He didn’t like the way the waitress had looked at him when he asked for a drink. He didn’t really like that he was asking for one with his breakfast either but shit, what was the big deal? It was his day off and if he felt like having a beer, he’d have one. Besides, she had no idea what he’d been through, how hard it was for him just to get through the day without taking one wrong turn in his mind that would lead to a swamp of despair, self-pity, and questions, always the damned questions.

Why him?

What if he’d left five minutes later?

When would it stop hurting? Could it?

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” the waitress said with a little smile as she set a beer in front of him. Her smile looked almost sincere, like maybe somewhere inside she could empathize, or maybe James just hoped that she would. “Enjoy it. Last one until the truck gets in this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” James called after her as she weaved her way over to a coffeepot to make the rounds. As he pressed the bottle to his lips, he suddenly felt his throat constrict. The song on the jukebox had switched, and Sarah McLachlan had begun to belt out an acoustic version of “I Will Remember You.” It suddenly felt like there was a golf ball blocking his airway. He put the bottle down and brought a white-knuckled fist to his mouth. The upbeat, rhythmic guitar and the enthusiasm of the Lilith Fair crowd did little to quell the tears that were already gathering at the edges of his eyes. In an instant he was living it all over again. The shock that came with the phone call from the police. Walking into the cold room at the hospital and seeing Robbie pulled out of a stainless steel drawer for identification. The funeral and, of course, this song. This damned beautiful song that would haunt him for eternity. A sob accidentally escaped his lips and he quickly covered his face with his hands to avoid the curious glances from around the diner.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.…” James whispered through his fingers, “Get a hold of yourself.” He wiped the tears away roughly with the sleeve of his hoodie and quickly slammed the beer. The warmth of the alcohol ebbed through him and he cursed the day for being so young. He’d be hard-pressed to find another drink at this hour.

An egg and sausage plate slid in front of him and the waitress paused, resting her hip against his table. “You okay? You look a little shook-up.”

“Fine. I’m fine,” James lied and mustered the most credible smile he could. She nodded and left him.