2019
"So, you're meeting Serena where, again?"
"The Coffee Grounds," Sören said. It was September seventh - a pleasant Saturday afternoon, one of those summer-turning-into-fall days where the temperature wasn't too hot or too cold, just right. "We're not, ah, doing any hanky-panky the first date, or anything. We're just going to meet there, hang out for a couple hours, then I'll come back."
"And you're sure you don't want me to take you?" Yeyette furrowed her brow.
"No. That... looks bad." People already tended to assume he and Yeyette were a couple, as opposed to platonic best friends - they'd decided when they'd roomed together at Harvard not to fuck up their friendship by crossing that line. "If she sees me in your car she's going to think, well." Sören shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not even wanting to say it aloud. "So I'll just, you know, take the bus there and back. It's OK."
"Hm." Yeyette folded her arms. "OK."
There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence where they both looked off to the side rather than each other, as if even bringing up what Yeyette driving him to The Coffee Grounds and back would look like, had opened up some can of worms of awkwardness. Sören knew that mentioning the potential for Serena to misconstrue the situation and get jealous also hit on a sore spot, of Sören's ex Juniper being insanely jealous of his friendship with Yeyette and isolating him from her, and in the time where they lost touch a lot had happened to Yeyette.
But then they looked at each other again and Sören knew that look on Yeyette's face, after years. It was the same look she got when they had been in med school and they were working on cadavers and doing autopsies. It was the same look Anthony got on his face when he was doing archaeology research.
"What's her last name, again? I can't remember if you told me and I forgot, or you just never told me," Yeyette said. "Asking for safety reasons."
Sören gave a nervous laugh - as if Serena were some sort of serial killer or something - but he decided that was a fair question, since Juniper had turned out to be abusive, and he knew Yeyette felt protective of him. "Her surname is Ubrelvy," Sören said. "Serena Ubrelvy. I think she's, ah. Part-Russian." In Iceland they did patronymics, not surnames, and Sören still hadn't figured out how to place ethnicity by surname.
"Hm," Yeyette said; she herself was half-Russian, half-French.
There was another long, awkward silence and then Sören looked at the time. "Gotta get ready," he said truthfully. Though he wasn't one for getting dressed up, he nonetheless wanted to make a good first impression and had decided on a grey cardigan over a black T-shirt, with black corduroy pants, not too casual and not too dressy. He wanted to be freshly showered and changed, so he gave a quick wave and headed off to the bathroom, heart racing faster, a spring in his step. Juniper had broken his heart, Anthony and Nicholas had picked up the pieces, and it was a sign of healing that he was willing to try again, trust again.
He was excited, but still nervous. Irrationally so, he felt. Other than spilling coffee all over yourself, what could possibly go wrong? he lectured himself as he undressed, trying to quell his anxiety with logic.
Despite Sören's anxiety both with meeting a new person and with crowds, the bus ride was still relaxing rather than stressful. Terre Haute had its own charm, and Sören looked out the window on the way there at the fields, reminded of his great-grandparents who were farmers in Akureyri. He smiled to himself as he entertained the fantasy of being a farmer, but he didn't know the first thing about it, and it somehow seemed more complicated than being a doctor - a lot of hard work, a lot of old skills that had been lost with modernity and its convenience.
Sören arrived early at The Coffee Grounds. He preferred to be early for appointments whenever possible - he hated doctors who made people wait, he tried not to be one of them, and that extended into his personal life. He picked a table in the corner, so he could carefully observe everything, but he kept checking his phone as a nervous fidgety habit, and after awhile that turned into playing his dragon game and getting distracted.
But not so distracted that he didn't take a look whenever the door chimed to let in a new customer. And two minutes before Serena had said she would arrive, a familiar face walked into the cafe. One that made Sören jump and spill coffee on himself.
Their eyes met across the coffee shop.
"Juniper." Sören's mouth opened.
She was just as he'd seen her the last time - fake dyed black hair, dramatic dark eye makeup and blood-red lipstick, wearing all black with a silver pentagram necklace. She had once seemed mysterious and sexy to him, now her schtick came off like an overgrown mall goth, and he had long since learned she favored style over substance, aesthetic over sincerity and depth. Yes, there was no mistaking her now, with her appearance and that air of smug, not-like-the-other-girls superiority - right down to coming here for a cup of coffee instead of someplace mainstream like Starbucks.
Sören felt like leaving right then - this was trouble, Juniper lived in Florida, now suddenly she was in Indiana at the exact day and time he was scheduled to meet a date, there was something wrong here - but he didn't want to leave and stand Serena up. Even so, he felt rattled to his core, knowing he wouldn't be much fun on this first date with the shock to his system that was seeing Juniper again. He was shaking like a leaf, just like the day he'd left her, all of the visceral hurt and shame and fear flooding back.
Juniper smiled, got in the queue, and then she wandered over to his table once she had her coffee. "Hi, Sören. Fancy seeing you here."
"Jæja, I've got a date." Sören glared at her, and hoped the news that he'd moved on and was seeing other people would sting at least a little, though he doubted it, with the way she'd hurt him.
And then Juniper's smile became an evil grin... predatory, like a wolf that had just spotted dinner. "With Serena." She reached out her free hand to tweak a curly lock. "You really do know nothing -"
Sören bolted, heart hammering in his ears. "Oh god," he muttered as he ran out the door, the pit of his stomach rising, a violent wave of nausea as the pieces clicked into place in his head. Juniper had been masquerading as Serena. She was unhinged enough to stalk him -
Suddenly Sören felt zaps at the small of his back, like shocks of static electricity but much more intense, shooting pain through his entire body. Sören collapsed in the parking lot with a whimper, shielding his face as he hit the pavement, feeling his right knee scrape through his pants.
She tasered me, Sören realized.
Then he felt something stab him in the shoulder. It felt like time was dilating, colors fading. He was cautious with using the Force in public, especially now after he knew what had happened to Yeyette and her partners, but now he tried to reach out with his hand to push Juniper away from him as she approached, step by step, the world slowing down. She kept coming, and that spark, that push, was harder and harder to do. Sören glanced and realized he had a dart in his shoulder.
There was another familiar face now. Through his panic and whatever it was the dart was doing to him, he would know that Michael Jackson looking face anywhere - Juniper's boyfriend, Larry. The son of the guy who owned the carnival he'd visited over the summer. Larry was also coming towards him.
"Needest thou some helpeth?" Larry asked, and pulled Sören up from the ground. Larry and Juniper began walking Sören towards a Buick that had seen better days, with fading, peeling black paint. Sören tried to struggle, tried again to push with the Force, but the world was slowly spinning and he felt like he was made of lead and his body was limp like a ragdoll as they pushed on ahead.
Sören let out a cry of protest as he was shoved in the backseat, and then he slumped over, eyes heavy. He tried to hold out just a little longer - fight, damn you, he told himself - but everything was continuing to fade and slow down and down and down.
Sören closed his eyes and went into darkness.