Cast Back into the Crowd

While I was waiting at a red light, my phone buzzed with a call from my best friend, Olive Sampson.

She started cautiously, "I heard he's back in town."

I cut her off flatly. "That has nothing to do with me."

She let out a deep sigh, her tone laced with clear frustration. "You know how small this world can be. People run into each other all the time. You're likely to cross paths eventually, and when that happens..."

"Not a chance," I cut in again. "He's out of my life for good."

I ended the call, but shortly after, my phone notified me of a message from our college class president, Adele Kinney.

She inquired whether I planned to attend this year's reunion and included a thoughtful note: [If you decide to skip it, I'm totally on board. Everyone gets your situation.]

Then she threw in some heartfelt words of comfort. As I gazed at the lengthy text on my screen, I found it strangely entertaining.

I had already moved past the ordeal, yet those around me seemed unable to let it go. Perhaps the intensity of the drama from back then had left such a lasting impression on them.

In truth, I had released all of it. These days, I even needed to concentrate to recall what Marcello Golden even looked like.

Once, he had been the center of my world—my deepest love and someone closer to me than family. We were childhood sweethearts who had shared every stage of life: the same elementary school, middle school, high school, and college, followed by studying abroad together.

My phone alarm went off, pulling me from my reverie. Right now, I had more important things to do. I parked at the base of a mountain and grabbed the bags I'd prepared, heading up to the chapel.

A young attendant spotted me and approached with a warm smile. "Ms. Lopez, you're here again."

I handed him some of the holiday items, and as he accepted them, curiosity lit up his eyes. "You've visited at this precise time every year for the past five years, without fail. May I ask why?"

I offered a smile but provided no answer, proceeding directly to the rear courtyard where a perpetually locked meditation room stood. I unlocked the door to reveal a sparse interior, featuring only a table that held a solitary memorial plaque.

I began unpacking the bags, arranging the contents on the table one by one while murmuring to myself, "The clerk at the toy store mentioned these are the most popular toys this year. I'm not sure if Ultraman is trending where you are, but I picked up several varieties just in case. And this blind box? They say it has a chance of containing a rare collectible. You'd love that."

After placing the toys, I set out an assortment of snacks. "You probably don't need to worry about brushing your teeth over there, right? So, feel free to indulge in chocolate right before bed without fearing cavities."

I chuckled at the thought, but soon tears began to stream down my face. With great care, I wiped the plaque that bore the name of my son, Jacob Golden.

Below it was my name, but the father's name was left blank.