Chapter 3: Ghosts in the Grocery Aisle

Derek’s girlfriend was named Aubrey Lane. Even her name sounded light and easy.

A junior at the University of Michigan, only twenty this year. I pictured her walking the Diag, backpack slung over one shoulder, her future a blank slate.

He’d brought her to a class reunion last year. Everyone watched them—him, proud and steady; her, glowing and nervous. It was all over Facebook for days.

An old friend told me, a little jealous, that they were a perfect match. She tried to say it offhand, like she was above it all, but the envy was plain as day.

After she said it, she covered her mouth, looking a little guilty. Probably remembering that, years ago, she’d said the same thing about me and Derek. Memories always come back to bite.

I managed a small smile. “It’s fine.” I meant it, or I tried to. Maybe you get used to disappointment after a while.

It’s all ancient history. Ancient and heavy, like a yearbook pressed flat under a bed. There’s comfort in finally letting go.

A few days later, I cleaned up my contacts on Facebook. Unfriended his whole family—even his aunt with the endless minion memes. Felt better than therapy.

I felt as light as if I’d been reborn. It was spring cleaning for my soul. I swapped my sheets for something bright and floral, cranked open the window, and let Detroit’s spring breeze chase out the ghosts.

I went to the grocery store. Just picking up the basics: bread, eggs, a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. You know, survival essentials.

Unexpectedly, I ran into Aubrey. Her hair was curled like a princess, and she waved at me like a fairy. Derek stood beside her, holding the shopping basket, looking slightly out of place in the produce aisle.

I froze for a second. My mind scrambled, caught somewhere between embarrassment and deja vu. The beeping registers, the freezer aisle blasting Bon Jovi, the linoleum slick with someone’s dropped ice cream—everything sharpened around them.

Suddenly I remembered, years ago, at our alma mater’s centennial celebration, I’d come back as an alum. That place always smelled like old books and gym socks, but that day it was packed, electric with nostalgia.

That day also happened to be SAT crunch time—kids mainlining Red Bull and freaking out over college apps. The place was buzzing. Banners everywhere, teachers making speeches, kids high on nerves and cheap energy drinks.

Aubrey was wearing her blue and white high school jacket, ponytail bouncing as she walked up to me, a little shy: “Could you write something encouraging for me?” Her hands shook a little as she handed me a Sharpie and her notebook.

Four or five years had flown by, and she still remembered me. That was rare. Most people barely remember what they had for breakfast yesterday, let alone a pep talk from a stranger.

After a little small talk, I couldn’t help but ask, “That day at the celebration, did I come alone?”

She thought for a moment. “I think your boyfriend was there too. I remember he was carrying your bag behind you.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I heard her continue: “But he was too far away, I didn’t see his face.”

She asked, a little curious, “Are you two still together?”

Derek, who was walking ahead, suddenly turned around, raising his eyebrows at me. It was a look I’d seen a hundred times—half challenge, half accusation.

My steps faltered. I nearly dropped my carton of eggs.

My heart felt like it had been clawed at. Old wounds, never quite healed, aching in the places I thought I’d patched up.

I knew that look all too well. Whenever I’d screwed up before, he liked to look at me that way—not quite mad, not quite forgiving. It was worse than anger; it was disappointment.

After a while, I’d get annoyed. And when I got annoyed, I’d find a chance to nip at his chin. I could never resist pushing his buttons, just to see him react.

And then—

He’d catch me as I tried to run and kiss me, slow and deliberate. Like he wanted to remind me who I belonged to, who I’d always come back to.

In that corner behind the door... In the glow of the old hallway light, between the faded trophies and the broken water fountain.

...

I snapped back to reality, forcing a smile. “We broke up a long, long time ago.” My voice was light, practiced, almost cheerful. I’d had years to rehearse.

Derek’s lips curled in a mocking smile. He grinned that smug, touchdown-on-homecoming face. Some things never change.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The air in the freezer aisle suddenly felt less suffocating.

At that moment, Aubrey showed me her finger, her face glowing with joy. Wow, what a big diamond ring. It caught the light and shot tiny rainbows on the linoleum.

“Does getting married make you age faster?”

“Depends who you marry.” I smirked, leaning in like we were swapping secrets over brunch.

I smiled. “If you marry the right person, you age in reverse.”

She widened her pretty eyes, full of innocent wonder. It was like she’d never heard anyone say something like that before.

I said, “Your guy here—anyone can tell he’s a good one, real family material.”

She blushed. “Really?” She twirled the ring, almost as if she couldn’t believe it was real.

I reassured her, “Guaranteed, our teacher said so back in the day.”

This time, she caught the main point right away: “Teacher?”

Derek suddenly turned to look at me. His gaze sharp, like he was reading between every line I’d just said.

Under both their gazes, I managed a strained smile. “We used to be... classmates. He was handsome, so the teachers always called on him to liven up the class.”

Aubrey was surprised. “Really?”

I nodded. Middle school rivals, high school friends, college boyfriend. My entire adolescence felt like it revolved around him.

What ran through my youth wasn’t time. It was Derek Shaw. Every argument, every inside joke, every summer night driving with the windows down—all of it, him.