Five Plates, Four Sets Of Cutlery, Zero For Me Chapter 02

Five Plates, Four Sets Of Cutlery, Zero For Me Chapter 02

The air went still for a few seconds.

Sadie looked nervous and small.

Dylan was the first to break the silence.

“Don’t read too much into it. We decided in the group chat late last night, at the last minute.”

Evan picked up where he left off.

“We didn’t leave you out on purpose. You were asleep this morning, and we couldn’t bring ourselves to wake you.”

But I hadn’t known anything about it.

I hadn’t even been given the choice of whether to go.

My brother put an arm around Sadie.

“It was only a sunrise. If you want to see one, we’ll go with you tomorrow morning.”

“All right. Let’s head home.”

The four of them started walking together.

I took out my phone and opened our five-person chat.

There was no mention in the chat of watching the sunrise that morning.

It hadn’t been planned in this group.

So it had to be in another one.

A group chat I wasn’t in.

I opened my department manager’s chat again.

I typed the message I’d failed to send the night before one more time.

[I’d like to take the temporary assignment in New York and work on the project there.]

My finger hovered over Send for a second before I pressed it.

Evan noticed how far behind I had fallen and doubled back to walk beside me.

“Don’t be mad. Next time, the five of us can watch one together.”

I nodded without answering.

I knew there was a sunrise every day.

There would never be another sunrise with all five of us together. I took the call from my department manager alone downstairs.

We settled on a Friday-night flight.

When I got home, the other four were crowded onto the couch, watching a movie.

Sadie was curled up in the middle, hugging a throw pillow.

Evan sat on one side of her, my brother on the other, and Dylan was on the end, laughing so hard he was nearly doubled over.

No one looked at me.

I stood in the corner of the living room for a while, then turned and went into my bedroom, pulling the door quietly shut.

I took a suitcase down from the top of the closet. It was the one I’d used when I first moved in.

I opened the closet and took out my clothes one piece at a time.

I was going to be gone for a while, so I needed clothes for more than one season.

I chose the pieces that would pack easily, folded them, and put them in the suitcase.

I planned to mail the rest to myself once I got to New York.

I folded slowly. Each time I put something in the suitcase, I smoothed out every wrinkle in the fabric.

The books beside my bed. The skincare products in front of my vanity. The mint plant I’d cared for so long.

Nothing was left behind.

The door opened without a knock.

Evan stood there with a can of soda in his hand.

His gaze shifted from the TV to my open suitcase.

“Why are you suddenly packing?”

I kept moving.

“I’m going away for work for a while.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“When are you leaving?”

“The company hasn’t decided.”

He stared at me, then took a long drink of soda.

“Okay. Don’t work too hard. I’ll drive you to the airport.”

Then he turned back to the living room, leaving the door open.

The other four burst into laughter again.

I crouched in front of the suitcase, smoothed out the half-folded sweater, then placed it at the bottom.

He’d asked me three questions.

He hadn’t asked where I was going or why I suddenly needed to leave.

He hadn’t even noticed that I’d packed clothes for more than one season.

I pulled the zipper closed, struggled to stand the suitcase upright, and pushed it against the wall.

Another burst of laughter exploded from the living room.

I sat back on the bed and opened Sadie’s Instagram grid again.

Four people, filling the frame perfectly.

I switched to the five-person chat and started scrolling up.

This Friday, I’d said I was working late and would be home later.

Sadie had replied with nothing but an OK GIF.

The Friday before that, Evan had tagged Sadie: [Take your time shopping. We’ll wait and eat a late-night snack when you get back.]

The Friday before that, my brother had tagged Sadie: [Be careful on the way home. We’ll wait to start dinner until you get back.]

I scrolled farther up and searched the chat for the word wait.

Fifteen times.

All fifteen were about Sadie.

My name appeared beside that word only once.

The previous Tuesday, Evan had written: [It’s about to rain. Sadie forgot her umbrella, so I’m going to pick her up on my way home. I’m not waiting for you tonight. Text me when you get home.]

That day, I’d stood under an umbrella in the rain for an hour before I could get a cab.

I stared at the screen and suddenly remembered the winter of my freshman year of college, when I’d asked in the group chat:

[Why don’t you guys ever wait for me?]

My brother had replied: [You’re a grown-up. Do you really need someone to wait for you?]

Evan had replied: [We were in a rush to save seats. Next time, for sure.]

Next time. Next time. Always next time.

He had said those words so many times. Each promise felt like a line in a play. Once it was spoken, the scene was over.

I muted the five-person chat, then swiped left and deleted the entire conversation history.

I wondered what they said in the four-person chat that didn’t include me.

Never mind. Some things didn’t need to be dragged into the light and spelled out.