You & I

I watch as you bring the mug to your lips. The steaming liquid emits from the top as you bring your lips to an “O”, cooling down the hot liquid before taking that first glorious sip of the velvet latte; with almond milk-just how you like it.

You look different, somehow. There’s a sort of serenity surrounding you, a calm air that makes you seem like the most relaxed person in the room.

It’s been four years since I’ve seen you last. Four long years. And I still can’t take my eyes off of you while you’re in my vicinity. My stomach skips as you turn your head over in my direction, catching my observations of you as I stand in the vestibule. You grin and wave me over.

I act as if I just walked into the café, not wanting to seem like a total fucking creep. When you stand to greet me, there’s the awkward dance of who goes in for a hug or should we kiss on the cheek? Instead of either of those things happening, I step my size fourteen feet on your flat loafers.

Such an idiot. 

I roll my eyes, “Sorry,” I mutter, pulling away quickly as I shake my head, feeling like a complete moron. I open my arms, welcoming you into an embrace, not moving my body, knowing I won’t fuck it up and break your toes if you come to me instead. 

You fit. Just as I remember. When your arms wrap around me, I fecklessly graze my nose over the top of your head, inhaling the lavender scent of your shampoo. Your head still nestles snuggly right under my chin. Right where you belong. You feel like a cloud- a warm, flocculent throw that wraps around me. It’s hard to imagine you being back here, but here you are, and oh, how I’ve missed it. 

You pull away too quickly-I wasn’t ready to let go. But I hold my stance before I reach back for you. Wanting to feel your embrace once again. 

I take the seat opposite you once you turn and slide into the booth. I’m mesmerized by your wispy movements-elegant, regal-like. 

You look amazing.

Your brown chocolate locks brush over your face when you look down in embarrassment when you notice I’m watching you. It’s hard to pry my eyes away from your face-you have yet to look at me directly.

I glanced at the server passing by. “Excuse me,” I said, lifting my hand to catch her attention. She’s carrying four plates of food, one on each forearm and the other two in her hands. “Can I have a hot black coffee, please?” 

The server gives me an annoyed nod, never missing a step on her way over to the table that holds three snobbish looking women waiting anxiously for their food.

When I turn back around, your phone is in your hand and for a moment, I think our coffee “date” is over. 

“Gimme one sec,” You said as her fingers sped across the phone keyboard, typing out her message quicker than I would’ve been able to speak with words. 

I watch your facial expressions as you continue to type in deep thought. Your brows furrow ever so slightly when you do this. I remember it clearly. When you bite your bottom lip in concentration, it brings a flood of memories of you with that exact face you’re making. I would think of the same memories when I was alone. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” You said, as you placed your phone face down on the table. 

“No worries, I’ve heard you've become a very busy woman.” 

You smirk, “you don’t know the half of it.”

An awkward silence fills us, one that’s never been there before. I want to make this as painless as possible, but it seems I’m not sure how.. Please, don’t let it be too late.

You look at your phone again-something is bothering you. Something is keeping you from being present with me. I clear my throat and right before I speak; you interrupt me.

“It’s nice to see you,” You said. “You look… good.” The smirk creeps the corners of your mouth into an almost guilty grin. You think I look good-checkmark for me. 

I don't put as much effort into getting ready as I did today. I met my barber early this morning, tipping him generously after I begged him to fit me in. Once that was done, I showered and pressed my shirt, the same blue button up you always loved. Always saying it matched my eyes, bringing out my “baby blues”. 

“Nice shirt,” you said mockingly, like you heard my thoughts. “Is it…”

“The same one.” I cut her off. 

You bought me this shirt on our first Christmas together, along with the ornament I still hang every year and for the last four years we’ve been apart. A memento of us.

“Wow, I can’t believe you still have it.” You said in a downcast stare. “You know, it was always my favorite.”

“It’s the reason I wore it,” I said timidly.

You nod-eyes diverting to your phone again when it buzzes. This time you don’t pick it up.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I… ugh,” You said. 

I grab your hand from across the table, rubbing my thumb along the top for reassurance. Tell me.

“This is… it’s a lot right now,” You said, bringing your vision to my swirling thumb.

“Why did you email me?”

So many reasons. But I’ll start with the most obvious.

“I’ve missed you,” I said. 

Your hand slides away from mine, bringing it to meet the other in a steeple in front of your face. Your eyes close as you take a heavy breath in, breathing out all the emotion you just felt in my answer. 

“It’s been four years,” You said. “Without a word. What should I do with that?”

When you open your eyes, they’re glassy. I can see how much it’s taking you not to shed the tears you’ve been holding in since I walked through that door. 

The server stops by the table with the oversized mug and places it in front of me. 

Grrrr, not now. 

“Did ya folks want to order anything else?” She said, not as aggravated as she looked a few moments ago. 

Not trying to be rude, but kindly, please fucking leave. I thank the server quickly before turning back to you. 

You’re diverting your eye to my chest, afraid to make the eye contact I so desperately need. Please look at me. 

It takes but a moment for tears to spring from your eyes when you finally allow yours to meet mine. My soul chips away fleetingly as I come to realize the hurt I’ve caused you.

I have felt this way for the last four years. Every single day I’ve yearned for you while I was away in London. Every dark haired woman with long curls reminded me of You. But no one compared, and I couldn’t take it any longer.

Taking that internship brought me success in my career and life, and I should’ve been living on top of the world. But, with every passing day that I didn’t have you by my side, made me feel like the poorest man to walk the Earth. No matter how many zeros landed in my bank account. 

I open my hand, offering it to You, pleading for you to place it hand back in mine. You eye it as it’s pulsing with anxiety. I await your response, waiting for you to place your manicured hand in mine, and for a moment as you watch it in curiosity, I think you’ve relented.

 You sit back into the booth bleakly, pressing your back against the black leather settee, wishing it would swallow you up from this moment. 

Fuck, I’m hurting you. This wasn’t my intention-I never want to hurt you again. 

Your grieved expression sends a gnawing pang deep in my abdomen. Words fail me as I try to think of every plausible excuse for what I did. I have none-because what I did was inexcusable.

“When you left four years ago… we agreed to keep in touch. You said we knew how hard it would be.” Your eyes weigh down further as I watch you intently, bringing a scorch to my corneas. An instant branding, causing tears to produce-immediately obscuring my vision. I won’t look away from you. 

“You told me to wait… you weren’t just my partner, you were my best friend.” You said. You quickly suck in your lower lip to shield the noticeable quiver. Urging the tremble to cease as you press your teeth into the plump flesh. 

“There’s nothing I can say other than I’m so fucking sorry.” I said, letting the tears fall- wanting you to see how much I’m hurting for the pain I’ve caused. 

You hold up your hand, stopping me before I can finish. “Why now? Why, after all this time, after shutting me out completely?”

I had to. The more present you were in my life, the more confused I became. I couldn’t afford to be distracted, not with the opportunity my father provided. My whole heart and soul had to go into it and the thought of You being back here, waiting for me, brought me to unparalleled oppression.

My head drops into my hands, rubbing my palms into the sockets of my eyes, trying to control the sting that still sits behind them.

“I… I’m so fucking sorry,” I whisper. “I…,” I said.

You grab your wallet from the clutch bag that sat on the seat next to you. Taking out two-twenty-dollar bills, placing them in the middle of the table. 

Hastily, you grab the rest of your items. “I can’t do this,” You said, scooting out of the booth. “It’s too much, now” 

I stood before you could take your first step out of the bistro. “Please… wait,” I said, grabbing your arm. You tense, like I’m bringing you physical pain by my action alone. 

I loosen my grip by a millimeter. “Please, don’t leave.” I said, squeezing your forearm gently- desperately. “I can’t lose you again.” 

Your body relaxes in my hand, bringing me another moment of hope. 

“I have to get back home… to my fiancé,” You said, taking your fingers and carefully removing my hand from your forearm.

I watch as you turn your back on me, like I did on you all those years ago to you. Never looking back.