She walked in and was immediately engulfed in the familiar smell of burnt espresso mixed with the hint of bleach. She loved the coffee shop, not only because it was a haven for her to escape to, but because she had worked in one for over 3 years. It was home to her. She knew it from both angles- in front of and behind the counter. She was a coffee snob... but in such an earnest way no one ever seemed to get annoyed.
She ordered her skim, no whip white mocha and chatted with the barista about business and about how he enjoyed working there. She took her drink and headed towards the big cumfy chairs against the window.
Like a scene from a movie, the image of him sitting in front of her flashed through her mind. Things got blurry, and then focused again. She blinked a few times just to be sure.
She knew it was him... but it was the woman sitting across from him that she focused on.
Slender. Blonde. Big, silver hoops hanging from her ears. White collared shirt. Tight jeans. Gorgeous.
He was how she had remembered him last Tuesday. Cleanly shaven. Messy hair. Long sleeved t-shirt. Khakis. That bad posture and dopey look on his face.
She locked eyes with him and saw through her peripheral vision that her heart was beating out of her chest, a good foot and a half in front of her, at the rate it usually is when he is on top of her in his bed.
Do I go over and say hello?, she thought. Naw... I’ll just wave.
So she did. But he didn’t see her. Or didn’t want to see her.
She walked carefully- calculated over to a table behind them. With her hands shaking she set her drink down on the table and sat facing the window. She could see the back of his head. And when she moved to one side or the other... she could see the woman’s face.
Rejected and cold, she sat there trying to compose herself. If she got up and left now, surely he would see. She didn’t want him to see the hurt she was feeling. So she sat. Trying to read her book. Trying to write in her notebook.
Their conversation was so animated. Big. Hard to ignore. She looked up every now and again, catching glimpses of the woman’s hair. Her smile. She had bad, yellow teeth... set way too far back from her lips.
Why. Why of all the places. On all the days. Did she have to see him here? One week ago, they were tongue tied in his darkened doorway... too impatient to wait until they got into his bedroom. He kissed her slowly. Forcefully. Like he never had before.
They had decided to only be friends. They had gone many months dancing around the subject of their hanging out multiple times a week, sometimes ending up in his bed together the following mornings. She had wanted a casual relationship with no labels or pressure. He had thought she mean friends with benefits.
She had told herself she would stop. Stop letting him hurt her. Stop letting him in only to have him ignore her feelings and needs.
But he had invited her back to his place. He had made the initial move. And her heart couldn’t hold back anymore. But when he pulled away from her again... only to go into his bedroom and get ready for sleep... she lost it. She asked him why he was doing this again. Why he constantly leads her on if he has no intention of building anything with her. Why he was such a horrible friend.
But halfway through her tirade... she leaned over him to see that he was asleep.
He fell. Asleep.
That was the last time she had seen him- as she walked out of his place at one in the morning.
She tried not to eavesdrop- really she did. She even distracted herself by playing eye tag with a man sitting against the wall. He was cute- big poofy brown curls and a messenger bag with patches all over it. She would have approached him if she could have moved.
But then the boy left and she couldn’t pretend anymore. She took out her cell phone to check her voicemail messages- it had been two days since she last checked...it would serve as a logical distraction.
“You have 8 new messages.” She sipped on her drink with the phone up to her ear, and was caught off guard by the appearance of his feet suddenly next to her table.
He was wearing brown sandals with his pants. They looked horrible. She followed them up to his hands, strategically placed in his pockets. Up to his chest and past the logo of his college football team. To a look on his face that blatantly said- better than words ever could,
“I’m really sorry, Liz... but PLEASE don’t embarrass me right now.”
She felt her face flush. She felt her chest heave. It was too slow. Time was being too slow.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Are you ok?” He asked with a tone that seemed almost surprised at how sad she looked.
“Not really.” And before she could stop herself... she lied. “My mom is back in the hospital.”
“Oh my gosh, why?”
“She fell.”
Pause. The woman had gotten up. Put on her jacket. Approached.
“But I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ok... bye.”
“See ya.”
He took her arm, and they left. They left her alone, with an angry automated voicemail voice yelling at her to choose whether or not to save, delete or return the call.
The tears caught up with her on her walk to the car. It was drizzling now... she didn’t have her jacket. At least no one could tell she was crying through the wet that fell onto her face from above.
What she couldn’t understand, what troubled her the most, as she drove home with blurry eyes that matched the windshields covered in raindrops... was why she needed to see this.
Why did she deserve to get hurt even more? And why this week? The one week she needed him to be there for her.
With everything in her life being in complete limbo. So much emotional stress and pain. So much doubt, uneasiness and pressure... why on top of all that did she have to see him treat another girl the way he should have treated her from the beginning?
And why did she have to be gorgeous in the conventional way? And why did they have to be in the coffee shop. The one place he would never go with her- except once. Where she taught him how to order his drink properly.
I understand that it wasn’t meant to be. I know he has every right to go wherever with whoever whenever he pleases... and that he didn’t plan on me seeing him. But why... why in god’s name did I have to see that?
When will the hurting be enough? When will I get a turn to experience the other side of this spectrum we call life?
I ache for the day I can have where not one cloud of doom is hovering over me. When I can smile purely... honestly... and not only because someone said something funny. Just out of happiness.
I hate being known as that friend who has been dealt a hard hand. I hate my friends worrying about me. I hate that I can’t really remember what it’s like to be in a real, day to day, romantic relationship. I hate that I am so hung up on finding a deep and true love... and I hate even more that I have settled for less out of loneliness and fear.
Worst of all... I hate how much it hurts. How much it hurts to be wronged and denied by someone who really has no idea of what they mean to you.
I’m sick of being the one with all of the feelings. The only emotion right now that I am clinging to is desperation.
I’m desperate to feel something, ANYTHING other than sadness, anger and pain.
anything.
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