Katie

"Last night I dreamt that you killed me."

I tried to laugh, but my attempt was weak, and Kate wasn't convinced. She never seemed to be. 

"Y'know," she began, leaning back in her chair as if to get as far away from me as possible without just standing up and leaving, "when you invited me for coffee, that really wasn't what I was expecting you to start with." 

Naturally, she was defensive and I tried to backpedal. This had always been the yin and yang of our relationship.

"I just thought it might be an interesting ice breaker.” A lie, for the most part. I just knew the idea would make her uncomfortable. Admittedly, I was trying to get a rise out of the girl. I was testing her waters.

Not even I sounded convinced by this ice breaker idea, but I plastered on a smile as genuine as I could muster. To my surprise, Kate's demeanor seemed to actually soften. This was more than a rarity; I'd thought her ability to be kind had gone completely extinct. I could have sworn I saw it shot dead and pictured on her ex boyfriend's Instagram, held up by the horns and accompanied by a valiant smile. Or maybe that was just her virginity...

"Well, how did I kill you then?" she asked me as her softness retreated, leaning back in ever so slightly to reach her caramel macchiato. She hadn't taken a sip of it yet, she was too busy training her eyes onto me. The concept of her being a cold blooded killer hadn’t really crossed my mind before then, but the more I sat there and felt her study me, the more I became convinced it was a feasible reality. With a bead of sweat forming at my brow, I sucked in a breath. I weighed my options as I took a swig from my hot cocoa. I could tell her how she actually did kill me in my dream last night i.e. brutally stabbing me in the chest and face until I looked like a pile of ground beef, or I could try and pivot the conversation a little bit. In the spirit of being less argumentative, I chose the latter. 

"Listen-" I began, but she stopped me.

"I want to know now," she said, insistent that I give her all the gory details. 

"I don't want to give you any ideas, Katie," I sighed, yelping once I realized what I had done. My mouth met my drink again as I tried to gauge her reaction. Her face was unreadable. I definitely hadn't missed that. It was all behind her eyes, too deep for me to decipher. I could tell gears were turning, but never in which direction. Kate always made me feel lost somehow, maybe that's what they mean when they say "lost in your eyes.” I always pictured it feeling a little less like lost at sea Life of Pi style, and a little more like lost on white sandy beaches surrounded by turquoise waters with an umbrella drink in my hand but hey, go figure. 

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now," Kate replied smoothly, obviously not wanting to give me a reaction after I had slipped and called her Katie. If she wanted to kill me..?

Little did she know, she already had. 

I was beginning to regret this entire idea. I was stupid to think we could ever be together again, as friends or anything more. It was suddenly so obvious to me that Kate was still the same girl she always had been. She was cold and brutal. Somehow being killed by her in my head was far less damaging than sitting across from her in a coffee shop. Seeing her face. Hearing her. Smelling her perfume.

My mind was suddenly flooded with memories. I could see her holding my hand in the hallway at school, all while wearing my sweatshirt, could smell her cherry blossom shampoo in my teenage bedroom. I could feel her skin, hear her voice soft in my ears. See our very first date at the drive-in, and our last at my house ... while we put up Christmas decorations. I could see her tears glittering as they fell down her face, hear her footsteps crunching on freshly fallen snow as she left. My face stinging under the crisp December air that day, making my tears fall like hail, heavy and cold. Christmas never came that year for me, just a deep, dark winter. 

I stared at my coffee cup, defeated. Her eyes all over me, pricking me like needles. How could I have been so in love with Kate just years earlier, and now want nothing to do with her? I wondered if first loves were always like this, or if I had just been dealt a pretty shitty hand. Maybe some things were just meant to be short lived. We had been like a sunset, or a season finale, or an ice cream cone in July. When we were good, we were great. Yet the nagging in my brain, buzzing like a bee trapped in my skull, that things ended too early never seemed to quiet.

"Why won't you look at me?" Kate questioned, her voice even and calm. I knew if I spoke the lump in my throat would leap out like a frog. I shook my head gently as tears tickled the corners of my eyes. 

A moment passed, and I tried my best to breathe and calm the waves in my chest. I felt like the ocean was crashing within me, tears bubbling up through my body. My organs shuffled like ships in a storm as I felt my stomach push against my ribcage. Suddenly I felt sick. All I wanted to do was cry, and go back in time to tell myself not to do this. Don't call Kate and expect to get Katie back. You'll never see that same sunset, never enjoy that same ice cream cone. Maybe that's okay.

Kate's hand was suddenly on mine, stretched across the table between us. I looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, a singular tear sliding down my cheek. She was touching me, and I still felt football fields of space between us.

Her eyes, cool blue, not an emotion to be found in them. Calm, even waters. I was anything but. Her soft blond curls, her angular face. She looked so different and yet so the same. Sure, she was older now, but I still saw that girl that kissed me behind the bleachers, the girl I called Katie. I sat and stared at a woman that I loved, but a person that I didn't like at all. So, I told her the truth.

"You stabbed me," I finally choked out, pulling my arm back out of her reach. As I stood up and gathered my things, sloppily wiping at my wet cheeks as I did, she stared at me with a puzzled expression. 

"Wait-" Kate stood up as well, willing me to sit back down and explain myself. I could see she felt badly, but more for the fact that I was making a scene than my tears.

"I can’t ... You’re killing me," I said, swallowing another crashing wave of tears, hoping this time not to drown.