He never knew....

It's the same as it is every other day. Wake up, get dressed, eat, show up at work, go home, maybe eat, sometimes alone, sometimes with my cat, sleep, then repeat. A boring routine for a boring girl. Then something changed. He came. I didn't notice him at first, no, I noticed him when no one else did. It all started when I went through the same morning routine. I woke up, fed my cat, Roscoe, ate some stale toast and headed off to work, expecting the same old boring day to unfold. Little did I know that I was in for a shock. 

As I finished prepping for the first heavy onslaught of customers the cafe normally got at 8 in the morning, he walks in an easy smile on face. I should have known how he made me feel then, but I was blind. All the female patrons flocked to him like a seagull to a lone french fry at the beach, as if they had never seen an attractive man before. But he didn't spare them even a glance, which I found odd. They were all beautiful women, perfect for an attractive man like him. But, he stared right at me instead, as he slowly approached the front counter. His eye contact unsettled me, and maybe that is why I thought I disliked him so. Now don't get me wrong, I treated him with the best customer service, but his grin, his..his gaze, his everything seemed to see right into my very soul! What I hadn't realized at the time was that I had instantly found someone who was my equal. Someone who challenged me like no other had before. After making his drink, I quickly call out his name. "Harry" I call out once. Then another time. 

A group of ladies at a table disperse as the man, Harry, stands to grab his drink. As he goes to leave, he seems to remember something and fishes out a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to me. I glance down at it and realize that he gave me his number. Then with a wink and a whispered promise to see me later, he walks out, leaving me flustered and confused. Who was this man, I asked myself, why did he just openly flirt with me and why oh why did he pick me of all people. It was among that inner monologue, of going over all the physical and underlying details of the mysterious stranger 'Harry" that I believe I had fallen for him. Love at first sight, as it states in the fairy tales. A concept I didn't even think existed. After that day, I looked forward to and regretted every coming day where Harry would walk in at 7:15, order a medium Americano, smile at me, and leave. It left me, for days, in an utter state of turmoil. How could one man be so cocky, I would think to myself, not fully knowing that I didn't really see him as cocky. Weeks later, I find his number in my jacket pocket and for whatever reason I call him, saying hi. Yes it is me. Amelia. Harry is a wonderful name. I would love to meet for coffee. Yes, 10 is perfect. We hang up at the same time. I stop dreading seeing him, accepting my sudden feelings for whatever reason. It was like something finally felt right for the first time in a while. I just....knew that all that was happening was right and perfect and meant to be. 

I show up on Saturday at a different coffee place, expecting him not to be there but there he is, 15 minutes early, grinning at me as I walk in. I sit. "Hello," I say softly, suddenly overtaken by a rare moment of shyness. 

"Well, Hello Amelia," he says in a tone that made me melt inside. We talked for what felt like hours, days, weeks even, holding nothing back. At the end of our coffee date, we promised to meet again. I told him I had a wonderful time, he agrees, and we went our separate ways. We went on more dates after that and pretty soon, it was official. We were in a relationship and it didn't bother me one bit. Because I loved him.

"You know, I love you," he said to me one lazy Friday afternoon. I was stunned. He really cared for me to that extent? In fear, I just smiled and gave him a kiss, hoping I could convey how I felt through my actions. And ever since he said those fateful words, it was like a floodgate opening on his feelings. He would exclaim to me over and over how much he cared for me, in detail, making me fall more and more in love with him. But I couldn't see how far I was falling. I was dim and an idiot. It fully came to me when the accident happened. We were both driving home in our own cars, and we were on the phone with each other. We had been debating on what to have for dinner, arguing on which food was better Italian or Chinese, when all of a sudden the sound of glass shattering sounded out on his end. I immediately freaked out and pulled to the side of the road and asked him over and over again, what happened what happened. But no answer came. Not until I heard a faint voice on the other line muttering. I felt so much joy that Harry, my love, was okay. I felt tears running down my cheeks, as my mouth formed to say the fated words but then I heard it. Heard him. 

"I love you, Darling. I love you. I love you. I-" his voice cuts off, but the line stays open. I cried out to him, maybe he's passed out due to shock, I said to myself, trying to rationalize it all. But I had known deep down what had happened. So as I sped over to the hospital, I chanted the fated words to myself, to him, not caring anymore. But I knew then that it was too late. I showed up to the hospital, demanding to see him and was immediately ushered out, not to a room, but to the morgue. I think then, that's where my memory is hazy. I remember seeing him and collapsing at his side, whispering the fated words until they were nothing but sounds coming out of my mouth. From there, it's all blank. He was my true love. And I had been a coward. In the following months, I blamed myself. But now, I try not to dwell on the negatives. I try to think of all the good things our relationship brought me. It brought me love and understanding, something I don't know I if will ever get back in the same way ever again.  

Thinking back, our relationship, I would like to say, started to bloom right there at our first official date, but he would disagree if he were here. He would say it happened right when he locked eyes with me when he accidentally walked into the wrong coffee shop and first laid eyes on me. It was his favorite thing to go on and on about. But now, without him, I don't hear the endless tirades of how a burger should be made or simply how much he loves me. These thoughts always make me feel so guilty and so ashamed. Ashamed that I was scared to tell him that I loved him. My biggest regret is that He Never Knew.