Chapter Text
I take a deep breath and check my phone for the thousandth time. I have the email completely memorized by now, but I read it over again to give me courage.
“Thank you for your purchase! This email confirms you have successfully purchased 1 ticket for our Beginner’s Grottos & Gargoyles event!
Event Details :
Date: Sunday, August 17th
Time: 2:00pm - 6:00pm
Location: Critical Rock ‘n RollDM Preference:
You’ve requested Chance McMahon . We’ll do our best to accommodate your DM preference, but please note that table assignments are subject to availability.”
I take another gulp of air and slide my phone into my bag.
I’m loitering on the sidewalk in front of Critical Rock ‘n Roll. From the outside, it looks like the eclectic love child of a board game store and a dive bar, because that’s exactly what it is. The sign over the door is painted in bold red, in a font that is elaborate and old timey. The front window is decorated with an assortment of cartoons from the 80’s, video game characters, superheroes, and various beasties and monsters. A flyer advertises movie trivia every Tuesday night.
It’s definitely not a place that should inspire a racing pulse and gasping breaths, but I feel on the verge of a panic attack.
He’s there. Inside. And I just have to walk through the door and see him.
At first, I was surprised when they started dropping out of my life. There were ignored emails and phone calls, texts left on read for days. But I tried to be understanding. After all, they were all building lives for themselves as living, breathing, tax-paying human beings. We had all shared so much, what was a few days or weeks without checking in or meeting up?
But it wasn’t until I dropped by Kopi’s coffee shop one afternoon that I realized something was very wrong. I greeted her enthusiastically and when she smiled back at me, it was with her bright and shiny “customer service” expression. Then, she asked what she could get me, as if she didn’t know that my regular order was an oatmilk cappuccino. As if she wasn’t the one who had proudly explained the difference between a latte and a cappuccino. As if she hadn’t drawn a heart in the foam for me every morning.
I realized she didn’t know who I was.
After everything we’d been through together – be to each other – she didn’t know who I was.
I left the coffee shop shaking that day.
But it wasn’t just Kopi.
Mitchell Linn asked if I was calling to confirm his Friday night reservation when I finally managed to get him on the phone.
Maggie walked right past me on the sidewalk as I waved to her, engrossed in a true crime podcast.
Dorian stopped me at the door to his club, demanding to see my ID before I could go inside. I broke down in tears in front of him and he just dryly suggested I had already had a little too much fun that night.
Sam and her state university psychology minor guessed that their brand new brains couldn’t cope with the contradiction of having a human body, feelings, and personality and also having been inanimate objects brought to life through the power of magic fuck sunglasses developed by a sinister multinational corporation. And that they were repressing the memory of their former existence to better integrate into human society.
It sounded plausible. It made sense. But… how could they not know who I was?
After that, I stopped all attempts to reach out to any of the dateables and stopped responding to the few that still seemed to remember me. It hurt to ignore message after message from Betty, always sent around midnight, but it hurt worse to imagine the day when she too would forget my name, my face, and what we had shared.
I tried to let it go. I tried to convince myself it was for the best. Whether they all remembered me or not, I still remembered the amazing things we had experienced together. I could still take pride in the fact that they were living lives in the world thanks to me. And I still knew everything I owed them in return; I wasn’t a shrinking, scared shut-in anymore. The memories could live on in me and we could all go our separate ways.
For the most part, I was able to do that.
I started visiting a new coffee shop, so I wouldn’t have to see Kopi any longer. I found a new accountant. I stopped walking past Koa’s furniture store. I made an effort to develop other relationships with people that have never been anything but people. After several months, my memories started to lose their sharp edges, started to bring me more pleasure than pain.
But the one dateable I wasn’t able to stop thinking of was Chance. Goofy, sweet, creative Chance.
So here I was standing in front of a nerdy bar with a confirmation email burning a hole in my inbox. When I walk through the door, I'll know for sure. I'll look into Chance's face and either see the light of recognition in his eyes or the blank politeness when meeting a stranger.
I take a final deep breath and pull the door open.