Decade Past

I knew it was her immediately. Years apart had changed her but—the fullness of her lips, the slight upward tip of her nose, her dark eyes—she was somehow the same woman nestled into a new shell. I sat quietly in my chosen corner of the dimly lit coffee shop, watching as she slowly made her way to the counter.

 I’d noticed her as soon as she’d stepped through the door, the bells chiming quietly with her entrance. She was short, her skin was a warm brown, tanned by the sun. Her head was shaved to her scalp—once it had been filled with tight, dark curls reaching out across her head like a halo. Her sense of style had clearly evolved with age, though she had always liked to dress up. Now she wore a long, flowing skirt. The base fabric was a bright red and it was covered in white and yellow floral print. Her top was sleeves and cream colored, with small embroidered flowers and brown beads around the neckline. Her skirt was tied in a knot at the bottom, showing a pair of slightly dirty white sneakers. Her small ears were offset by large dangling tortoise shell earrings and on her shoulder was a canvas tote bag with an abstract print on the front. She smiled and cocked her head at the barista who had asked her what she’d like to order.

“I’m not sure yet, actually. Could I have a second?” Her voice was smooth and low, like it had been years before, changed only slightly by age. She sounded more mature now, calmer somehow. She leaned back on one foot to look over the menu once more, then ordered just a drip coffee with room for cream.

I watched her intently as she made her way to the other end of the counter, leaning against the wall to wait for her drink. She pulled out her phone and began to tap at it. A moment later her coffee was ready, placed on the counter in an orange mug.

“Oh,” the barista said, “I forgot to ask if you wanted it for here or to go.” The barista seemed unsure of what to do next, glancing worriedly at the short line of people at the counter.

She smiled sweetly, picking up the mug. “I can have it for here, no worries.”

She made her way to a table at the other end of the coffee shop, sitting almost directly across from my line of sight. I sucked in a breath hoping she wouldn’t notice me. I still wanted a few moments to admire her alone. To my relief she pulled out a small book and settled in to read, checking her phone occasionally as she scanned the pages. Suddenly she saw something on her phone that made her laugh, loudly and with joyful force. Several people looked up from their laptops and she smiled apologetically at them. Her laugh took me back to the last time I’d seen her, almost a decade earlier.

The summer had been warm and sticky, filled with days cooling off in the lake and nights of hushed whispers and clinking beer bottles hidden by the shadows of the park. This particular day the weather had chosen to let up and she and I were sprawled out on a blanket underneath the shade of a large tree. The lake sparkled blue in front of us, the city just beyond it, glinting light off its skyscrapers. I watched as people on sailboats waded by a few hundred yards out from the shore. Although the sun shone and the sounds of summer surrounded us—laughter from small children, music from passing groups of cyclists—the day was tinged with melancholy. It hung in the air around us like a soft, hazy cloud. I rolled over to look at her, imagining for a moment that it wouldn’t be our last time seeing one another for the foreseeable future. She stretched her arms up above her head, letting a patch of sunlight dance across her fingertips.

“Why are you staring at me?” She teased, her lips stretching into a smile.

“How do you know I’m staring at you?” I asked, sitting up on the blanket. I adjusted the dress of my skirt, pulling it down from where it had ridden up my thighs. I pulled a hair tie off my wrist and tied my long hair up into a knot.

“Because I can hear when you breath in my direction.” She said matter-of-factly, opening one eye to look at me.

I laughed, leaning down and lightly touching my forehead to hers. “I don’t believe that. I think you just think I’m obsessed with you.”

“You are obsessed with me,” she stated, pushing herself up onto her elbow and resting her head in her hand. The sun glinted off her dark, coiled her, showing hints of red. I smiled as the soft light caressed her.  

“Well, you’re also obsessed with me, so it’s only fair.” I grabbed her hand, lacing my fingers through hers and sighed. We’d finished our senior year and walked across the stage at graduation before finally allowing ourselves this simple show of affection. Everyone at our school had assumed we’d been more than friends and even if they didn’t, there was the unspoken assumption we’d eventually become more. We’d kept our feelings for one another hidden for years before they’d finally slipped out one night, guided by the feeling of cheap wine and the crisp autumn air. We’d smiled, rolling over into the grass in a fit of giggles, before finding our way back at pecking one another on the lips.

“I have to leave early tomorrow morning, I probably won’t get to see you,” she said suddenly, pulling me from the sweet memory.

“I leave in the afternoon, so it’s okay.” I didn’t look at her as I said this and she sensed my apprehension, placing a hand on my knee and smiling at me sadly.

“We’ll be fine. Okay?” She sat up then, leaning against my crossed legs and kissed me softly on the cheek, then moving to my lips and letting hers linger there for a moment.

I sighed, pulling away and leaning my forehead against hers. “We will be fine. We’ll find our way back,” I said quietly.

An hour later, as the sun began to lower itself into the horizon, we had grabbed our bikes from the grass and taken off in opposite directions. Unknowingly saying goodbye for the next eight or so odd years.

I sat now, brought back to my seat in the coffee shop, startled by the barista asking me if I was finished with my now empty coffee cup. I handed it to her with a small smile and looked back at the table, searching for the girl I’d once loved, but she’d left.  

Fuck. I thought to myself. Frustrated with my constant lack of spontaneous action, I started to pack up my bag, stuffing my books and laptop in hastily. As I did this, I felt a light touch on my shoulder.

“Hey there,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear. I jumped again and turned to see her standing next to my table. “Long time no see. Didn’t expect to find you in my favorite coffee shop today.”

I stood up hesitantly and as I did she slowly wrapped her arms around my waist pulling me into her small, warm body. I inhaled deeply, noticing the changes in her body, her scent. I embraced her back, squeezing for a moment before releasing her.

“I’ve missed you,” I said quietly.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she said smiling.

She gestured to the chair across from me and I nodded for her to sit down. As we settled, she reached across the table, grabbing my hand, interlacing our fingers, pulling them to her mouth and kissing the back of them softly. A smile spread across my face and a sighed softly at the small, intimate gesture.

“Let’s catch up,” she said, and we leaned into the table, prepared to sit in each other’s light for a just a while longer.