“Do you remember those two boys? From our old neighborhood?” The girl brought up the conversation during dinner time, one of which to her lack of knowledge that was much overdue.

“Oh yes, Alan and Alexander?” her mother finely cut into her medium rare tenderloin steak.

“Yeah, I was wondering if maybe they could come over sometime? Ya know, to catch up since it’s been awhile?”

“Of course you can sweetheart, you’re more than welcome to invite Alex over.” Her father shifted his peas across his plate.

“….Alex?” The girl was confused. Why was it only him? “What do you mean?”

The clinks of silverware diving into chinaware stopped, the parents ceased their feast. The silence was deafening, but its latter was more piercing.

“Sweetie, Alan passed away 7 years ago.” Her mother finely cut the silence.

“There was a car accident. It was minor, everyone else was okay, but Al…he couldn’t recover. He didn’t make it to the hospital.” Her father shifted to the cold hard facts.

A chill sat on her body like thin dust on an old untouched book. The memory of the ice skates resurfaced to her mind. So did the boy she had just spent time with, the one she spent time catching up with for the past few weeks. Al would not have lied to her, he would never, but this was not Al, this was Alex. But even so, they were just the same. No. They were different. They were different people. How much could a person have changed over a couple of years? A light drizzle beat against the window of the dining room. It was raining outside. That was her connection.

*******

Seven years too late. The girl was in her bedroom. She stuck her hand in the mason jar and gingerly picked up a single soda tab, carefully as to not cut herself. She lifted the stub and read the sharpie written date on the edge. April 24, 2009. It was not an important date, or least one that she could remember. It was definitely before she moved, but what could have happened that day was lost in the void of past memories. She could not remember, no matter how hard much she wanted to. She delicately slid the aluminum ring of the soda tab on to her left pinky finger. This was something she did not forget. The girl did not forget what little gesture Al had done with this little ring.

She tossed the mason jar, hoping it would fall with a resounding crash and shatter into a million glass shards so small that it could not be put back together. That it could not be needed. But it only landed with a soft thud on her high profiled carpet. That was her mistake. She could have tossed the jar in such a way that it would have missed this covered section of her bedroom floor. Or maybe it really was coincidental.

The soda tabs were scattered across the floor. Some had tittered over to the hard floor in short chimes as if teasing her, but mixed in all the same. She wondered which ones were really from Alan. She wondered which ones were really from Alexander. There was no way to tell.

After an enduring heave of the never ending ticking clock, perhaps thinking her stare could separate the two, the girl sighed. She picked up the mason jar and placed it back on the sill. She walked out, leaving the room, and leaving someone else to ponder on their distinction later.