flawed

Silently in the café that we always used to go to together, I wait for him. My mind runs wild with crazy thoughts but on the outside, I hold a calm and put together expression and stance. I stare at my coffee swirling as the unstable table wobbles when workers rush past. I think of the table, it’s placed on the wonky tiled floors, wobbles at the slightest of movement, and is the most difficult table to tolerate. Out of all tables in this whole café, I always choose this one. Why? Why choose to sit at the worst table in the café when there are a dozen other seats free? Well to answer that, I don’t know. Maybe I like the challenge, maybe every time I sit at this table I expect it to be fixed, maybe I enjoy the uniqueness of this singular table, maybe I don’t want to make the table feel left out or lonely as it longingly waits, watching the couples, families and singles pass it by, waiting for just one person to choose it.

 Although the table has its floors its my favourite. It’s the only baby blue table that has tiny little daisies painted on the surface, it’s in the best location that overlooks the ocean but still allows you to look at the streets below, and it’s the table I always sit at with him. I stare some more at my once hot coffee with a pretty leafed pattern that has now melted away deep into the cup. The table, that others might see as a tacky, old, broken, wonky table, to me is the most beautiful table of all. I cherish the table more knowing it’s my table, the table avoided by all customers because it’s seen as flawed, is the table I consistently choose to sit at every Thursday morning with a hot coffee before work. But most importantly, it is the table he joins me at every Thursday. 

This broken table that I cherish dearly, reminds me of him. Flawed, hated, unwanted, and lonely, but beautiful and unknowingly loved, with more potential then it- he knows. I love this table, the same way I will forever love him. 

The past 4 Thursdays I have sat at this broken table alone. hoping for him to join me, but deep down in my heart I knew he just needed space and time. Deep down in my heart I knew that the relationship we once shared together, the conversations on Thursday mornings across this poor table about the deeper meaning of life, the future plans we discussed together, the random business schemes we’d shared with each other over breakfast muffins, that we had randomly thought of at 2am, deep down in my heart I knew these were the plans and conversations he would now be having with a new version of me. 

This realisation, the deep down knowing, tore apart at my soul, the person I stood by for the past few years, defending and loving and despite his many flaws, I was always there for him. So, one last Thursday morning I sit waiting for him to arrive. I know he’s coming because he messaged me to meet him, but despite the excitement I feel to finally see him after a whole month of no contact, I push it down and it is overpassed by the anxiousness I feel knowing what the outcome of this conversation might be. But I sit at the wonky flawed table that I will forever love and am willing to fight for us, for the last time.

I zone back into reality and take a sip of my ice-cold coffee, looking across the ocean waves patiently waiting for his arrival, and of course, there he is. I look up at him standing on the opposite side of the table, small genuine smile that I can’t push away sits planted on my face. I gesture to him to sit take a seat in the chair Infront of me, he does. with this silent interaction, I feel the smile gradually slip away. We sit there in complete nothingness, gazing at the ocean and then at the table, awkwardly locking eyes in between glances. I eventually find the courage within my anxious self to lean slightly forward, “hey!”.

Did he hear me? Am I being ignored at my own table? No, he mustn’t have heard me.

“hey” I repeat, he looks over, then back at the water for 0.6 seconds and then turns back to me releasing a deep breath, “hey.”

I can see it now, as much as I wish I could fight, there is not a single sign of love left in his eyes when he looks at me. This was his test, to see if he could still see something in me and evidently, he cannot. 

We sit in silence for another 15 minutes until I finally break, “I think it’s time we both moved past this, whatever this is. I wish you the best” I sigh, with a small, forced smile. I slide out of my chair picking up my jacket and hugging it in my arms. I stand there beside the table, and look at it for a second, then glance at him, part of me hopes he will stand and hug me farewell for one last time, but once again, deep down I know it will not happen and a hug cannot re kindle the spark he once had for me. 

I stride towards the water down where the table overlooks and walk along the sand. I take my shoes off and feel the sun begin to fade away, heavy clouds slowly creep above me and it begin to rain. I don’t walk to my car to avoid getting wet, I just stand on the beach, blankly in the rain. For the first time in a very long time, I cry.

 A decision was made that day, I would never sit at that flawed table again as every time I see past its flaws it always managed disappoint me, this is the same with him. I would never see him again, as despite how even through his worst I loved him unconditionally, I was always left empty handed and the unconditional love I had for him never going to be reciprocated no matter what I did.