He wanted us to meet at the furthest cafe away from her house, which made my heart pump twice as much blood. As the puddles were ruining my heeled boots, questions were echoing in my brain. One of them, more specifically why, doubled in size, until I could hear it everywhere; in the swish-swish of the cars rushing past me on the street, in the bla-bla-blas of the people sharing the curb with me, in the splash-splash of the vicious drops drowning my boots.
I checked the time on my phone while still keeping it in my trench coat’s pocket, shielding it from the weather. I could not afford to be late. Almost in spite of it, the screen told me I was half an hour early.
I passed a corner, and I found myself in front of the sign I had been checking for on Google Maps the whole week. I opened my phone again, I stared at the picture on the screen, and then I stared at the real life sign hung above the door. I was in the right place. More like I was in front of the right place, so I took a deep breath, then I took another one, then I tried the breathe-hold in-release technique my therapist had practiced with me during the past sessions, and I walked in.
The clock on the cafe’s wall shook hands with the time on my screen, and I heard their laughter, still twenty five minutes early, loser. The ‘loser’ part bothered me more than the twenty five minutes.
I tried to ignore the recurrent thought of everyone’s eyes being on me, and I focused on the empty table at the back of the cafe; as I made my way towards it, I could not ignore its intimate nature, the way the round table was narrow enough for two heads to meet, and the chairs close enough for two pairs of knees to blush. I swallowed hard.
As I dropped on one of the seats, I put my phone on the table, and I checked the time again. I arranged the trench coat at the back of the chair; looking down at my lap, I pleated my skirt, and I bent to wipe away with my fingers some stray mud spots that had stuck on my boots. I tapped on my screen again, throwing a guilty look over the time, and I opened the camera app, turning it to the selfie mode. My hands arranged my hair;
I tired curling it behind my ears, but it made me look like too much of a good girl. That had only brought me the last place at the table usually, including the very situation I was finding myself in this particular cafe. So, no. I tried moving my hands under it, to give it volume, or a sense of wild, but that only made it seem unwashed, and with the humidity in the air, I actually looked like I had been electroshocked.
Well, wonderful.
I ran my fingers through my hair in a last attempt to tame it, and I managed to give it a decent look, but I knew I would never represent a fair competitor. Although, my brain deluded me, why are you even here in the first place? As further away as possible as this town permits, as far away as you can get from her?
My hands rushed to the sticky menu resting on the table, with thirst for coming back to reality. I skipped the pages about soft drinks, and I skimmed through the coffee section. Latte, no, cappuccino, no, espresso, very big no, the last thing I needed was even shakier hands.
My eyes stopped on the much tempting Irish coffee with cream. The waitress had spotted me, and as she came to my table, I pointed towards the drink on the menu page while trying to steady my finger. She nodded, and left me checking the time.
Just as the thought of What does he want from me today? and its half-twin What if it is exactly what I’m afraid it is? were competing for more of my attention, the doorbell did its tinkle!, and my eyes rushed to the entrance. It could have been anybody, but I knew it was him.
It was.
It was! So, what now?
I swallowed quickly, before he had a chance to spot me, and I checked the time again; as I did, I realized by then it was already unnecessary. When my eyes went back to him, he had seen me, and he was heading towards the back of the cafe where I had unconsciously picked the most intimate of all tables.
‘Hello, hello! Thanks for meeting me today!’
I swallowed again, this time fully self-conscious, and I rose to meet his open arms. I felt his strong palms resting on my back for less than one second, and I breathed in the perfume I had helped him pick a few months ago, because it said in the commercial that it made women swoon for your body; I remembered trying to ignore the slightly sexist message, and focusing on assuring him she would love it.
‘No problem. I was free, anyway.’
My stomach did that thing where it seemed to crumple worse than a crinkled piece of paper thrown in the waste bin. My mind played calendar, and tried to recite all the upcoming deadlines, unread emails, and due presentations.
‘Glad to hear, I really needed to speak to you. What are you getting?’
‘Oh’, I pointed towards the waitress that was heading down to our table. ‘I already ordered a coffee, I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you.’
He waved as if nothing. The waitress placed the cup in front of me, and I started to mix its contents, hoping it would become drinkable soon. It was the Irish in it that I was craving, not the coffee.
‘So... why not our usual cafe? It is quite far from where you live, too.’
He pointed something on the menu to the waitress, and then his eyes met mine, and he smiled at me with that vicious ease; my chest tightened, and I swallowed again. I felt as though someone has slaughtered me; although, with my breath not cooperating, and my constant dry mouth, even slaughtering seemed like the better option.
‘I thought you guessed that.’
I had; but as my hands nearly couldn’t grab the mug’s handle without spilling the coffee, I hoped that my intuition, for once, could be wrong.
‘I’m not sure this time.’
‘I can’t take any chances that Kira might find us, or hear us speak.’
Breathe-hold in- release. Repeat.
‘Right’, I tried my coffee, and moved on past the burn. ‘But, why? We’ve never done that before.’
My palms squeezed the mug to the point where the tips of my fingers became red.
‘I’m planning to marry her.’
I was about to swallow, but I felt like I didn’t have a throat anymore. I think I just stared; I’m not sure if towards him, or past him, or if I actually stared at all.
‘Milda? Please, say something. I’ve been waiting to tell you about it, you’re the first person to know.’
I left my hands fall on my lap.
‘I’m-...’ my voice struggled to come out, and when it did, it sounded like two iron pieces were being rubbed together. ‘I’m very happy for you, guys.’
I dug my nails into my palms as hard as I could under the table.
‘I think it’s the right thing to do.’
I pressed my nails harder, until I was afraid they might break, until I started to wonder whether there was blood.
The waitress brought his coffee. His eyes pinned mine, and as much as I wanted to break free, he chose not to let me. I realized it could have been one of the last times he chose not to let me, now that things were becoming so official with Kira.
My heart started to run a marathon, and my mind threw darts at me; marriage is not the only way of becoming official; what do you call long term relationships? What do you call what he already has with her?
I swallowed, and in three big gulps I finished my coffee. I had never drunk a shot so fast, so I hoped I would not feel sick before I reached my car.
My car-... How was I supposed to dr-...
‘Milda, you and I both know you don’t actually think it’s the right thing to do.’
I could not read his eyes this time; my intuition guessed amusement, but also a dash of inquiry. He was testing me.
I rose while I still had it in me to do it, and I nodded towards him.
‘Best of luck to you and Kira.’
I moved past him, but he caught me by the sleeve, and rose as well. We were facing each other at a distance that made me want to carve more red semi-circles in my palm with my nails. I tried to resist the urge of biting my lips, and I struggled to keep them from shivering.
‘Milda.’
‘What do you want from me?’
And then he crossed all the boundaries I had thoroughly built throughout the years when he leaned in and kissed me on the mouth without doubting for a second that I might have rejected him; I couldn’t tell whether his lips were dry or soft, or if his breath smelled like coffee or mint, or maybe if his eyes or mine had been opened. He straightened up with the same half-amused, half-inquisitive sort of smile.
I had failed the test.
‘You, um, you can’t do this now.’
‘And could I do it before?’ his smile turned into a grin.
‘Is my situation funny to you?’
I took a step back, and my vision blurred out for a couple of seconds. There were so many variables at play that I could not indicate which one had caused it.
‘What exactly is your situation?’
I crossed my arms.
‘Why are we having this conversation right now? Is this the real reason for meeting me at a cafe where your fiancé can’t find us?’
‘Well, Milda, we’re having this conversation because I’m planning to kiss you again.’
‘Oh, right, so you’re just assuming that I’m all right with everything just because.’
He sipped his coffee with an ease that made my hands twitch at the thought of wrapping them around his neck.
‘My marrying Kira has nothing to do with kissing you.’
I opened my mouth with my heart throbbing to the point of throwing up, but then I refrained from whatever I was going to say.
‘Yes, I see you considering it. You know what I’m suggesting you. Think about it.’
I clenched my teeth while several thoughts sprouted in my brain. Being a good girl usually brought me the last place at the table, and this was no exception. I forgot I had my nails done, and I started biting one of them.
‘No’, I shook my head slowly, eyes lost somewhere in the background. ‘No, I’m not going to be anyone’s miserable escape, if you wanted to kiss me, you should’ve done it years ago. And, yes – you could’ve done it before.’
I rose, this time for good.
‘Well, I’m glad to hear that, because I don’t intend to make you my miserable escape, not even my escape in general; how about I start by telling you I wasn’t going to marry Kira in the first place. That’s why I came to the cafe today.’
Standing as I was, my shoulders seemed to fall out of the tension. His eyes held mine for a short while, and this time it felt like none of us chose to let go, so I took my seat once again. I opened and closed my mouth like a fish.
‘I rather think the right statement is Kira won’t marry me, because she said even if you and I meet once every couple of weeks to fill each other in, I still come home with a glow on my face that I never have when I’m spending time with her; and it made me think. Not to mention that I’ve never seen you skipping any of these ‘check-in’ meetings, or that you’ve never said no to me; not even when I kissed you without any warning.’
‘So you realized Kira wasn’t good enough because she wasn’t such a yes-man?’
‘I realized Kira wasn’t good enough because she wasn’t you; we broke up this morning. It was mutual. If you ask me, she always had a thing for her co-worker, anyway’, he tried to wink at me to blow the unease away.
I felt my head light, and spinning a little bit, so I tried breathing slowly with my lips parted.
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying, let’s start over. Let’s do what we were supposed to do years ago when I first met you on the school benches. Let’s date. Let’s see where that goes’, he exhaled, and he crossed his fingers together in a fist. ‘It would be very funny now if both Kira and I misread the situation, and your answer is no.’
‘Yes’, I replied quickly, but it was more of a whisper, and I shook my head. ‘I can’t say no to you, remember?’
‘Then let’s get out of here, and really talk things out’, his full smile made my shy smile bloom a little more.
As our shoes tapped away outside, I stopped without warning, and I suddenly threw up on the curb the Irish coffee and all the mixed feelings I had held inside for years.
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2 comments
Great response to the prompt with all that vivid body language! Your detailed descriptions were wonderful. I was totally thrown off track though, when he said, « I’m planning to marry her »… Was that intentional?
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Thank you so much!! I’m so glad you enjoyed it :) Yes, it was intentional, ahaha, I wanted to throw my main character off track as well :)
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