She walked into the coffee shop and surveyed her surroundings, a knot of anticipation in her stomach and another unidentifiable feeling that could easily be mistaken as a sense of impending doom. She glanced around and almost panicked before she noticed him tucked in a corner, looking, as always, as though he didn’t belong there. She thought back to all the questions: “How did you end up with this guy?” and the statements: “I never would have seen you with a guy like him.” She strode over to where he sat just as he put the finishing touches on a “Hey baby. What’s up”, burly and crass as always. She smiled on the inside because no one else would ever understand why she loved it that way.
You see, she hadn’t seen him in weeks, their respective colleges having separated them by more than just hours and miles: he, in military school, and she, an art major at a renowned university. Theirs was a summer romance. She, never having been the type to fall in love, didn’t recognize the dangers of such a potentially brief affair; naturally assuming he wouldn’t make it that long, and after all, he was nothing like her first epic love. But love, foolish as always, was what had led her to this coffee shop and the potentially disastrous conversation she was about to have. She spared a moment to simply enjoy his company before she began:
“Hey honey, how are things at school?”
“Fine”: an answer brief as usual. She decided to dive right into her purpose before this quickly became like every other admit-nothing conversation.
“So I hung out with a guy the other night.” They were supposed to have an open relationship while they were in school; his idea: to allow her the full experience of her freshman year.
“Yeah?” The question came off rather lacking in spirit, no jealousy and only mild curiosity.
“Yeah. He was nice, attractive and all, and he’s in the army too; and, he’s clearly interested in me.”
“Ok”: another profound and emotionally lacking response, though this time she could sense the carefulness behind his choice. She continued quickly.
“The thing is, it was mostly just awkward. Really, being around him, all it did was make me miss you. In fact, the only guys I’m actually attracted to around this place are the ones that remind me of you.” She waited for a response, some sort of sign that he may have a clue as to what she was about to say. He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, but whatever thoughts he had he chose, yet again, to keep them to himself.
“Ok.”
“Well you see the thing is, I don’t know if I can do this.”
The idea finally dawned on him, or perhaps it was just his fight or flight sense alerting him to the impending loss of his new found freedom. He began to make excuses.
“Baby, we’ve talked about this. I know how you are, and I don’t want to keep you from experiencing…”: the same old defensive jargon. She knew what he was going to say and she swiftly decided to cut him off before she lost courage.
“Just listen to me.” She paused for a moment and began again hesitantly, “I know you probably don’t care about me as much as I…”
“You think I don’t care about you? Baby, you know that’s not true.” Despite this rare admission she had to make herself continue.
“I think the reason I can’t do this…I know I said it’s not how I am and I don’t know how this happened, but I think I’m in love with you. I love you.”
Her admission was met with a lengthy silence.
“I don’t know what to say.” She sensed his faltering and rapidly began to downplay the seriousness of what’d she’d just admitted aloud for the first time.
“But it’s ok, I’ll be ok, and I don’t want you to worry. It’s ok if you don’t feel the same, I understand. And if you want to continue with an open relationship I’ll find a way, I just don’t want to lose you, but I thought you should know.”
In the following silence all the doubts that she’d had about sharing her feelings became a reality. Her fear that her relationship would change beyond repair solidified, and her heart began to bleed. She could see everything in his face: the confusion, the fear, and most of all the lack of understanding, a clear indication of unreturned sentiment. She fought the tears and noticed the panic in his eyes as he finally took note of her long present inner struggle, as if seeing it for the first time. He spoke.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She sensed her life slipping away from her, completely out of her control, and in a fit of desperation, attempted to hastily patch things up.
“Look. Forget I said anything. I probably don’t know what I’m talking about. You know I get emotional sometimes.”
“Baby, you’ve obviously been thinking about this a lot.”
“But I’ll be ok, I promise, don’t worry about it.”
“You know I hate it when you say that. I think I should go.”
“Wait! Honey, please, I haven’t seen you in awhile. Stay a little longer… please.” No one would miss the now naked anxiety apparent on her face.
“I need to go.” He stood up to leave and maybe it was habit, or perhaps the remnants of a last bleeding hope for normalcy, but she leapt up with him.
“Gimme a kiss?” The question that had been a pillar of stability and reassurance over the months now held more uncertainty than ever. He gave her a glance and, whether it was out of pity or not, one couldn’t say, but he leaned in and kissed her; and in that moment she knew. His kiss felt unfamiliar, like it was for the first time but without the giddy nervousness of newfound love. It simply felt like they had never kissed before, months of intimacy erased in a moment, and it was then that she knew, that they would never kiss again.
He walked out of the coffee shop and didn’t look back. She took a small sense of pride in the fact that she made it all the way home by herself before she completely broke down. She knew it would be the last sense of pride she would feel for a very long time and, as she fought back the hysteria, she somehow maintained a level of sanity sufficient to recall a quote she’d once heard from a friend: “If you choose to love a soldier, you must always be prepared to lose him.”