The Equation

Short Story

Note: Not suitable for younger children.

Cameron Everett hasn’t seen his high-school girlfriend for twelve years when they meet in the queue of a cafe. But both of them have followed very different paths since, and this meeting isn’t an accident. If he can’t convince her that his is the right way, Cameron may not walk away from this.

The Equation

“Oh. My. God!”

I’m standing in the Fire House Café, ordering a pot of tea — Sencha, one teaspoon, steep for three minutes — when the voice speaks right behind me.

I turn and she’s standing there. Rachel Clay.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say my heart stopped for just a second.

I haven’t seen Rachel for eleven years. When we were sixteen, we were in Miss Haversham’s science class at school. Rachel was bright, top of the class, small, cute, with blonde hair that was never really under control. We shared a kiss one night on the way home and danced together in the moonlight. What can I say? It was 1999. It was the best kiss of my life.

I left school soon after, and we never met again.

Now here she is, right behind me. I didn’t think it would be such a shock, so visceral. If she was cute when she was sixteen, she’s as hot as fire right now. She’s wearing geek glasses, but she still hasn’t got that hair under control.

I’m too dumbstruck to say anything, so it’s a good thing she just keeps on going.

“Cameron Everett. Oh my god. I was standing there in line and I saw you and I thought it can’t be but… Hi.”

She’s blushing now. God, I used to get so turned on when she blushed.

Looks like she hasn’t lost that magic.

I hurriedly turn away and scoop up my tea.

“Hi,” I say. Original. “Look, can I get you a drink?”

#

We find a table upstairs, away from anyone else, almost enveloped by an overgrown pot plant. I like to be close to living things. I sink back into the soft chair and look up at Rachel.

“So, do you keep in touch with anyone else?” I ask, more for something to say than because I’m interested. I never wanted to keep in touch with anyone from school, myself. Except Rachel, that is, and I didn’t have the nerve for that back then.

Her answer knocks me back for the second time today. “Everyone,” she says.

“Everyone?” I say. “Everyone in our class?”

She looks at the table, as though there’s something interesting written there. “Yeah. Everyone except you.”

Continue reading The Equation in the At the Gates and Other Stories collection.