A Reunion

They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops. What they don’t say, is when you meet your ex-boyfriend in the middle of a flower market while wearing day old make-up and a threadbare “Pluto revolve in peace” sweatshirt, time grinds to a halt and rewinds at rapid fire speed, drenching you in memories like a bucket of ice water.

The flower market was devoid of its usual freneticism that morning, which should have been the first clue that my day was going to be anything but ordinary. ‘Leo’s Flower House’ was the most popular flower market in the city. People flocked from miles around for the chance to pick the freshest, most unique varieties. It wasn't unusual to see a line weaving around the block. The fact that I was able to walk through the doors without squeezing past a sea of impatient customers was unheard of. 

I strolled past the vases of radiant tulips, the heaps of freshly cut red and yellow roses, and the effervescent pink carnations spilling out of large brown bags, breathing in the aromatic scent that only flowers could provide. I located my destination at the back of the room, where peonies stood in large white buckets, a variety of pinks and whites, all curled into tight balls waiting for their moment to burst forth in a deluge of petals. I began the meticulous process of picking out the best ones, so absorbed in my task that I didn’t see him approaching until it was too late.

It was his jacket that caught my attention first. Bright yellow with two black stripes on the sleeves, he looked like a bee ready to pounce on any one of these beckoning flowers as he entered my field of vision. I’d recognize that piece of clothing anywhere. My breath caught in my throat and I froze. Suddenly, I was back in college running with him through the woods behind our freshman dorm. He was always in far better shape than I, and it was the neon hue of his jacket that saved me from getting lost in the thicket as he raced ahead. Seeing him wearing it now… it was as though time hadn’t passed at all.

Turning my attention to him, we made eye contact for the first time in five years. I blinked rapidly a few times in disbelief- if I did it enough, he would disappear. This wasn't really him. A doppelgänger, surely? Or a dream that I would wake up from at any moment? We attended school on the opposite side of the country, he was from a small town in the Midwest, and there were millions of cities in this country, so there was no reason for him to be standing in front of me holding a large bouquet of blush colored roses.

He spoke first. “Hey.” The timbre of his voice sounded lower, or perhaps it had just been so long since I’d heard it. “I thought it was you I saw from over there. Had to come over to be sure, though.” The right corner of his mouth turned up into the crooked smile I had once loved.

I gave a weak laugh and tried to speak. My mouth felt numb, dry. My heart pounded a strange rhythm against my chest. I was still trying to comprehend the person standing in front of me. “Hi,” I managed to croak. I sounded about as confident as I felt. 

Daniel stepped out of the aisle and walked towards me. I could see the concern in his brown eyes as he drew closer. They were darker than I remembered. Warmer. 

He cocked his head to the side. “Sam? You okay?”

Time caught back up to the present, pulling my brain out of the fog. I swallowed the cotton in my mouth. “Yeah! I’m fine, I just… didn't expect to see you of all people here.” 

In truth, I had never expected to see Daniel again. Over the years, I envisioned what a meeting with him might entail if we ever found ourselves face to face- all the things I would say- but I had never expected it to come to fruition. Certainly, my hypothetical scenario didn’t include me wearing a faded hoodie and yoga pants.  

Daniel chuckled. “Yeah, I honestly didn’t expect to bump into you here either. What are the odds? But I’m glad to see you.” He sounded genuine. 

Regaining my composure, I stood up a little straighter, clearing my throat. “So, what brings you here? And to Leo’s of all places? I figured you might have stayed in Atlanta after school. Did you move?” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He shook his head. “No, I actually live in North Carolina now, near Raleigh. And to answer your first question, we’re here visiting.” He must have seen the perplexed look on my face because he continued, “My girlfriend and I. She grew up here. Her folks live a few blocks away and they mentioned this place has the best flowers.” He held the bouquet up as if to prove his point.

The pounding in my chest resumed, and the palms of my hands felt tingly, as though there were a million tiny ants running across. It wasn't the result of jealousy or pain at hearing Daniel’s news- on the contrary- I was happy for him. The anger and malice I once felt towards him had dissipated several years ago. He would cross my mind on occasion and I would fondly remember our time together, but that was that. Time had washed my emotional palate clean. However, there was no denying that jarring feeling upon hearing that my first love had officially moved on. It was a tiny pinprick in the heart, a slight ache in the chest. Although I was plainly aware that both of us would eventually date other people, to hear it voiced out loud… it was a feeling I couldn't explain.

In spite of this, I flashed a quick smile and motioned towards my growing bouquet. “Her parents are correct- nothing beats Leo’s. And that sounds like a lovely vacation. How long have you two been together?” 

“Two-and-a-half years.”

“That’s great! Congratulations.” I hoped I came across as sincere. “Are the flowers for her?”

He nodded, “Pink roses are her favorite, so I thought they’d be a good choice. What are you buying for?”

Trying not to dwell on the fact that he had never once bought me flowers during our time together, I told him about my best friend Sarah. She was getting married next month, and, as the maid of honor, I was in charge of planning her bachelorette party. Before I knew it, I was rambling. “It’s going to be a high English tea garden theme. I thrifted so many different china patterns, and there will be, like, six different finger sandwiches, and I spent a week learning how to make petit fours-” I stopped and placed my animated hands back down to my sides, feeling the heat creeping up my face. “It’s going to be perfect.”

Daniel was trying not to laugh, his mouth puckering in attempt to hold it in. “If you’re the one planning it, I know it will be. You were always the ‘Type A’ student in school.” He winked- not in a flirtatious way, but in one that conveyed a warm fondness, an inside joke between two friends. 

I opened my mouth to retort, but a customer squeezed her way between the two of us, bringing me back to reality. I looked around to see that the store was busier now, back to its quintessential self. Daniel must have seen it too, and we both spoke simultaneously:

-“I should probably”-

-“Do you want to grab a coffee?”-

I paused mid sentence, unsure how to respond. On one hand, I was cautious. Would it be smart to go with him? A coincidental run-in was one thing, but coffee? Would his girlfriend be upset if she found out? 

On the other hand, I was intrigued. This was my chance to find the closure I had been desperate for five years ago- so many burning questions I never thought I would get the answers to. I wasn't interested in reliving the past, but perhaps this might be an opportunity to permanently seal the patched-up holes in my heart.

“It’ll be quick, I promise.” His eyes spoke in earnest. “There’s this quaint little place down the street that has great cappuccinos. Just a cup or two while we catch up. You’re still a caffeine addict, right? Three cups a day?”

Well, in that case. “Let’s make it four.”

We sat across from each other in a tiny booth at the back of the coffee shop, our flower bouquets resting on the windowsill. A ‘quick’ conversation turned into an hour, and any doubts I may have had disappeared by the second cup of coffee. He was true to his word- it was delicious. 

My forced posture quickly melted away and my face softened as we eased into comfortability. Our waitress might have assumed we were two friends catching up after a few months apart. He cracked jokes, I rambled, and we quoted from the old Hollywood movies we used to watch in film class. You would never have imagined that the last time we spoke was during a transcontinental phone break-up.

Our relationship ended the spring of our junior year- the semester when he studied abroad in Italy. As a stressed out nursing student I felt distressed (and jealous) to lose him, but that escalated into full despair when, a few weeks into the trip, he gave me a call that changed my life forever. 

Naturally, I asked him about his time in Europe.

“It was amazing,” he admitted sheepishly. “I got lost on a trip to Milan and ended up on a train to Naples instead. My friends and I hiked the Matterhorn, and I swam in the Dead Sea. My mom and sister flew out to visit and we spent a weekend in Paris.” 

“My cousin and I are actually planning a trip to Italy next year. Any recommendations?”

Daniel thought for a moment. “Skip Venice. Spend a few extra days in Florence instead, and check out the Uffizi Gallery. You’ll love it.”

We checked boxes off the list of usual conversation topics. I shared stories of my nursing school days: pulling all-nighters, starting IVs on my classmates between classes, how I almost passed out during my first OR rotation. 

“In my defense, it was a facial reconstruction surgery and I didn't eat breakfast that morning!” 

He held his hands up in defense. “Hey, I most definitely would have passed out.” 

I told him about my dad’s cancer treatment, how I had turned down my dream job to work closer to him. I showed him pictures of the baking creations that I had successfully turned into a side hustle. I described my favorite yoga poses, the places I’d traveled, the satisfaction I felt after running my first 5k last year. 

Daniel listened intently, fully engrossed in my storytelling. He would smile and nod appropriately, but he let me speak freely. In a way that I couldn’t have anticipated, it gave me a sense of pleasure to share the information with him. There was no bragging, no ego involved, and yet, I wanted him to know that I was proud of the person I had become- my book didn’t stop simply because our chapter ended.

Taking a sip of my cappuccino, I passed the baton over to him. “Tell me what’s been going on in your life.”

He spoke about his parents divorcing shortly after our breakup, his newfound passion for coin collecting, and his beloved sister, who was newly married and living abroad with her husband. He stood up to his business-minded father and changed his major, finishing college with honors. He immediately began working on his PhD in philosophy, and was set to present his dissertation in a matter of months.

“That’s amazing. Congratulations, truly. I always knew you’d find your way back to Aristotle and Socrates.” 

The years had been good to him- gone was the capricious, erratic youth stuck inside his head, always struggling between obligation and passion. When I knew him, he was constantly fighting an internal battle, and I had tried my best to heal the self-inflicted wounds. I used to think of him as a helium balloon constantly trying to float away, and I was the weighed anchor bringing him back down to reality. I often worried that I couldn’t do enough for him. It comforted me now to hear that he followed his heart and sought happiness within himself rather than his father’s expectations.

It was in one of his discussion classes that he met Anna, his girlfriend. She was a few years younger, but, according to him, had more opinions about Plato than he ever could. He smiled wistfully and reached over to pat his flower bouquet. “Actually-” he paused for a second before continuing. “The reason I was at the flower shop… these roses… I’m uh, planning on proposing to her tonight.” His cheeks turned pink as he looked at me, waiting for my reaction. 

On hearing this revelation, a million emotions ran through my mind simultaneously. For years I had assumed my role as the victim of our breakup, but rather than dwell on the pain, I channeled it into strength. I was never given an answer to that eternal “why?” so I created my own and closed the chapter to that part of my life. I rose like a proverbial phoenix from the ashes, surmounted every obstacle in my path, and, yes, endured a few more break-ups along the way. I thought that our meeting today was the universe’s sign that I had earned the ‘real truth’ yet somehow during our conversation… it didn’t seem to matter anymore. We shared many happy memories together, and we had both come out stronger for it on the other side. We didn’t owe each other anything more. So, in spite of the multitude of emotions, I only focused on the one.

“Oh! That is the best news! I am so incredibly happy for you! Does she have any idea?”

He exhaled with relief while shaking his head. “Not a damn clue. I’ve hid it well. Her folks know though.” He shared his plan of taking her to her favorite pier, and popping the question at sunset. “Hopefully she says ‘yes.’”

“That depends- are you planning on wearing that jacket?”

His eyes danced with amusement. “Oh! That reminds me-” He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out a single yellow rose, the outside petals slightly rumpled. He handed it to me. “I grabbed it right before we left the market. I know I never bought you any during our time together so I thought…” He looked away in embarrassment. “Kinda cheesy, I know. But yellow is supposed to symbolize forgiveness, I think.” 

I lifted the rose to my nose. “And friendship.”

Before we knew it, the sun was lowering, casting a warm beam of afternoon light through the window. We stood up and collected our things, Daniel anxiously going over the proposal checklist out loud. “I have to finalize the plans with her parents, make sure the photographer is all set- oh, and change into a proper jacket.” He paid for our coffee and then surprised me by grabbing my hand. It felt warm, solid.

“Sam,” his voice shook ever so slightly. “I just- I wanted to tell you- I’m so glad we ran into each other. It was so good to see you, to talk. I think I really needed it.” 

I tried to paint a portrait in my mind of his appearance that day: he still had the same sharp nose and angular jawline, but it was now covered in stubble. He was no longer the baby-faced boy I once knew. His hair, which had always been somewhat unkept, was now short and tidy, army-style, already beginning to recede at the front. He was dressed in a light grey button-down with pants that appeared as though he had actually had them tailored. His once gangly frame had filled out. We were two different people now, two ships passing in the night.

“I’m glad too.” My voice caught slightly and I swallowed the golf ball in my throat. 

Daniel saw my expression. “Everything okay?”

I nodded.“Yeah, absolutely. You’re just… different is all. And I mean that in a good way,” I added, seeing him raise an eyebrow. 

He smirked. “Well,” he began jokingly, “You’re exactly the same.” His look changed to one I couldn’t quite pinpoint. “And I mean that in the best possible way.”

And there it was. My closure.

We hugged each other, the material of his sleeve scratching my cheek. It felt different hugging him now, but he still exuded that same familiar comfort. It was the proper goodbye we both deserved. 

I gave him a squeeze. “‘Here’s looking at you, kid.’” 

“‘We’ll always have Paris.’” he murmured.

It was a bittersweet end, the unexpected epilogue to the story. I watched him exit the shop my heart heavy. “Good luck!” I called after him.

He turned around, gave me one last wave, and walked away. The last glimpse I saw of him was that yellow jacket as it whipped around the corner. And then he was gone.