Finally, it’s done. I sigh as I hit print and wait for the pages to start flowing. This has to be the hardest Sunday of my life. I pop two more Tylenol and wash them down with the remaining two-hour cold coffee in my cup. It is seven o’clock and I’m finally finished with my paper. I will never go out drinking again when I have a paper due. I could have easily blown my grade point average.

Last night was awful. After having way too many drinks, I crashed at Josh’s. I woke up at around noon in a panic when I realized my day was half over, and I raced back home. On the way, I grabbed a large coffee and a pack of Tylenol, which became my breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the day.

Tying one on last night wasn’t my only regret. I was a complete jerk to Jackie last night and I have no clue why. Her friends wasted no time after she left to come over and bawl me out for hurting her feelings and making her cry. They quickly left, leaving my buddies blaming me for the ruined evening. All I could think about after the other girls left were the words … you made her cry.

What the fuck did I say? I think I remember what I said to her. I wasn’t that drunk. I remember coming on to her. I remember calling her a brat after she started lecturing me on drinking too much. What could I have possibly said to make her cry? It’s been bothering me all day long.

Should I call her and apologize? What would I say? Why even worry about it? I don’t have her number and there is no way I’m calling Julie and asking for it. Maybe it’s just better if I leave it—and her—alone.

But Julie isn’t the only one who has her number. I could ask Holly, Jackie’s sister. We exchanged phone numbers when Julie and I were seeing each other. Maybe Jackie hasn’t said anything to her yet. I just want to apologize. The thought that she left the club crying is unsettling. I decide to go ahead and send Holly a quick text.

I wait for a few minutes, and finally I hear my phone chime.

I should have known she would throw something in about Julie’s wedding. I got what I needed, so I keep it short and sweet.

I have her number now, so what the hell am I going to say? Should I text? No, that’s too impersonal. She was nice to you, dumbass. You owe her an apology over the phone, not a chicken shit text.

I bite the bullet and punch in her number, listening to it ring. After the third ring, I’m expecting it to go to her voice mail. I’m sure she doesn’t recognize the number, so I will need to leave a message. What the hell am I going to say?

“Hello, Tyler,” she answers, shocking me.

“Uh, hi. How did you know it was me? Did you have my number?”

“No, I’m not the stalker you seem to remember me as. Holly texted me and asked if it was okay to give you my number.”

“Oh.” I pause, wondering why she felt the need to mention that I thought of her as a stalker. Did I say that last night? Maybe I don’t remember everything, after all.

“What do you want, Tyler? I’m really busy right now.”

“I’m sorry, did you finish your essay?” I quickly ask her before talking about last night. Maybe tonight is not a good time.

“Just barely. How about you?” she asks, surprising me that she hasn’t hung up on my ass.

“Printing it as we speak.”

“That’s good,” she chimes, sounding a little more cheerful than when she first answered.

I hesitate to say anything further. This girl has me on edge. Why? All I keep hearing is her friends saying, you made her cry.

“Hello? Are you still there?” she asks.

“Yes, I’m still here,” I reply.

“Is that the only reason you called? Holly said you needed something for class tomorrow?” she asks, once again sounding irritated.

“Look, Jackie, I want to apologize for last night.”

“Oh,” is all she says and then is silent for a moment before speaking again. “What got into you?” she asks.

“Too many Coronas,” I try to joke.

“That’s for sure,” she responds, giving me a little chuckle.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a rough week and I shouldn’t have been out in the first place, and most of all, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Apology accepted and I want to apologize for the things I said too,” she adds.

“I guess I was a lousy date,” I joke, before realizing what I just said. Did I consider last night a date? Too late to take it back now.

“Were we on a date?” She laughs.

“Well, no, but we were hanging as friends. I could have been nicer and tried to have a good time.”

“I agree,” she says quietly.

“Could I have a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to. I accept your apology. I’m not mad at you. I know it was the beers talking.”

“I would really like to. It’s after seven, have you had dinner yet? Maybe we could go grab a quick bite. My treat.” I feel like it’s the least I can do for causing her to leave upset last night.

“No, I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Good, it’s settled. Whatcha in the mood for? Burgers? Tacos? Fried Chicken? Pizza?”

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

“The diner is good. Mel makes awesome cheeseburgers. Do you need me to pick you up? Or do you want to meet there?”

“I’ll meet you there. What time?”

“I can be there by eight. Does that work?”

“Sure, eight o’clock is fine.”

“Great. I’ll see you in a few then.”

She hangs up without another word, making me wonder, are we good? Hopefully, she will show up and we can talk. Maybe she will clue me in on what I said last night that upset her so much. It really bothers me that I upset her last night to the point that she left crying.

I grab a quick shower and head to the diner. I haven’t been here for a while, and memories of Julie working here go through my mind. I find an empty booth in the back, so Jackie and I can have some privacy as I wait for her to arrive. Checking my phone, it is 8:01 pm. I look around the room but she is nowhere in sight.

The waitress brings me some ice water and menus and I let her know that I am waiting for someone. Another check at the time shows it’s 8:05 pm. Still no sign of her. I really don’t know her all that well. Maybe she is one of those girls that takes forever getting ready. Any minute, I bet I will get a text saying she is running late.

I don’t mind waiting, especially if she looks as good as she did last night. It’s weird to have known her all these years and yet I feel like I just met her. It has to be exhaustion from working at my dad’s shop and school. I need a fucking break. I close my eyes for just a second, when I hear my text message alert. Smiling, I grab my phone, expecting to see a text about how she’s running late, just as I expected.

I stare at my phone, not knowing how to respond. Memories of Julie turning me down but apologizing run through my mind. What the hell is wrong with me for picking all the wrong women?

Fuck this shit. I need a fucking breaking before I leave for university—a break from the books, a break from Julie, a break from Jackie, a break from anything resembling a relationship. Who needs it?

Instead of answering Jackie’s text, I send my buddy Josh a text instead.

It’s graduation day, and for the third time in my life, I’m dressed in a cap and gown. The first time was in kindergarten with my dad and mom smiling and waving and taking pictures. The second was in high school with just my dad looking disappointed as I was wheeled to the stand to get my diploma. Today, the old man is nowhere in sight. Just as well, he probably has some excuse as he always does.

I look around the college football field and see the bleachers filling with the other graduates’ families. I’m sure one section of the bleachers is filled with the Winston family here to see Jackie graduate. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since the other night, when she stood me up.

I decided to leave it alone. I did my part and apologized to her. Obviously, after whatever I said to her that night that I don’t remember, she doesn’t want anything more to do with me. My track record with women as of late is falling short. Trying to be the nice guy is getting me nowhere.

Well, I did it, I suppose, but when my name is called, the silence is almost deafening. Suddenly, the sound of whistling and cheering comes from behind me. Jackie, the bright ray of sunshine applauding my accomplishment, moves me.

I figured we were back to her hating my guts again, but I guess I was wrong. Or is she just taking pity on me? I smile, deciding to hope for the best, and continue walking the stage and following the others. I make it back to my seat by the time they announce her name and the audience erupts into cheers. Just as I thought, I look up in the stands and see a whole section just for her family alone.

After the ceremony, I look for her in the crowd of families gathering to give their congratulations. I stand back and watch as she receives many hugs from her family and friends. I ache to join them, but instead, turn back and head home.

I no sooner walk into the house and the old man is balling me out. “You got your piece of paper, now it’s time to get to work,” he says, standing in the kitchen—barely standing, that is. From the looks of the half empty Jack Daniel’s whiskey bottle sitting on the counter, he is once again drunk as hell.

“Dad, I told you the other day. I’m done. I’m going to work at the beach this summer and then I have a job set up in the fall near the university. By the way, thanks for showing up today. I really appreciate the support,” I add.

“Well, one of us has to earn some money around here,” he shoots back.

“I do my share,” I say, trying so hard to remember that he’s my father.

“Yeah, right. You think you’re so damn special with your little diploma. That diploma doesn’t mean shit. You’re twenty-four and I’m still supporting your ass.”

“I’ll tell you what, as of tonight, you no longer have to worry about supporting me,” I say as I head to my room to avoid either punching him or the wall.

“About time,” he shouts back as I leave the room.

After a couple of trips to my truck, I pack as much stuff as I will need for the summer. The old man is now sitting in his recliner, watching some western and looking like he is on the verge of passing out.

“I’ll come back in a few weeks to get the rest of my stuff,” I say, hoping we can leave on better terms.

“Fine,” the old man grunts.

“Dad.” I try one more time to get him to look at me.

“Just get the hell out of here,” he yells.

I don’t say another word as I grab my last bag and step outside, slamming the door.

Before I head to the beach, I drive to the high school stadium parking lot. Sitting up on the hood of my truck, I reminisce about those years ago when I was a somebody. I still hear the cheers when I made my touchdowns, with the old man cheering the loudest. Was that all I was to him?