A Parting Pair

Tabitha Wilson regretted not getting decaf and watched her coffee cool, worrying what numb nerves would do to her mental state with caffeine. Come to her senses, perhaps. But when the barista mentioned today's special Tabs felt that odd social anxiety of wanting to avoid disappointing their server - a stranger. Looking down into her cup, she felt her upper lip sweat from the steam of an untouched double-whipped something or other. At the very least, the blessed aroma of roast coffee beans captivated her; she could almost hear a smooth jazz ensemble complete the coffee shop experience. 

Her phone buzzed again. Tabs ignored it, pursing her lips for those whose work-life balance favored the former on an overcast Saturday morning. She did, however, enjoy a small smile as she shamelessly peeked at the texts from three different co-workers for her assistance come Monday. It helped reassure the young entrepreneur that her aptitude for software engineering warranted her place in the start-up. And it reminded Tabs that she did make the right decision. 

Well, the right decision seven months ago.

After a few texts of stroking her ego, Tabs checked Allison's last couple of messages:

Received:

'Hey Tabitha' - Odd for anyone, especially Allison, typing Tabs' full name - 'Sorry I didn't reply sooner. TBH, I didn't know what to say for a few days, so I put saying anything off. I'm sorry. I still don't know what I would say, but yeah, I'd like to have coffee with you. If you're still okay for tomorrow?'

Sent:

'Yeah, of course.' - Tabs took five whole minutes deciding whether or not to include the casual 'man' at the end of that sentence. 'I'll be at Weston's at 10. That cool?'

Received:

'As cucumbers.' 

Arriving thirty minutes early seemed less pitiful than an hour, but painful memories intruded her solace within the first five seconds of sitting down. The anger and hurt in their last in-person conversation dulled over the months - though Tabs' therapist believed she unconsciously suppressed the trauma - and the emotional scabs didn't itch as much as she expected they would. 

"What aren't you telling me?!"

"I thought you loved me!"

"Take your shit and your bull and go!"

The little bell on the door jingled. Tabs looked up to find a completely different person with Allison's face walking in. She stood up to greet her former lover, whose piercing eyes softened when she saw Tabs. 

"Hey," Allison said.

"Hey," Tabs answered. She pointed to the counter, "Can I get you something?"

Allison quickly, too quickly, waved her hands, "No, no, you don't have to get me anything. I think I shouldn't have any coffee before we talk." The two women shared skittish smiles, Allison pointing to their table to take her seat opposite Tabs, who felt silly for standing up to sit down again. 

Tabs cleared her throat, "Thank you for coming." Allison only nodded, more nervous than Tabs had ever seen her. Clearing her throat again, she continued, "You changed your hair."

Allison perked up, remembering she had hair at all. "Oh, right! Yeah, it was a pretty recent change." She fingered at the cropped crow-black hair, "What do you think?" Tabs loved it; she thought the sophisticated punk suited her.

"I love it, Allison; I'm glad you finally pulled that trigger - it works! It makes you look as tough as you are," Tabs' smile turned genuine.

"Ah, thank God someone likes it. Yeah, I know, right? Arnold didn't even recognize me at first - and ever since, he's treated me differently. I mean, how can someone forget to email me about a meeting when they've been automated for months?" Allison's confidence spoke as much as her body expressed, letting the misogyny roll off her shoulders with a smirk.

Tabs slipped, forgetting to avoid their familiarity, "Christ, really? Please tell me you threw HR at him."

Allison scoffed, "I'm doing you one better, hon; I'm vying for his job." That endearing mischievous smile, never malicious but a righteous and striking dark horse. A finger flicked, remembering to add, "Oh, but I am making it a point to tell any new female employee."

Tabs didn't notice how quickly and quietly familiarity returned, like slipping on a hoodie after a dryer cycle because a downpour caught you outside. They caught up on life, gossiped, and organically - or perhaps unconsciously - avoided discussing their breakup or dating others since then. She leaned in, eagerly listening to Allison's latest stories of how she took the world by storm and found that Allison, in kind, hung on every word as Tabs talked of the start-up's progress. Once or twice Allison didn't seem to notice when she used Tabitha's nickname. Tabs didn't comment. It came as a relief hearing her so comfortable. 

"God, it's good to see you, Tabs," Allison sighed. No remorse, no remembrance of their shared pain. "I'm really happy for you. I know the ex saying that typically doesn't mean it, but I'm glad you made your wings."

From Allison especially, hearing such validation meant everything, "I can't thank you enough for saying that." Every word came out breathless, but Tabs teased, "And for you to call a cliche, well, isn't that something?"

Rolling her eyes, Allison posed dramatically to assume the lead part in a romcom, "Oh my stars, why, if not for my misunderstood white himbo of a director writing such comedically artificial circumstances, then how could I ever find love in someone I just met seven days ago?" She spoke whimsically, the satire heavy in her batting eyelashes and pouting lips. Tabs forgot about everyone else in the coffee shop and laughed when Allison kept up the bit, "Mr. Woman Expert? Do you mean all I have to do to find love is take off my glasses, frivolously drink, and put out? What's that? My love interest betrayed me in a way that I can never forgive? Oh well! Nobody's perfect - let's just get married!"

Tabs jabbed, "Hey! Leave my movies alone; they're not all like that. You loved My Best Friend's Wedding."

Allison purred, "Oh, I did, and Julia Roberts..."

"Mm hm," Tabs agreed. Their reminiscing and fantasizing over Roberts slowed the rhythm of their conversation. It reminded Tabs why she asked Allison here, "Hey, mind if I be the bitch and bring up something unpleasant?"

Allison's smile became pained, "Sure, but can we," she stopped to take a shaky breath. "Can we keep acting like nothing happened? For just a few more minutes?" Tabs nearly folded. The frailty in Allison's voice scared her. 

Tabs nodded, unable to voice an affirmative, "Would you like some coffee now? Or tea? My treat?" Allison smiled her yes, and the two women made to get in line.

Allison pulled out her phone to fiddle with while waiting in line, more than likely to chuckle over an inappropriate joke but choked when she noticed the time, "We've been talking for over an hour?" She showed Tabs, and sure enough, the clock read 11:26 AM. Funny how the body could forget seven months of regret in so little time, if but for a brief lapse of happiness. 

Both women purchased a peached Arnold Palmer for the novelty but ordered a blueberry Danish to split in case the drinks tasted awful. Allison guzzled hers down, but Tabs could barely taste the peach. They bickered over who got the larger piece the pastry divided into, each humble and wanting the other to splurge for the few extra calories. They laughed after finding it too sweet for the both of them. 

Tabs didn't want this to end, no matter how it felt more like a date than a reconciliation, but Allison proved the stronger of the pair. She took a deep breath before admitting, "I know you're the one that asked me here, but I can't let you say anything without first telling you that I'm so sorry." Her head swiveled from side to side, "I'm so sorry, Tabs, for what I said and how awful I was to you then."

Tabs found her voice, "Allison-"

"Please, I need to..." Allison's voice quivered, the toughest person Tabs ever knew, and the transparent sincerity sounded so thin and fragile. Glass about to break. "I was the one who messed up. I couldn't- I didn't understand, and that made me mad. God, I yelled at you. I yelled at you." The pain gripping that last word made Tab's eyes mist; she thought this was the first time Allison admitted such a thing aloud. "Sorry doesn't cut it or embody how disgusting I feel, but I'm sorry, Tabitha."

Crossing a boundary, Tabs held a hand across the table, which Allison gingerly took, "There were two of us that yelled at each other. I'm sorry too." Allison sniffled her frown into a weak smile. "I regretted everything I said that night and how I acted. Reacted. Handled. I cried through three weeks of therapy just thinking about how I treated you - my therapist could barely get a word in Alli." Tabs broke, and Allison's tears replied in kind. They say people did this or that for ridiculous lengths of time, and though the two women cried quietly for a generous half minute, Tabs believed it equated to a good bit of seven months. 

After calming down and proving that Tabs needed to forgo eye makeup today, Allison cracked, "Look at us, two broken white girls in a coffee shop during autumn. And they don't even serve anything remotely pumpkin." Tabs gave her hand a reprimanding squeeze.

"Given that we already had a 'latte' emotions,"

"Eh, you could do better."

"I know, it was there - I wanted to say that while we're coming clean, I come completely clean." 

Wiping trace remnants of snot with her free sleeve, Allison nodded, "All right, I'm listening."

Tabs took in how the woman sitting across from her waited. Her brow knitted in concern, her posture hunched as she leaned over the table, and her hand's thumb gently massaged Tabs' wrist. Allison still loved her too. 

"There are two things I wanted to talk about, one being about your mom." Allison's hand recoiled from Tabs. "I know. I'm sorry, but she called me last week, and I wanted to be upfront about it. She's worried about you."

Allison crossed her arms, "Well, first time for everything, right?"

Tabs admonished, "Allison." The Bree's family tree long ago reduced to scattered kindling but during their relationship Allison and her mother somewhat reconnected. "She didn't do it to step on your toes, and she didn't give me specifics - she just asked if I could talk to you -"

"And parent/charity her kid where she couldn't?" Allison spat.

"And I wouldn't have asked you to coffee if I hadn't already been thinking about reaching out myself," Tabs' voice came out more stern than intended, but it poked Allison to drop her priss. "I wanted to for the past month. I always made excuses or said I'd do it later that night, and well..."

"It's hard," Allison validated.

"So hard."

"It's frustrating too. It feels like-" Allison rolled her eyes at the ceiling, "It felt like something was in the way whenever I thought about you - a wall, or maybe another me. I can't explain it."

"I thought of it as some weight - or one of those parachutes runners sadistically train with. It didn't just prevent me from moving toward you, but it wouldn't let me go anywhere else. I couldn't reach out or heal. I couldn't move." Allison took Tabs' hand back. Platonic but firmly supportive. "So when your mom reached out, it felt like a spur. A win-win, I guess."

Allison remained silent for a little while. Tabs recognized this particular computer's loading circle equivalent of an expression - upturned chin resting on the butt of a palm, lower lip swallowing its twin, and her eyes looking so far down Allison nearly closed her eyes. She twiddled at a strand of her hair while contemplating what she felt about her mother at the given moment. 

Tabs opened her mouth to speak, but coincidentally, Allison did too. After some unintentional mockery of the American Sign Language to see who talked first, Allison asked, "What did my mom want?"

Tabs shrugged, "She saw you were hurting... And that you wouldn't let anyone help you." Allison grumbled, but Tabs doubled down, "She'd never seen you like that, Alli. She couldn't think of what else to do."

Allison shrugged after a few trying exhales, "Moot now since we're here. I've got enough on my emotional plate to sift through. Best we keep ripping this sucker off." She made it a point to hold Tabs' gaze, "You said you had something else to get off your chest?"

Taking her turn of trying exhales, Tabs spoke quietly, "Yeah, I-" She took another deep breath. Allison gently squeezed her support. "I didn't do a good job telling you why I needed to leave. And you deserve to know why I put us through so much hurt."

Allison looked startled, "Tabs, you don't owe me anything. It's not your fault that I couldn't understand what you were saying."

"That's just it; I barely knew what I was saying. I told you I needed to get away. And it came out so wrong, Alli. But it was true. I just needed some time to fully comprehend what I was feeling."

"Okay," Allison breathed. It looked like she braced for a slap. Perhaps telling her this may feel more like a sucker punch to the gut. "I'm all ears." Tabs didn't know what rehearsed mental notes she would remember to use now, if any. She prayed that she could get it all out. 

"You are the brightest person in my life; I see you as a fire. Warm but so intense that you can do anything you want. And you were so real, Alli. You listened to everything I had to say." Tabs read Allison's smile as appreciative but curious about the direction of this monologue. "I didn't hold any secrets, and while I don't regret that, it did make it easier to see my reflection bounce off of you. And I didn't like what I saw. You are a fiery and righteous soul, and my reflection couldn't handle being confronted by you."

Allison, God bless her, couldn't hold it in anymore, "I-I didn't ever judge you. I was so proud of you for graduating - I don't..." Tabs gently squeezed her hand, and she returned to smiling silently. 

"I knew you were proud of me, and I will never forget those semesters of unwavering support. It's just I wasn't proud of myself, and I recognized I needed a change." Tabs held up a hand, "And before you ask, breaking up was not the change. I looked for opportunities for myself, and you know how I struggled. But then... I started to change how I presented myself in hopes of getting noticed, and only when I left a perfect interview did I look at myself in an elevator reflection and see you. Not me." Tabs let that simmer before wiping away a fresh slew of tears, "And you didn't do anything wrong, but I knew that it was unhealthy for me-" Tabs couldn't go on without speaking in choked sobs. "Unhealthy for me to become my partner. And so I got scared, and then the start-up, and then we..." 

Allison sank into her seat, taking it all in, but she didn't let go of Tabs' hand. "Jesus," she exhaled. "I mean, just, damn, Tabs."

Unable to find her voice between shaky breaths, Tabs' head felt heavier and bowed to the floor. The little voice inside her head didn't bother with words; it settled for bombarding her with sharp, intrusive toxicity that made her cringe and flinch. 

"Hon," Allison soothed. "Bring it back - that voice doesn't control you. And it certainly doesn't speak for me." Tabs looked up and found Allison lacking the anticipated spite and pain. "You're safe. We're okay, and that voice is always wrong, remember?" Reluctantly, Tabs nodded. She couldn't express her gratitude; it felt like a bolt of lightning trapped in a bottle.

"Thank you," Tabs said. "I just needed to tell you that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you, that you were hurting for the past seven months. I hope that this helped."

Allison nodded, "I think it does. At the very least, I understand. I'm sorry that I couldn't before."

Shaking her head, "We could volley apologies all day."

"I supposed we could," Allison chuckled. "I gotta ask, what did you want after this? With... Us?"

Tabs fell into the eyes of the women she still loved, but she couldn't bring herself to smile, perhaps not yet. "I don't think closure is the right word. Moving on sounds..."

"Sounds final?" Allison guessed.

"It sounds too linear. I don't know where I, or we, go." Tabs paused but then let spoke organically and would guess her feelings afterward. "I want there to be a platonic us, at least. And I want us to move; I don't know, forward even if the direction isn't forward. Does that make sense?"

"I'd like that. I want to heal. For us to heal," Allison's smile warmed the room. Tabs didn't know where the smile would lead or if it meant they would merge their paths again. For now, Tabs' relief felt like the surf washing over her feet in the sand, cool and refreshing. She felt her world sway without her moving at all. It felt discombobulating, but she felt invigorated when the wind blew through her hair, with Allison holding her hand beside her on the beach.