Lemon Drop

I knocked several lemons off the display as I dug for the brightest, most perfect one. “No, no, no,” I whispered as I bent down to clean up the mess, hoping to avoid attention. I didn’t want a pearl-clutching customer to notice I was drunk and alert a manager. I was craving a lemon drop martini to top off my sad, lonely night of pub-hopping, and I didn’t want to pay a premium for the cocktail at a bar. So, in an act of frugal brilliance, I braved the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. I could only imagine the state of my face in that moment, eyes red-rimmed and puffed up, skin smeared with eyeliner and lipstick.

“Hannah?” A voice called from behind me.

Oh no. Oh no, I thought, from my squatted position on the fruit aisle. Frozen there with my head down, I prayed another Hannah would emerge from somewhere nearby. And fast.

“Is that you?” the voice persisted, and my heart sank as I realized who its owner was.

Maybe if I don’t respond, he’ll think he’s mistaken and slink away in embarrassment. Alas, I could feel him bend down next to me, and my pride rolled right under the display, landing squarely next to a few long-lost lemons who had been dropped by idiots like me.

He put his hand on the fleshy back side of my arm without a word. His other hand picked up a dirty lemon, and he pulled us both up off the floor. Our savior. My face was hot, my tongue tied. I was not ready to give an explanation for the past 12 hours, nor for the past 12 months. His silence said that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t ask.

I placed my dropped lemons back onto their temporary home, keeping the biggest one for myself, and I had no choice then but to look up at my ex-boyfriend Liam.

Damn. For every wrinkle I’d acquired in the last year, Liam had gotten healthier and more beautiful. Had the break-up not affected him at all? Or maybe he’d punched his feelings out at the gym while I swallowed mine, chasing them with vodka.

The eye contact was almost too much for me to bear. My throat closed up as hot tears threatened to burst forth. I held my breath.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Liam asked gently.

My attempts at uttering a response were futile, so I just held up the lemon in my hand.

With kind eyes and brows raised, Liam asked, “You want to buy that first?”

That question cracked me open. I folded over in a fit of laughter, and tears streamed down my cheeks. I’m not really sure if I was laughing or crying, actually, in my inebriated state. I was a toddler trying to communicate. Liam chuckled, and for a split second, it felt normal, I felt normal, like I was running errands in a grocery story on a regular day with the man who loved me.

 ***

The wind stripped moisture from my eyes, though now I had finally gotten my emotions in check. Without asking if I was cold, Liam removed his jacket and placed it around my shoulders as we walked. Instinctively, I turned my face away from him as we approached each streetlamp, feeling self-conscious still about the visible results of my inappropriate night out. I wanted him so badly to remember the best bits of me.

“So…” Liam said, the word hanging in the air like smoke.

“So…” I bit my lip. My apartment building loomed in the distance. I was already dreading the moment we would reach the door, the inevitable goodbye that would leave me alone again. Forever, maybe.

We both blurted out, “I’m sorry.” Then, for a few seconds, we ping-ponged the awkward, “You go first. No, you, you.” I finally conceded.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this.” I wiped my cheeks, still silently convincing myself that the wind, and only the wind, was causing the tears. “I’m kind of a mess. I mean, not because of you. I just have a lot going on, you know?” Lies. He’s all I’ve thought about, all I ever think about.

“Don’t worry about it, Hannah.” The sound of my name hung there heavy, though not unpleasant. “If you didn’t drop something in the grocery store every time you shopped, would it really be you shopping?” He smiled, and I was grateful for his avoidance of the real subject.

I asked, “So, what are you sorry for?”

“Uh huh,” he cleared his throat. “You know. For ending things.”

My insides lurched. The breakup felt like yesterday. People always say that about traumatic events, and I understand it now. I gulped, trying to keep the booze and the emotions down.

“I wasn’t in a good place then,” he continued. “You remember that. I was unhealthy, mentally and physically. I’ve started seeing a therapist. I have a gym membership. The whole nine.”

Wow, these last twelve months have been very different for us, I thought. I wanted to be happy for him, to congratulate him. Instead, before I could stop it, I said, “I’m glad you are doing so much better now that I’m out of your way.” Just like that, I threw down the hammer that had accompanied me for a year.

“Hannah--”

I turned to face him, stopping us both. He looked genuinely hurt. “Liam, it’s true. I’m a toxic person. I can admit that.” My stomach did a somersault, but I pressed on. “You are in a better place, and I…” Just breathe.  “I will be too. Eventually. Please don’t feel sorry for me; that’s not why I’m saying all this. I don’t know…”

My voice trailed off, my train of thought derailed, so I started walking again, as a statement to Liam of my independence, my will to move on. He followed. Neither of us spoke.

On the threshold of my building, in another act of self-sufficiency, I handed Liam’s jacket back to him and forced a smile. He put it on. The wind slipped through the space between us like an invisible partition. He smiled too, then turned to leave.

I turned and reached for the door, willing myself to hold back the tears, at least until I made it inside the building.

“Hey, Hannah?”

I whipped my head around.

“Catch.”

My arm flew out to the side, and my hand grasped the item before my eyes could even see it. Liam was already walking away as I looked down to see what he had tossed to me, what I had already forgotten all about. The lemon was bright and perfect.