giving me excuses." "I'm sorry, Ethan," James said softly. "I'm only trying to help." "Help?" Ethan let out a bitter laugh. "You're not helping. You're just avoiding the truth."
We both went quiet again, and before I could say more, James sighed heavily. "I have an early meeting tomorrow, Ethan. I have to go, see you soon." And just like that, the conversation ended, leaving me staring into my folded hands in utter agony. "I wonder whose friend you really are," I muttered to James' retreating back I leaned back against the seat, my thoughts a storm of anger, confusion, and disappointment. James's reluctance to help only deepened the sense of betrayal I felt. If my own best friend wouldn't give me answers, then who would?
As I walked home, since the journey to my apartment wasn't so far from where I met James, I was so deep in thought, until I saw a man walking past me, dragging his hands through the strands of his girl, with chocolate brown strands of hair flying around her face; just then I was hit with a brain numbing headache, as I remembered running my fingers through the same shade of hair color! I remembered something! But Anita was blonde, so who had chocolate brown hair? In my vision, as I ran my fingers through her hair, she laughed and turned to look at me but I never saw a face. I tried so hard to stay in the moment and get to see her face but the pain of the headache were like a thousand needles getting pushed into my head, I doubled over in pain, my eyes stinging and then collapsed on the road.