i read a great piece of writing and it gives me hope in those out there who inspire and are inspired. i have hope that there are others who think like i do and need the beautifully magical things to propel them through life. those who will never grow old of a childhood story or a world unlike ours. these type of things warm my heart and soul, and give me an externally bright hope for the future.
…
The car was like an oven, rising in temperature by the minute. The heat outside the car made the air so heavy that you could see it floating, weaving in and out of the mass and matter.
She leaned her seat back, quickly releasing the hot metal handle as she began to feel the burn in her fingers. She lifted her legs off the chair, placing her feet on the dashboard, strategically on either side of the steering wheel. The back of her thighs were wet with sweat. Using her hand, she fanned the air between her legs and the seat, hoping her body temperature would decrease. A pair of square, cat-eyed sunglasses sat heavily on her nose, sliding down a millimeter at a time. She pushed them back up and ran her hands through her hair as if the two were one fluid motion.
The bright green, segmented numbers glared at her, taunting her. She wrapped her suntanned arms across her midsection, willing the carnivorous butterflies in her stomach to stop snacking. Pulling her feet back, she placed them side by side on the steering wheel, leaned her forehead against her knees, hugged her legs, and closed her eyes.
The sun was so bright that she needed to shield her eyes with her hand in addition to the use of her sunglasses. There was a certain type of commotion that was only found at a train station. The air had impatience weaved into its molecules and the sounds of feet against the pavement only made her more aware of her nerves. She spotted him – he was hard to miss in the yellow pastel shorts he was wearing. His eyes, blocked by a pair of black Oakley’s, scanned the crowd for her. There was a certain irony in the fact that he was looking for her in a place he had never been, not knowing what she was wearing, where she was parked, and not having set eyes on her in months. Half of her wanted to let him search a little longer – give herself a little time to gain some composure. But her impulses won and she walked in his direction.
“John…”
He didn’t hear her. She raised her voice.
“John!”
His head turned in her direction and as his eyes registered her, a smile stretched across his face. His long strides brought him within two feet of her in just a handful of steps.
“Hi” The simplicity of the greeting heightened her nerves. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff and at any moment she could fall off and tumble to an extremely painful, embarrassing death.
“Hi,” she said, mimicking his response, hoping to convey that she was somewhat in control.
He stepped an inch closer. Her stomach lurched.
“It’s been…”
“A long time, yeah.”
They paused a beat, breathing shallowly. She was positive that she was going into cardiac arrest, standing there holding her breath, when he swiftly stepped forward, gapping the distance between them finally.
“I missed you.”
He didn’t give her the chance to respond, because suddenly his hands were around her and her hands were in his hair and their lips were melting together, creating the heat that surrounded them…
Her cell phone buzzed violently inside the cup holder, jerking her back into reality. She sighed and picked up her phone. His text message told her that his train would arrive in about five minutes. She shook her head and the remnants of her day dream. The silence was overwhelming, so she turned on the radio. She went through the stations in order, each song failing to distract her in the way she wanted. Giving up on finding a song, she reached her hands up, ran her fingertips on the soft ceiling, then dropped them down, resting her arms on the top of her head, framing her face. She inhaled, held her breath for a few seconds, and then exhaled slowly, hoping to slow her heartbeat. Leaning her head back against the headrest, she closed her eyes.
“John…”
He didn’t hear her. She raised her voice.
“John!”
His head turned in her direction and as his eyes registered her. His long strides brought him within two feet of her in just a handful of steps.
“Hi,” she said, the butterflies went from having a snack to eating a six course meal.
“Hey.” His eyes were dimmer than she remembered, void of excitement.
“How are you? I missed you!” As the words stumbled out of her mouth, she felt embarrassment creep over her. It was like she was in seventh grade again and she was trying desperately to act cool in front of the guy she had a crush on.
“I’m okay… but look, we should talk…”
And as he spoke the most over-used cliché in break-up history, the hustle and bustle of the train station swirled around her, creating a blurry busy mess.
“…my feelings have just … changed. I’m so sorry.”
She stood there, tears in her eyes, wishing in that moment that she was anywhere but right there, standing in front of him having her heart crushed. She looked around, for any excuse to escape, any chance to end this conversation, but there was no sign relief in sight. She opened her mouth, grasping for the right words to respond…for any words to respond…
RING!! RING!!
Her eyes opened and she grabbed her phone. His name flashed across the caller ID and she fumbled to answer it before she missed the call.
“Hello?” She held her breath and waited for reality to take place.
“Hey… I’m here”
The air was a bit brisker than the day before. She could tell because when she stepped outside, the hair on her arms rose ever so slightly. Luckily, she had anticipated it. She’d worn pants, rather than her usual pair of shorts, and in a last minute decision, had thrown on a windbreaker.
The sun wasn’t up yet, but the sky was starting to change from a solid black to a midnight blue. She took the same path that she always had, getting into her usual rhythm quickly. One foot in fell in front of the other, slowly at first, but then a bit quicker with each stride. Her breathing was controlled - deep, but even. The wind against her face wasn’t harsh, but invigorating.
She had been doing this every morning for as long as she could remember. It wasn’t as though it was a hobby, or a sport to her, but more like a comfort of knowing she could run the same three miles, on the same path, in the same time every day. She passed the same houses, trees, the rundown tennis courts, and her old elementary school…it was a second nature to her.
That morning she clung to her routine more than usual, knowing that it would be a long time before she would do this again. The change in the air temperature was a sly and comical prediction of what was to come. In the way that she knew that the seasons would eventually change, she had known this day would eventually come.
She had never been good with change. When she was little, and her parents told her that they were moving to the next town over she refused to believe them. They had given her months to come to terms with the news, but time didn’t do much for her. When moving day came, she’d hid under her bed, unwilling to accept the fact that her family was indeed moving.
But of course, when her parents had extracted her from the protection of her bed, put her in the car, and drove her to the new house it took all of twenty minutes for her to become enamored with her new spacious room, the large backyard, and a neighborhood full of kids her age. And while one might think she would have learned to fear change less, after having experienced it frequently in the past ten years, she never got past the initial gut wrenching nerves which attacked her every time a transformation was about to impact her life.
It was the same when her best friend Clare moved away. They were fifteen and they spent every waking moment together. They’d had the same hair style – long brown and straight – and even the same uncommon shade of green eyes. People used to ask if they were sisters, which of course they would confirm to be true. And when Clare left, it was as if her world was a little less special. That was when she realized that she hated change - that nothing good could come from it.
The road in front of her unraveled, as if the pavement would not exist without her feet touching it. She liked to think that her route needed her as much as she needed it – as though if she didn’t run that path every morning the trees would collapse and the road would crumble. She knew the route so well, as if she had it tattooed to the inside of her eyelids. She remembered how it had been back when she first started. The trees were half their current size, their branches barely reaching into the horizon. The number of houses on the streets had doubled, and even the ones that were there since the beginning were different. There had been paint jobs, new shutters, extensions, and in a few cases, even total makeovers. She’d know this somewhere in the dark irrelevant places in her mind, but it was today that these facts had a true impact.
It was coming to a close. The path and this part of her life. For the past eight years she had run this same path, thinking that nothing had changed, but even before her eyes change was occurring right there at the place that was supposed to be her constant. As she took the last few strides from the road back into her driveway, she saw her parents SUV, packed tightly with all her belongings. Everything she would need for the next four years, in one truck. And as the sun peaked its way through the trees, making its first appearance as it did every morning, she realized something. Like the trees and the houses, there were some things that would always grow and change, but every day, the sun would still be there. And sometimes, all you need is the sun.
It was so old. It was folded in half, leaving a crease down the middle. It was so … yellow. I knew that I should have noticed more – the soft, faded texture, the scratchy, cramped handwriting…but I couldn’t think about anything else besides the fact that it was yellow. It was a protective measure, I guess, looking back. Because if I let myself understand what it was, what the mere compacted pieces of paper in my hand were, I would fall apart.
“Sarah…?”
I opened my mouth, but my lips hung there as if my mind had no control over them.
“Sarah, honey, this is supposed to be a happy thing. I know it’s going to be hard for you, but really try to think of it that way, okay?”
I cleared my throat.
“Okay.”
I watched the trees pass from the passenger seat in the car. The colors blurred, mixes of greens and yellows, tiny, individual leaves getting lost from sight more and more as the car sped along, and tears welled in my eyes.
I could feel my mom looking at me, instead of at the road. Her eyes darted from my face, checking for tears on my face, to my lap where my hands were folded, fingers intertwined, resting gently over the unopened envelope.
“Are you going to open it?”
I looked down at it. It was so small. It was so small, and old, and so very inanimate. It seemed like it couldn’t be anything, like it couldn’t do anything, like it couldn’t change anything. But it was something. It was something that I never thought I would ever have. It was something that I never knew had existed. It was something that I didn’t even want; because I never thought that it would be possible to have. It was something that made sitting there in the car, holding it in my hand, seem like a dream.
And if I opened it, my life would change. It might not be in the way that your life changes when you get your drivers license, or when you get engaged, or when you have a child, but it would change. Everything that I had thought to be true up until this point might be different.
Everything would change, and yet, nothing would. Fifteen years before that, my father would still have died. I still would have grown up, barely remembering him, not knowing him, yet missing him entirely every day. He would become a real human, instead of the figment in my imagination. The wild black curls that were my hair would have come from him. The way that I drenched my pancakes in syrup, but couldn’t stand sugar in my coffee would have been his habits. My unexplainable love for baseball, photography, and Charleston Chews wouldn’t seem so random anymore. The memories that I created in my head, the ones of playing on the swings in the park and getting piggy back rides, those would disappear. But he…he would have been real.
And so I sat there, holding the letter from him in my hands. I traced the edges with my fingers. I memorized the way that his handwriting danced my name across the envelope. And in that moment, I realized it was more than an insignificant yellow envelope. It was the chance that I had been too afraid to want and to wait for. Something that seemed impossible, yet, was sitting right in my lap. But it was possible. It was right there, and it was mine.
“Sarah?”
I cleared my throat.
I stuck my pinky nail under the corner of the seal, and began to tear the old, yellowed paper.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m going to open it.”
The carpet was an ugly shade of blue that coated the floor in every doctor’s office, kindergarten class room, and office building. Every other person in the world would subconsciously notice the fact that they’d seen the color before, but I was different. I really noticed. I noticed that the shade of blue wasn’t even blue at all. It was a mixture of reds and purples and blacks and blues. I saw all the details in everything that didn’t matter.
Sitting in the airport terminal was unnerving. I watched the floor in front of me as hundreds of shoes and wheeled suitcases passes me. My thoughts were racing as fast as the wheels on the suitcase of those people running to catch their flights. I ran my hand over my freshly buzzed blonde hair, feeling the short bristles tickle my calloused hands. I straightened my navy blue v-neck sweater, the same one I had since high school. I took out my outdated cell phone, checking to see if I had received any new messages. My sister sent one wishing me a safe flight. I responded, thanking her, and pushed my phone back into my pocket. I was just beginning to focus on examining the carpet again, when I heard a woman’s voice.
“Is this seat taken?”
Her hair was light brown and even though it was tucked into a braid, you could see that it was curly. She was wearing a pair of jeans which had one gaping hole in the knee and a plain white tank top. She had a brown leather bag slung over her shoulder, and her eyes were wide, green, and waiting for a response as she pointed toward the chair next to me.
“Uh…no. No, go ahead,” I answered, flustered from my broken concentration. I gestured toward the chair.
She sat down and crossed her right leg over her left leg. She reached into her bag and pulled out a silver iPod. She untangled the cords of the headphones - her long, delicate fingers working out the intricate knots and loops. Once they were tangle-free, she put them in her ears, and pressed play.
I turned my head from her, and resumed my position of looking at the floor. My eyes unfocused, and the passing feet became a blurry, nervous mess. They were an indication of lateness, rushing, and change, all very common attributes of an airport’s people. It was poetic in way, yet terrifying.
My right leg bounced up and down, quickly, a nervous habit I had picked up from my father. In high school, during my basketball games, I would look up into the stands and see him sitting there, bouncing his leg. It was something that stuck with me, a security blanket of sorts that would stay with me now that everything was going to be different.
“Nervous, huh?” I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn’t realized that she was looking at me.
“What?” I responded, at first not sure what she was referring to. She motioned toward my leg, which was still bouncing up and down, smiled, and raised her left eyebrow slightly. “Oh, yeah, a little bit.” I laughed a dry and short laugh.
“Does flying freak you out? It’s not as bad as everyone makes it out to be,” she assured me. “There’s a very slim chance that there’s going to be a terrorist on your plane, I promise.”
I laughed genuinely this time. “No,” I answered, “I’m not a nervous flyer. I’ve been in a plane many times before.”
“So what is it then?” There was a genuine look of curiosity on her face. I noticed then that she wore little, if any makeup, and that there was a small round birth mark over her right eyebrow. She looked free from stress, and somehow not jaded. It was almost as if she had retained some sort of childhood innocence and curiosity that gave her hope.
I looked at her, squinting my eyes, trying to see if she was joking and just good as pretending to be interested in a stranger’s life. She looked so truly interested, that I found myself answering before I knew what I was doing.
“Well, I’m moving across country. I just got a new job.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m going to be an Athletic Trainer for the San Francisco Giants. They’re a baseball team.”
She laughed at me. “I know who the Giants are. That’s great though! Have you worked for a team in the MLB before?”
“No, it’s my first time. I was working for some minor teams near home, but it’s my first job in the Majors.”
“That’s a big deal! You should be excited.”
“I know…I am excited.”
“No offense, but there could not be less enthusiasm in your voice right now.”
She was right. In that moment, I could not have been more terrified. I had never lived more than a half an hour away from my family, and here I was moving from New York to San Francisco. It was a big change.
“Seriously,” she asked, “why aren’t you more excited?”
“It’s not that I’m not excited. It’s just… I don’t do so well with change, I guess.”
If she had known me, she would have known that. I shopped at the same stores – the Gap and JCrew – since I was fifteen. I still ate Sunday night dinners with my family, even though I’d move out of the house five years ago. I re-read the same books every year, and never download new music for my iPod. I still had the same cell phone that I got when I first signed up for my plan. I knew all of this, but I had never admitted until that very moment that I hated change. Somehow it took a complete strange to help you realize your greatest fears.
She looked at me with those green eyes penetrating my skin, as if they could see into my heart and mind. I’d never seen someone look so unafraid in my life.
“I think that you’re going to do just fine. Sometimes change can be a good thing, especially if it’s something that you really want.” Her response was simple, but the tone of her voice melted onto my skin, a cashmere blanket of calm. My heart rate suddenly slowed, the only indicator that it had been racing prior to this.
“You’re probably right,” I answered.
She looked down and pressed play on her iPod again, abruptly ending our brief encounter. I looked across the terminal, and suddenly I realized that there was more than change happening in this airport. There were people reuniting with loved ones, families coming back together, and people fulfilling their lifelong dreams. I lifted my head away from their rushing feet, and saw so many lives changing before my eyes. It was frightening, but invigorating.
An almost-recorded voice came over the loud speaker and announced that my flight was boarding. I stood up, and grabbed my carry-on bag. I turned to face the woman.
“Well, this is my flight. It was nice to meet you.”
She smiled back at me, but didn’t say a word. I waited just a beat too long, and realized that she wasn’t going to say anything. I wasn’t sure what I expected her to say.
I turned and walked toward the boarding gate, filing in line with all the other airport people. I gave the attendant my ticket, and boarded the plane. I noticed the airplane had the same multi-colored blue carpet as the terminal did. Quickly, I found my seat, put my back in the storage compartment above it, and sat down. I closed my eyes.
Suddenly, I could picture what my life was going to be. I knew that leaving home and taking this job was what I deserved. It was the right choice. Everything seemed so clear all at once.
I took my cell phone out of my pocket to turn it off, when suddenly I heard a familiar voice.
“Hi.” It was the girl from the terminal. My mouth dropped open a bit, as I gapped at her when she was taking her seat next to me.
“H-h-h-hii,” I stammered.
“You know, if you’re going to live in San Francisco and work in the MLB, you’re going to have to get a cell phone that wasn’t made in the stone age,” she gestured toward my phone, smiling the same reassuring smile she had shared with my in the terminal.
I smiled back at her. “I think you’re probably right,” I answered. “You’re probably very right.”
She looked down at her watch, again. There was a circle of crystals which encompassed the face of the watch, complimenting the silver band. She couldn’t help but notice that just one crystal was missing. It was easier to focus on the solitary imperfection of the watch, rather than read the actual time. If she ignored the time, she could ignore the fact that she’d been waiting for quite awhile.
She exhaled hard, and her golden-brown bangs lifted from her brow briefly. They fell back down, disheveled across her forehead, so long that they nearly touched her eye lashes. She looked down at her hands, small and pale, clenched around each other in her lap. She’d already had one cup of coffee, and if it had been a year ago, she would have ordered another. Lately, she’d been drinking one cup a day.
The café where she sat was one that she visited quite often. She came there to read on Friday nights and Sunday mornings because she never had anything else planned anymore. Sometimes, her friends would call and ask her to go to breakfast or lunch, but normally she’d spend her weekends and week nights alone.
The grey clouds moved so quickly in the sky, an unavoidable reminder that time was passing by.
She knew that it was a long shot when she called him. The pain in her heart was unbearable when he was surprised that it was her voice on the phone – she knew he had deleted her from his contact list. Who could blame him? She had deleted him from her life. That pain quickly turned to shock and nerves when he agreed to meet her. She hadn’t expected that.
But here she was, waiting for him. He was late, and disappointment began to sink over her, just the way it probably sank over him that day. She closed her eyes, and could see it – the day would be imprinted in her mind forever. The leaves had become crisp and orange, and the warmth leftover from the summer air had disappeared. She remember how his face had crumpled in the same way that the leaves did when you stepped on them, and that his eyes had began water out of anger and betrayal. He had trusted her, and she had let him down. She had made a promise and a commitment to him, and she ruined it all that day.
She’d given up looking at the door twenty minutes before, so when it opened and he walked in, she didn’t see him until he was standing at the table, right in front of her.
She lost her breath for a moment, and took a good look at him. She hadn’t expected him to look so much older. His hair was cut short, instead of the boyish shaggy cut he used to wear. The collar of his plaid flannel shirt just barely grazed the two or three day old scruff that grew on his face. The only part of him that was familiar to her was his eyes – blue as ever – but even they were icy cold instead of the warm ocean that she used to see.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she responded. She shivered a bit, shocked to hear her own voice.
“Sorry I’m late. I had some trouble finding the place. I’ve never been here before.”
“No, don’t be sorry. It’s alright. I’m just glad that you came.”
She didn’t fail to notice the cliché that was their conversation. It was the same one that was written into all those romantic comedies that she rented on Friday nights when she was alone in her apartment. The ones that never used to make her sad, but these days made her cry like someone who had never been in love but longed to. She’d had that love. Not one that was perfect, but one that was real. One that caused fights over sides of the bed, but only because they both wanted to sleep intertwined, caught up in each other. One that was gone now.
A waitress came over to the table, and he ordered a cup of coffee, black. Even the way he took his coffee had changed. She remembered all those times that she’d ordered for him - cream and two sugars.
He cleared his throat, waiting for her to speak. She knew she should - she was the one who asked him here after all, but it was like suddenly all those words that she thought about saying to him in the last year were erased from her memory, and all that was left was the feeling of guilt that she’d carried around with her every day since the last time she’d seen him.
“How have you been?” She hated the simplistic question that would never allow her to get the answers that she really needed to hear.
“I’ve been good” He answered too quickly, his eyes bore into the scalding surface of his coffee. “Busy, you know?” His voice cracked in the middle of that last statement.
Her nose started to tingle and she felt that dreadful sting in her eyes. He was so unconvincing. There was still so much hurt in his eyes, and he sounded so rehearsed, like maybe the reason he was late was because he had sat in his car, looked in the mirror and practiced what to say. Maybe she should have done the same. Maybe then she wouldn’t have teared up just then.
“I, uh, wanted to tell you…I’m moving next month.” It was the first time he’d looked her in the eye since he’d walked in the door. She was shocked.
“Wow…I mean…why? No…I mean, um, where?”
“Back out to the west coast. I think I’ve had enough of the New York winters…”
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s great.”
“Yeah. It’s time to go back home.”
She tried to take it all in as he went onto explain that he got a job offer back in San Francisco, but the words “it’s time to go back home” just circled around in her head, a merry-go-round that was all wrong. New York wasn’t his home anymore.
At that point, there was no chance in saving her pride, so she swallowed what was left of it, and reached for her bag. She opened the flap, and grasped for the small, black velvet box. She put it down on the table, and pushed it across to him.
“Here,” It was the only word she could muster.
She’d done the one thing that could break his brittle exterior. His jaw tensed as he took the box in his hand, rubbing his thumb across the soft velvet. It was as if holding it for just a moment brought back every memory he’d tried so hard to block from his mind. Ever so suddenly, he stuck it in his pocket, as if he couldn’t handle the flood of memories.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He looked down at his watch, and said he should get going, that he had somewhere to be soon. He said that he was glad he came, and that he’d seen her before he left for California. She agreed with him. He slid his chair back, and stood up.
“Bye, Francis.”
As she watched him walk out the door, she knew it would be the last time she’d see him. She didn’t regret her decision. She knew that she had the life that she chose. She had a job, and an apartment, and a dog, and her freedom. She only hated the pain that they both experienced from it. It wasn’t really fair, how she managed to tear both of their lives to shreds. She spent months struggling over if it had been the right decision, and now she finally knew.
She hoped that maybe one day she’d hear that he had gotten married to some beautiful, smart, kind girl. He deserved to be happy, just as she did. Seeing him made her realize how wrong those movies were. People talked about relationships leaving scars, but the truth was that sometimes the wounds were so deep that there wasn’t a remedy to heal them. Relationships ended in gory messes which sometimes never were resolved. The couples in unrealistic relationships put aside their fears and feelings, and compromised their beliefs in order to live the romances portrayed in the movies. She knew there were certain people that weren’t meant to have that life – the one every girl wished for with the knight in shining armor and the perfect house and beautiful family. She’d had that possibility in her future, and she’d chosen to let it go in order to explore other paths life could offer her. The only thing that she could wish for was a definite plan for the future, but she now knew that not knowing was part of the beauty of her choice of freedom. She was growing accustom to the exquisite chances and opportunities that independence gave her. She was young, and while she knew that their love had been strong, she felt the pull of the world’s opportunities stronger. She had never wanted to hurt him, but in making her choice, she did. She wasn’t sure that she’d ever pick a permanent path in her life, but the freedom to decide was her greatest relief.
She looked down at her watch, and realizing she had an hour before her afternoon presentation, she got up to leave. Again, she noticed the missing crystal, and not the time. If it was a year ago, the one missing crystal from her watch would have driven her insane. She would have hated it, one lone flaw. It would have caused her to stop wearing the watch. But these days, the single imperfection didn’t bother her so much.
She looked down at her watch, again. There was a circle of crystals which encompassed the face of the watch., complimenting the silver band. She couldn’t help but notice that just one crystal was missing. It was easier to focus on the solitary imperfection of the watch, rather than read the actual time. If she ignored the time, she could ignore the fact that she’d been waiting for quite awhile.
She exhaled hard, and her golden-brown bangs lifted from her brow briefly. They fell back down, disheveled across her forehead, so long that they nearly touched her eye lashes. She looked down at her hands, small and pale, clenched around each other in her lap. She’d already had one cup of coffee, and if it had been a year ago, she would have ordered another. Lately, she’d been drinking one cup a day.
The café where she sat was one that she visited quite often, lately. She came there to read on Friday nights and Sunday mornings because she never had anything else planned anymore. Sometimes, her friends would call and ask her to go to breakfast or lunch, but normally she’d spend her weekends and week nights alone. Her life was becoming solitary, and she had no one to blame but herself.
The grey clouds moved so quickly in the sky, an unavoidable reminder that time was passing by.
She knew that it was a long shot when she called him. The pain in her heart was unbearable when he was surprised that it was her voice on the phone – she knew he had deleted her from his contact list. Who could blame him? She had deleted him from her life. That pain quickly turned to shock and nerves when he agreed to meet her. She hadn’t expected that.
But here she was, waiting for him. He was late, and disappointment began to sink over her, just in the way it probably sank over him that day. She closed her eyes, and could see it – it would be imprinted in her mind forever. The leaves had become crisp and orange, and the warmth leftover from the summer air had disappeared. She remember how his face had crumpled in the same way that the leaves did when you stepped on them, and that his eyes had began water out of anger and betrayal. He had trusted her, and she had let him down. She had made a promise and a commitment to him, and she ruined it all that day.
She’d given up looking at the door twenty minutes before, so when it opened and he walked in, she didn’t see him until he was standing at the table, right in front of her.
She lost her breath for a moment, and took a good look at him. She hadn’t expected him to look so much older. His hair was cut short, instead of the boyish shaggy cut he used to wear. The collar of his plaid flannel shirt just barely grazed the two or three day old scruff that grew on his face. The only part of him that was familiar to her was his eyes – blue as ever – but even they were icy cold instead of the warm ocean that she used to see.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she responded. She shivered a bit, shocked to hear her own voice.
“Sorry I’m late. I had some trouble finding the place. I’ve never been here before.”
“No, don’t be sorry. It’s alright. I’m just glad that you came.”
She didn’t fail to notice the cliché that was their conversation. It was the same one that was written into all those romantic comedies that she rented on Friday nights when she was alone in her apartment. The ones that never used to make her sad, but these days made her cry like someone who had never been in love but longed to. She’d had that love. Not one that was perfect, but one that was real. One that involved fights and compromises, joy and pain, and so much laughter that even the bad times made her smile. One that was gone now.
A waitress came over to the table, and he ordered a cup of coffee, black. Even the way he took his coffee had changed. She remembered all those times that she’d ordered for him - cream and two sugars.
He cleared his throat, waiting for her to speak. She knew she should - she was the one who asked him here after all, but it was like suddenly all those words that she thought about saying to him in the last year were erased from her memory, and all that was left was the feeling of guilt that she’d carried around with her every day since the last time she’d seen him.
“I’m sorry,” She hated the simplicity of the words that couldn’t begin to match the complexity of feelings that she felt.
“Stop. I’m finally to the point where I’ve had to realize that there has to be a reason beyond you decision for all of this. And if you continue you apologize, I’ll be right back where I was, blaming you. It’s not your fault.” His voice cracked in the middle of that last statement.
Her nose started to tingle and she felt that dreadful sting in her eyes. He was so unconvincing. There was still so much hurt in his eyes, and he sounded so rehearsed, like maybe the reason he was late was because he had sat in his car, looked in the mirror and practiced what to say. Maybe she should have done the same. Maybe then she wouldn’t have teared up because of his words.
“I, uh, wanted to tell you…I’m moving next month.” It was the first time he’d looked her in the eye since he’d walked in the door. She was shocked.
“Wow…I mean…why? No…I mean, um, where?”
“Back out to the west coast. I think I’ve had enough of the New York winters…”
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s great.”
“Yeah. It’s time to go back home.”
She tried to take it all in as he went onto explain that he got a job offer back in San Francisco, but the words “it’s time to go back home” just circled around in her head, a merry-go-round that was all wrong. New York wasn’t his home anymore.
At that point, there was no chance in saving her pride, so she swallowed what was left of it, and reached for her bag. She opened the flap, and grasped for the small, black velvet box. She put it down on the table, and pushed it across to him.
“Here,” It was the only word she could muster.
She’d done the one thing that could break his brittle exterior. His jaw tensed as he took the box in his hand, rubbing his thumb across the soft velvet. It was as if holding it for just a moment brought back every memory he’d tried so hard to block from his mind. Ever so suddenly, he stuck it in his pocket, as if he couldn’t handle the flood of memories.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He looked down at his watch, and said he should get going, that he had somewhere to be soon. He said that he was glad he came, and that he’d seen her before he left for California. She agreed with him. He slid his chair back, and stood up.
“Bye, Frances.”
As she watched him walk out the door, she knew it would be the last time she’d see him. She didn’t regret her decision. She knew that she had the life that she chose. She had a job, and an apartment, and a dog, and her freedom. She only hated the pain that they both experienced from it. It wasn’t really fair, how she managed to tare both of their lives to shreds. She spent months struggling over if it had been the right decision, and now she finally knew..
She hoped that maybe one day she’d hear that he had gotten married to some beautiful, smart, kind girl. He deserved to be happy, just as she did. Seeing him made her realize how wrong those movies were. People talked about scars from the past, but the truth is that sometimes the wounds were so deep that the only choice is to stitch them up and wear bandages for the rest of your life. Relationships ended in gory messes which sometimes never even started to heal. The unrealistic relationships put aside their fears and feelings in order to be with someone. They forgive the unforgiveable, and they compromise their beliefs. She knew there were certain people that weren’t meant to have that life – the one every girl wished for with the knight in shining armor and the perfect house and beautiful family. She’d had that possibility on her horizon, and she’d chosen to let it go. The only thing that she wished for was to have a better reason why she’d chosen this path. She had never wanted to hurt him, but she did. She wasn’t sure that she’d ever figure out what she wanted, but the freedom to decide was her single relief.
She looked down at her watch, to see how much longer she had before she needed to get back to work. Again, she noticed the missing crystal, and not the time. If it was a year ago, the one missing crystal from her watch would have driven her insane. She would have hated it, one lone flaw. It would have caused her to stop wearing the watch. But these days, the single imperfection didn’t bother her so much.
Nineteen years ago I was brand new -
White and flawless, so huggable
With an innocent stitched on smile.
My short fluffy hair begged for childlike fingers to touch me,
To love me.
In her arms I was completely comfortable
And she was comfortable with me,
Only me.
We were best friends from the very start, inseparable.
And when we were apart, time was agonizing.
When her bright, wide, glassy eyes stared into mine
She saw the beauty in the sea of hard. black plastic.
The years whipped past like a book’s pages in a windstorm.
As time turned her flawless youth into a tumultuous life
The treachery of the real world was mimicked in my white fur
Becoming a dreary grey, sticky and stained from tears.
And there were other best friends, who taught nothing good -
Nothing smart, nor kind.
More time passed and she forgot that I brought comfort and love,
And all our days were spent apart.
Now, when she looks at me with her faded blue eyes
She understands that the world is as hard as my black, plastic eyes.
The waves embrace the stranded shore;
She stands without him anymore.
Each step she takes keeps them away
The fears of life that always stay.
It is not brave to live alone
With no real place to call a home
A life to lead needs souls to share
The memories that keep us there.
We all must be courageous men
To live our lives including them,
The fears of life that always stay -
The ones that take our breath away.
