Coffee and Cupids

He shivers and pulls his scarf up higher to protect his neck. The breeze brushing against his skin, waking him up as he stands outside the coffee shop, waiting for her. He’s been out of town for weeks, long enough to put their relationship into perspective. He dreaded what he had to do. 

The breeze blows her hair in all directions as she approaches. It chaps her cheeks in the early spring air, makes her look like a goddess in the dying light of the day. 

“Shall we?” He offers her his arm, but he has the feeling they wouldn’t be leaving together. 

She takes his arm with a brief nod and a shy smile. “We shall.” 

Inside, the small coffee shop is warm, too much so in their coats and hats and scarves. “Why don’t you go find a table?” He suggests. “Your usual?” 

They’ve been coming to the coffee shop for years, ever since their first date. She knows the menu by heart, spending hours there working on her poetry. He knows it just as well. 

“Please,” she says with a gentle nod before she’s off to find a table. Knowing her, she’ll find the best spot, secluded and away from prying ears. 

He’s counting on it. 

Once he’s ordered, he finds her in the corner of the little shop near the windows, tucked into one of the large plushy chairs. Overhead, fake cupids and over-exaggerated hearts dangle and swing from the blow of the heater. 

Things stay quiet between them until the overly cheery barista calls out his name for the orders. Once he returns with the coffees, he struggles to find the right words to say. 

Across from him, she sips her coffee delicately, as if it might shatter in her hands if she grips it too hard. She barely sets it down on the small table, but when she does she flinches. Instead, she elects to hold it between her palms, as if the warmth is enough to save her. 

He hates to be the bearer of bad news, but the coffee cup isn’t enough to save her. Not from all the pain and grief he has caused. 

Too much has changed in the last few years and he can see that as she sits across from him, using her coffee as a shield. 

They don’t talk as much as they used to. She doesn’t tell him about her most recent projects. And then, there’s the money issues, and the other issues. 

He doesn’t know how it all changed so fast. One day, they were happy, and the next time he blinked too much had changed between them. 

He sighs into his own coffee cup. He’s the cause of most of her unhappiness, but he can’t bring himself to actually say it. She dreads closing her eyes, and he wonders if it has to do with her nightmares. He can’t bring himself to ask her that either. 

He hates that he doesn’t know how to talk to her anymore. 

“Have you noticed it’s been more windy lately?” Small talk. He hates small talk. 

In a brief moment, her entire face changes. A surge of confidence, a bit of life surges through her. “What’s going on?” She looks him over and it feels like an interrogation. “You only talk about the weather when you’re nervous and don’t want to tell me something bad.” 

Damn! He hates being so predictable. 

“What is it you don’t want to tell me?”

“I—“ He starts, but didn’t know where to go from there. He’s wanted to have this conversation for a while, but he has never known how to bring it up. In a blind sweep of courage, he had decided to bring her to the coffee shop that night, simply so the feeling of guilt would stop eating him. “I think we should get divorced.” 

There’s no more avoiding the inevitable. 

He half expects her to drop the coffee cup right there in the coffee shop, to make a huge scene. Instead, she places her coffee cup down gently, with barely a clink on the water droplet stained table. “Why?” She holds his gaze with her tired grey eyes. 

As much as he wants to put it all into words, and bring up all the bad things, he doesn’t. “You know why.” 

She shakes her head. “No, Anthony, I don’t,” She says. “Even if I did, I want you to tell me. You can’t just say you want a divorce and then not talk about it.” 

If that’s how she wants it to go, then he will give it to her. “I don’t make you happy anymore.” The concept was simple enough, but she would want more. “You don’t smile when I come home anymore. You’re not excited when we plan trips.” He sighs into his coffee. “You don’t love me anymore, so I’m facing the inevitable and making the decision before you can.” 

“What else? There has to be more than just that.” 

Damn this woman who knows him so well. “I can’t give you what you want.” His coffee trembles in his hands. “I can’t give you the one thing you want.”

Realization dawns across her face. “You mean everything from the last year,” She says. “The miscarriages, the failed IVF, the debt.” She nods along for a moment. “You’re right.” She says. The weight of the decision crushes him all over again. Coffee splashes onto his sleeve, but he rights the cup.

“I don’t smile anymore when you come home. I don’t get excited when we plan trips, not like I should be and I’m sorry for that.” She reaches out and takes his hand in hers. “But you’re wrong,” She says next. “I still love you, and I would never make that decision for us.” 

Confusion rocks him. “But you’ve wanted a baby, a family since you were a kid,” he says. “I can’t give that to you. We don’t have the money or the resources for more rounds of IVF. I can’t stand to see you cry again when the tests come back negative.” 

She takes a deep breath. “I do want a baby,” She says, the tears shining at the edges of her eyes. “And I do want to start a family with you and no one else.” She squeezes his hand in hers. “But I don’t want a divorce. I never want a divorce.” 

He heaves a sigh of relief. 

She chuckles and everything between them feels easy again. “The fact you thought the easiest solution was divorce astounds me.” He feels the power of her gaze. “We made a promise when we got married, didn’t we?” She asks him, flashing the beautiful antique ring on her hand. “I intend to keep that promise, whether we have children or not, whether we’re in debt or not. Whether it’s sunshine and roses or failed IVF and miscarriages. We can still change the future.” She grips his hand hard in hers. “Together.” 

“I love you, now and forever and always,” He says. “I will do anything to make you happy.” He takes the hand in his and kisses it. 

“Good,” she says with a smile. “Now let’s go home. The soup should be ready.” 

“There’s no problem that soup can’t fix.” 

Outside, the sky has darkened, but the wind has calmed giving way to a calm night. 

He helps her with her knitted hat, tucks her scarf into her jacket. 

“Care to give me a ride home?” She asks with a small smile. “I was nervous, so I walked.” 

He pulls her under his arm. “Always, my Angie.”