Fold.
No panic.
Maya wrote the card three weeks later.
I remember your hands.
She did not include her name.
Carol knew.
Months passed.
Spring arrived.
Carol graduated high school.
She had planned to attend community college in Flagstaff while deciding what she wanted to study.
After Hollow Creek, everyone assumed criminal justice.
Carol surprised them.
“Nursing.”
Linda looked at her.
“Really?”
“Maybe emergency nursing.”
“Because of Maya?”
“Partly.”
Dale said:
“You sure you want a career where everybody is having the worst day of their life?”
Carol answered:
“Somebody should be there.”
Dale smiled.
“Fair.”
She started prerequisites in August.
Still worked at Hollow Creek.
Maya returned to Northern Arizona University the following semester.
Not full-time.
Two classes.
One online.
One in person.
Her first walk across campus alone took forty-three minutes because she stopped twice to turn back.
She went anyway.
She changed her major from communications to social work after another semester.
Her father protested jokingly.
“You were supposed to get a degree in talking.”
Maya said:
“I still will.”
“Now I’m getting a degree in listening too.”
She met Carol again almost a year after the diner.
Not arranged at first.
Maya drove to Flagstaff for an appointment related to the case.
Afterward, she sat in her car outside Hollow Creek.
Twenty minutes.
Could not go inside.
The diner looked smaller than memory.
Red neon.
Wide windows.
Ordinary cars.
No motorcycles except one near the side.
Dale’s.
Maya almost left.
Then Carol came outside carrying trash.
She saw the car.
Saw Maya.
Stopped.
Maya opened the door.
Carol smiled carefully.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Neither knew whether to hug.
Maya solved it.
She stepped forward.
Carol opened her arms.
The hug lasted a long time.
Inside, Gus pretended not to cry.
He failed.
Maya stood near booth four.
New tabletop.
The cracked laminate had been replaced after years of wear.
Maya looked almost offended.
“They changed it.”
Gus said:
“It was disgusting.”
“I memorized that crack.”
Gus immediately looked guilty.
“I have the old table in storage.”
Everyone stared.
Carol asked:
“Why?”
Gus shrugged.
“I keep things.”
Pete Garland, still at his normal counter seat, said:
“He’s a hoarder.”
Gus pointed at him.
“You’re banned.”
Pete drank coffee.
Maya sat in the booth.
Not trapped between anyone.
Window beside her.
Aisle open.
Carol brought coffee.
Then stopped.
“Sorry.”
Maya smiled.
“I drink coffee now.”
“You didn't that night.”
“I did before.”
“Then I didn't for months.”
“Now I do.”
Carol put down the mug.
Maya looked toward the front window.
“Where was the napkin?”
Carol pointed.
“Table two.”