Let's Just See What Happens

On my sixteenth birthday, my grandfather gave me a coin.

“Found this on the floor of a subway train when I was sixteen,” he said in that scratchy voice that emerged as a result of years of weathering and cigarettes. “Used it almost every day since then.”

I looked at him quizzically. He smiled and continued. “Life is a coin flip, my son. When you find yourself at a crossroads, don’t worry about which way to go. Flip this coin and you'll find that more often than not, you'll know what to do before the coin has even landed.”

At the time, I thought this was exceedingly dumb. Base my life decisions off of a simple coin flip? A matter of luck? Nevertheless, as I grew older, I found myself relying more and more on my grandfather’s old, rusted coin.

It was so early in the morning, the sky outside the airport windows was still dark as pitch. Despite this, a steady stream of people wound their way through the terminals, peering noticeboards, clutching bags and tickets in their hands. I stood with Mei outside of gate F10: outbound flight to Seattle. She would be gone for three months on a summer internship with Microsoft; meanwhile, I would be staying behind on the University of Illinois campus where we had just finished our Junior years. This stint of time would be the first test of long-distance in the history of our five month relationship. Needless to say, I was nervous.

My grandfather’s coin was warm in my hand as I absent-mindedly flipped it in the air, a nervous tic I had first developed in my Freshman year of college. Mei noticed and smiled up at me, her brown eyes warm behind her round wire-rimmed glasses.

“It’ll be okay,” she said. “It’s only three months!” 

“Yeah. Yeah. We’ll be fine.”

The coin landed in my palm, heads-side up.

About two weeks into the long-distance summer, Mei gave me a call over video-chat one night, and I almost immediately knew something was wrong. She was lying in her usual nighttime video-chatting position; in bed, makeup off, pajamas on. However, her jaw was set and her eyes were glazed over in that distinct way that always let me know when she was upset about something.

Nevertheless, I forged ahead. “Hey babe! What’s up?” 

“You commented on Jennifer’s Instagram post? I thought we talked about this.” Mei was never one to beat around the bush. Unlike other girls I knew who basically never divulged what was actually wrong in these scenarios, Mei would always get straight to the point. One of the things I loved about her.

I groaned. I knew exactly what she was talking about. “It’s her birthday! What, I can’t wish her a happy birthday?”

“You know how I feel about her! She’s your ex-girlfriend. I’ve told you so many times how uncomfortable I am that you still talk to her.”

“But we literally don’t!” I was indignant. I totally understood where Mei was coming from, but still...I hated cutting people out of my life. It just felt wrong.

“I thought you said you unfollowed her? Did you lie to me?” Oh no. She was right. I did say that. It just completely slipped my mind to actually do it.

“Mei, I’m sorry, I totally forgot. But like, we’re just friends! Nothing will ever actually happen!”

Mei’s lip began to do a familiar quiver that I had seen before; a surefire sign that tears were soon to come. “We’ve talked about this so many times before. Literally so many times, I’ve asked you to do this. You just don’t listen to me. It’s just...I give up. I don’t know what to do anymore. This isn’t going to work out. We’re not going to work out”

I looked at her, lost for words. A couple of seconds of silence passed. I didn’t know what to say, or do, or think. I just stared at Mei’s face, digitized through the phone. She had begun to cry silently, the tears hanging off her dark eyelashes. She had always been so beautiful when she cried. In that moment, the memory came: the first time she had shed tears in front of me, months ago. She had told me she never actually learned to ride a bike. 

“How have you never learned? Isn’t that like a requirement to enter middle school or something?” I joked, grinning at the indignant reaction it caused.

“Shut up!” She punched me on the side of the arm, giggling. “Will you teach me?” 

Our first lesson ended in disaster. She crashed straight into a deep ditch on the side of the road. Panicking, I sprinted towards where she had gone down and found her lying flat on her back, covered in mud and tears. Her ankle was sprained, so I carried her on my back all the way to my dorm room. We spent the rest of the night on the couch, laughing at old episodes of The Office and eating too many bags of cheese puffs.

Suddenly, I knew what to do.

“Baby, I’m sorry. Look, I promise. I’m unfollowing her right now.” I quickly opened up the Instagram app and unfollowed Jennifer. I took a screenshot and texted it to Mei. “See? I’m sorry. I promise I won’t do anything like this again. Just. Just...let’s not break up. We can figure these things out.”

A few moments of silence. Some subdued sniffles from Mei. Then: “Okay.”

The rest of the summer passed by without any further conflicts. We called each other every night; even hundreds of miles away, she was still the last face I would see before I would fall asleep. Then, in August, I stood, waiting at the airport for my girlfriend. She saw me, her face lit up, and she flung herself into my waiting arms.

The coin landed in my palm, tails-side up.

About two weeks into the long-distance summer, Mei gave me a call over video-chat one night, and I almost immediately knew something was wrong. She was lying in her usual nighttime video-chat position; in bed, makeup off, pajamas on. However, her jaw was set and her eyes were glazed over in that distinct way that always let me know when she was upset about something.

I groaned. I was not in the mood for this. It had been a long day, and the last thing I wanted to do was try to please a moody girlfriend.

“What’s wrong?” 

“You commented on Jennifer’s Instagram post? I thought we talked about this.” She could be so blunt sometimes. Subtlety was not Mei’s forte. 

I groaned again. “Look, Mei. She’s just my friend. Nothing more.”

“You know how I feel about her! She’s your ex-girlfriend. I’ve told you so many times how uncomfortable I am that you still talk to her.”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt like my arguments fell upon deaf ears. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you. We don’t even talk that much.”

Mei’s lip began to do a familiar quiver that I had seen before; a surefire sign that tears were soon to come. “We’ve talked about this so many times before. Literally so many times, I’ve asked you to do this. You just don’t listen to me. It’s just...I give up. I don’t know what to do anymore. This isn’t going to work out. We’re not going to work out.”

I looked at her face, blurred through the phone. All I felt was weariness. This was a fight we had had so many times, and I was just tired. I thought back to all of the times we bickered and argued. She could be so aggressive sometimes, saying things that I still remembered to this day. Baggage that would never disappear. I was done with it. “Fine.” I hung up.

When August rolled around, I did not bother to pick Mei up from the airport. We were done.

I stood, flipping my coin when the announcement came: “Gate F10 now boarding.”

Mei turned to me, tears in her eyes. Without warning, she pulled me in close, burying her face into my chest. Her voice came muffled: “Bye baby. I’ll miss you.”

I wrapped my arms around her and the coin slipped out of my fingers; it fell to the ground with a small clink and rolled under a nearby row of chairs.

I didn’t bother to see which side lay facing up. At that moment, with her in my arms, I didn’t care.