I didn’t see you come in.. I was too busy scribbling away in my journal, quietly concocting a simple story for future abandonment. Wednesday evening chatter buzzed around me, so did the clicking of keyboards the ring of the cash register and whirr of the espresso machine. You sat across from me, but I didn’t realize who you were and I didn’t really care. Seats were a rare thing in the coffee house and I was quite accustomed to being close to strangers. Finally, I paused to adjust my necklace and rose my gaze to meet yours. And there it was. That dreadful fluttering feeling you gave me as a child. You grinned and I nearly blushed.
“Hi,” You uttered.
I blinked a few times, released my necklace and shut my journal.
“Hi,” I squeaked back.
You pointed at a drink on the table that had appeared near me. You said you bought it for me and hoped that I still liked my coffee with cream and sugar. I smiled and thanked you for it. Soon afterward you engaged me into a conversation. It was normal, grown-up gibberish with polite questions. Then, you pulled a book from your messenger bag. It was my book, the one I wrote. You said that it was great, causing me to smile slightly. You continued, telling me how the main character reminded you of someone. Then I really did blush… I had hoped that you wouldn’t come across that publication. I started to stammer and clutch my necklace. As calmly as I could, I asked,
“W-Who? Who does he remind you of?”
You pointed a finger to your face, “Me.”
A part of me wanted to condemn you for being so conceited. To call you foolish for thinking that after so much time apart I’d waste my time to write about you. But you were right… He was you and you were the inspiration of that story. I lowered my head and smiled somberly,
“What gave it away? The long hair? Lanky frame?”
You smiled back, but much more warmly, “Well, that helped… but I think that it was his struggle to fill a void and his random hook-ups with younger gals.”
I blinked, not sure of what to say. I took a sip of my coffee, that was perfectly sweetened, and quietly shifted in my seat. You leaned forward and your vintage leather jacket groaned with the movement.
“Rachel, let me take you to dinner.”
I laughed involuntarily and then slapped my hand over my mouth. I then mumbled an apology before you told me you were serious. Suddenly, my phone went off. I asked you to excuse me as I answered it. It was an automated message from the phone company, complaining in a cheery voice that I hadn’t paid the bill on time. I talked back to the auto-nagger as if it was a friend of mine, stressing that I’d be there soon and I’d see them in awhile. I hung up, stuffed my things in my bag, thanked you for the drink and said goodbye. I made it three steps outside before you caught up to me. You gripped my shoulder to stop me and I shivered. I turned and kept my eyes on the sidewalk. I begged you to leave me alone. You tried to lift my gaze by lifting my chin with your index finger but I moved away. I knew better, I knew what you were doing.
“Oh, come on,” You said, trying to downplay your intentions, “Just a dinner?”
I shook my head. You were lying.
“Why now, Jake? I wrote the damned thing years ago… Why now?”
You sighed and put your hands in your pocket, signaling that you were uncomfortable.
“I made a mistake… I realized that I missed you just as much as you missed me.”
I only half listened to what you said as I was going crazy.
“Jake! I was there the whole time! For ages and ages and the moment I try to get away you chase me?!”
For a moment it looked like you wanted to grab my hand.
“Well, I’m here now and I know what I want finally. I know you want me too. I read the way you wrote about me…”
I scowled and readjusted my purse on my shoulder.
“Jake… I wrote that book six years ago.”
“Whatever, Rach, I know feelings like that don’t go away.”
“I’m happy now, Jake. I’m finally happy. Look!” And I shoved my left hand in your face so you could see my gleaming banded ring finger.
You opened your mouth to speak, but I continued, not wanting to lose the momentum of my pent-up aggravation.
“You had your chance. Everyone knew I loved you. Damn it, you knew it and you still fucked with my head! You’d hold my hand, tell me I was amazing then the next day some whore was telling me that you were the best night of her life. I wanted to die, just wither and die. And you knew it, you knew it all along but I was just a play thing. Just something to amuse you and waster your time with.”
“Rachel, I-”
“NO, Jake.. I am through being your stupid Barbie. I left for a reason.”
But you weren’t going to back down. I saw the glint in your eye. Before I knew it you had me by my waist and were shoving your tongue into my mouth. I hit your shoulder and chest furiously, trying desperately to fight my way out of your passionate wrath. You were kissing me harshly and I felt my lip start to bruise. I tried to scream against your mouth, but my words came out mumbled and stifled. As I was trashing about for what seemed like hours, I thought about how my adolescent wish had come true. You were kissing me and saying that you wanted to be with me. Yet, it was all so unpleasant and nightmarish. I wanted nothing more than to disappear. I finally managed a hearty punch to your stomach and you released me. I was panting and you were gasping for breath.
“I. Don’t. Love. You.” I said in broken breaths.
In my delirium and slight exhaustion, I slumped against the nearest wall, watching you slowly rise to your full height. You were wincing and your eyes glimmered with faux tears. How I always hated those.
“If you love this bastard so much… then why are you wearing his ring… and my necklace,” You said, looking down at me.
I was speechless. My hand automatically shot up to my neck. I hated when you were right. It was a simple chain, with a small charm in the shape of a fairy. It was probably the cheapest thing I owned, but at one time it held a world of worth. It meant that you and I had a chance. It meant that I wasn’t just another girl. At least… that’s what I had thought. I scowled and gripped it tightly. I had wished that you would come back to me. Past tense. Had.
I quickly tore it off of me, a few links falling away from me and I stood.
“This doesn’t mean anything to me anymore, neither does that book or you.”
And I threw the necklace onto the street where it awaited the weight of a car tire.
“Jake, I don’t love you anymore. Get over it and grow up,”
I was free, and I think you knew it. I walked a bit closer to you, “Because I have.”
You didn’t say a thing, so I decided to finally say my last words.
“Goodbye, Jake. Don’t ever contact me again and NEVER put your hands on me again.”
And with that, I slapped you across the face. It made a very satisfyingly painful noise and left my hand buzzing. As I walked off I could finally smile because the last tear in your eye was real and even though I had cried so much more, I knew you were hurting, just as much as I had.
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