You and I were leaving a group meeting. We hadn't seen each other in a long time, and old feelings came rising out of the deep when we saw each other again. You looked different, older, more mature. You had become someone I didn't know.
We left with everyone else, the host seeing us out of his home, everyone saying their goodbyes. I grabbed your hand as you walked past, my fingers remembering yours as they suddenly intertwined. You looked me in the eye, my heart clenched at the sudden contact. "Stay with me tonight," I whispered. "My place?" you whisper back as you pull my hand toward you, our fingers still intertwined. I nod.
We walk toward where you parked. My ride had gone on without me. Suddenly you pick up your pace. I try to match your step. You start running, a gleam in your eye. Someone in the distance is running toward you. I slow down, and the distance between us grows. You run faster and faster toward the person coming toward you until you catch you in your arms and spin her in the air. You trip and fall into the grass with her, your eyes filled with laughter in a way they never did for me. I turn and walk the opposite way, leaving you with her.
I pick up my phone and wonder how I will get home. It's well into the night, and anyone I call would still be asleep. I am miles from home, alone. I sit against a wall and cry.
Monday, April 3, 2017
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Chapter 63: A Summer Love, Revisited Ch 5
"Hello?" Charlotte picked up the phone and whispered into it. It was late at night, and roommate was already fast asleep.
There was a pause on the other side and then a short "Meet me outside. I'll be waiting in the park," and then a click and the line went dead.
Charlotte's heart beat faster as she recognized the voice on the other side as John's. She knew he would try to contact her after a while, but she wasn't ready right now. Her head raced, but she grabbed a jacket and tiptoed out of the house.
John was waiting for her in the light of the lamppost in the park. He was sitting on the bench, fidgeting nervously with his hands. His head was down and Charlotte could only see the back of his head as she approached.
"John?" She called him softly. He whipped his head around, and his eyes widened as if he had not actually expected her to come. She could see his body tense slightly, then he stood up, abruptly, as if a second thought. She walked over to him and sat on the bench, patting on the seat beside her to invite him to sit down again. He did, after a pause, and opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to say something but didn't know what.
"I love you, Char," John blurted out. His voice was quiet, as if he was willing her not to hear his words, but firm, sure of what he meant. "I loved you from the moment I saw you, I loved you while I was waiting for you to love me back. I loved you when you did and I loved you when I had to leave you. Goddamn, I love you so much that even now it hurts to even look at you. I love you." His eyes were red, glistening in the lamp light. He would understand if she didn't feel the same. He had hurt her, but he had to say this now, before he regretted it for the rest of his life.
Charlotte could not believe her ears. She tensed, drawing her arms around her as if chilled by the night air. Her cheeked flushed, and she hoped the color was hidden by the darkness. The words John spoke pierced her through the heart. She loved him too, God knows. She loved him so much. But he had hurt her so much. She didn't think she could recover when he left her. Her eyes began to flood with tears, and John grabbed her arms, softly, and held her hands in his.
"I know I hurt you, Char. I know I shouldn't have left when I did, or at least I should have contacted you. I tried, you have no idea how many times I tried. Every time I picked up the phone I could just about smell you, feel your warmth, hear your voice in my ears. But I knew I hurt you, and I couldn't bear the thought of you hating me. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His voice was cracking, and Charlotte could feel his body trembling through the hands that held hers.
"I forgive you." Charlotte felt the words slip from her tongue, resonating with the meaning coming from her heart. "I love you." The second set of words choked out of her, but as soon as they escaped, she knew she meant them with all her heart. He had hurt her, yes, but it was the very fact that she had loved him so much, and still loved him, that it was able to hurt that much. She knew in her soul that this kind of love was too precious to let go. They had a lot to talk about, yes, but they were finally together.
John's entire body visibly relaxed as he pulled her body firmly into his, relieved. She didn't hate him. He would have utterly fallen to pieces if she had not felt the same. His mind raced. She loved him, she loved him, she loved him. Now, her body in his, holding his waist as if it were her lifeline, he felt whole again. Now, whatever faced him, he would be able to handle it because she was with him, and because she loved him back.
The end.
There was a pause on the other side and then a short "Meet me outside. I'll be waiting in the park," and then a click and the line went dead.
Charlotte's heart beat faster as she recognized the voice on the other side as John's. She knew he would try to contact her after a while, but she wasn't ready right now. Her head raced, but she grabbed a jacket and tiptoed out of the house.
John was waiting for her in the light of the lamppost in the park. He was sitting on the bench, fidgeting nervously with his hands. His head was down and Charlotte could only see the back of his head as she approached.
"John?" She called him softly. He whipped his head around, and his eyes widened as if he had not actually expected her to come. She could see his body tense slightly, then he stood up, abruptly, as if a second thought. She walked over to him and sat on the bench, patting on the seat beside her to invite him to sit down again. He did, after a pause, and opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to say something but didn't know what.
"I love you, Char," John blurted out. His voice was quiet, as if he was willing her not to hear his words, but firm, sure of what he meant. "I loved you from the moment I saw you, I loved you while I was waiting for you to love me back. I loved you when you did and I loved you when I had to leave you. Goddamn, I love you so much that even now it hurts to even look at you. I love you." His eyes were red, glistening in the lamp light. He would understand if she didn't feel the same. He had hurt her, but he had to say this now, before he regretted it for the rest of his life.
Charlotte could not believe her ears. She tensed, drawing her arms around her as if chilled by the night air. Her cheeked flushed, and she hoped the color was hidden by the darkness. The words John spoke pierced her through the heart. She loved him too, God knows. She loved him so much. But he had hurt her so much. She didn't think she could recover when he left her. Her eyes began to flood with tears, and John grabbed her arms, softly, and held her hands in his.
"I know I hurt you, Char. I know I shouldn't have left when I did, or at least I should have contacted you. I tried, you have no idea how many times I tried. Every time I picked up the phone I could just about smell you, feel your warmth, hear your voice in my ears. But I knew I hurt you, and I couldn't bear the thought of you hating me. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His voice was cracking, and Charlotte could feel his body trembling through the hands that held hers.
"I forgive you." Charlotte felt the words slip from her tongue, resonating with the meaning coming from her heart. "I love you." The second set of words choked out of her, but as soon as they escaped, she knew she meant them with all her heart. He had hurt her, yes, but it was the very fact that she had loved him so much, and still loved him, that it was able to hurt that much. She knew in her soul that this kind of love was too precious to let go. They had a lot to talk about, yes, but they were finally together.
John's entire body visibly relaxed as he pulled her body firmly into his, relieved. She didn't hate him. He would have utterly fallen to pieces if she had not felt the same. His mind raced. She loved him, she loved him, she loved him. Now, her body in his, holding his waist as if it were her lifeline, he felt whole again. Now, whatever faced him, he would be able to handle it because she was with him, and because she loved him back.
The end.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Chapter 62: A Summer Love, Revisited Pt.4
John sat in his apartment, the only things in the room were a bed, a lamp, a table, and the chair on which he currently sat. His phone was in front of him, and he was debating whether or not to call Charlotte. She had made it clear to him that she needed time before she saw him again. That is, if she ever wanted to see him again.
He groaned and put his head in his hands. When he had gotten the phone call from his father, he had been devastated. He remembered his vision going black for a while, and having a small panic attack. His father had been there for him all his life, raising him alone after his mother had died. They were closer than normal parents and children, like best friends. Even when John had moved to the United States from London, he still Skyped with his dad every night, telling him about his day. When he had met Charlotte, his dad had been the first to know.
John remembered telling his dad all about the girl he had met at University, who wore bright yellow dresses and smelled like peaches. He had gushed to his father about her bright orange hair and her emerald green eyes. And those freckles splayed across her cheeks like constellations. He had confessed to his father that after that first day, he had known that she was the girl he wanted to marry.
So when the phone call came, John had had no other thought in his mind than to rush to his father's side. The operation would happen as soon as John arrived in London, and he wanted to be there for his dad just like his dad had been there for him all his life.
When his father died, after a year of taking care of him after his operation, John had been left with nothing. No remaining family, no money (as he had spent everything he earned, working two jobs and doing odd jobs on the side, on his father's hospital bills), and no Charlotte. It was in those days, those nights after he had been working all day, coming home after all the shops were closed, that he missed her the most.
He remembered their first date. She had worn a baby pink sweater and a pair of faded blue jeans, and the combination had knocked his heart into his throat. He could barely speak a word to her the whole date, and she thought he had hated the date. It was only afterward that he was able to assure her, repeatedly and with much stammering, that that was certainly not the case.
When John had finally scraped together the money to see her again, it had passed two years. Then, he had been filled with worries that Charlotte had already forgotten him, and found herself in the arms of another. He had tried to get those images out of his mind, but the thought of Charlotte with someone else tormented him.
And then he had finally made his way back to America. And he went to a restaurant with his friends to catch up after all that time had passed, not expecting to see her there. But when he saw her, all of his thoughts left him, her face still perfect, her eyes still piercing green, her body still small but defiant. And when he had seen her with another man, his heart fell into his feet. Had he gotten to her too late? But as the minutes passed, he could see from just their body language that it was just a first date. Nothing serious. She even looked bored, or uncomfortable, like she wasn't used to dating again, just yet.
He had quickly pulled aside a waiter, slipped him a twenty, and asked him to "accidentally" spill a drink on the couple sitting at that table. He had gestured to Charlotte and her unknown suitor, and gave the waiter a pleading look. "Please," he had whispered, "She's the love of my life." And when the waiter saw the earnest look in his eyes, he had relented and agreed.
John remembered waiting for his opportunity, and then slipping away from his friends to sit across from Charlotte. His Charlotte. Her serious, detached remarked pierced his heart. ""Please, John. Please leave. I can't." Her words had wounded him. If she only knew everything he had gone through to get to this point, to see her face once again... Did she even love him still? He had left the restaurant quickly, body numb, heartbroken.
And he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw her again. The way she looked sitting there, with a cup of tea in her hand, reminded him of their study dates together, before they had confessed to one another. He remembered the constant refills of pots of tea, trying to keep themselves awake as they studied for the upcoming midterm, only to find their hearts beating quickly at their close proximities to each other, wondering if it was the caffeine that had them feeling this way.
And she had walked away from him then, as well. He hadn't gotten the chance to explain himself. At least, not fully. She hadn't given him the time. She didn't know yet. How much he loved her.
John stared at his phone. If he called her now, she might be disturbed. Would she think he was a stalker? He had already run into her unaware two times. And she had left him both times.
But then again, if he didn't call her, when would he have the chance to see her again? He needed her to know. He needed to know if she felt the same way. He picked up the phone.
He groaned and put his head in his hands. When he had gotten the phone call from his father, he had been devastated. He remembered his vision going black for a while, and having a small panic attack. His father had been there for him all his life, raising him alone after his mother had died. They were closer than normal parents and children, like best friends. Even when John had moved to the United States from London, he still Skyped with his dad every night, telling him about his day. When he had met Charlotte, his dad had been the first to know.
John remembered telling his dad all about the girl he had met at University, who wore bright yellow dresses and smelled like peaches. He had gushed to his father about her bright orange hair and her emerald green eyes. And those freckles splayed across her cheeks like constellations. He had confessed to his father that after that first day, he had known that she was the girl he wanted to marry.
So when the phone call came, John had had no other thought in his mind than to rush to his father's side. The operation would happen as soon as John arrived in London, and he wanted to be there for his dad just like his dad had been there for him all his life.
When his father died, after a year of taking care of him after his operation, John had been left with nothing. No remaining family, no money (as he had spent everything he earned, working two jobs and doing odd jobs on the side, on his father's hospital bills), and no Charlotte. It was in those days, those nights after he had been working all day, coming home after all the shops were closed, that he missed her the most.
He remembered their first date. She had worn a baby pink sweater and a pair of faded blue jeans, and the combination had knocked his heart into his throat. He could barely speak a word to her the whole date, and she thought he had hated the date. It was only afterward that he was able to assure her, repeatedly and with much stammering, that that was certainly not the case.
When John had finally scraped together the money to see her again, it had passed two years. Then, he had been filled with worries that Charlotte had already forgotten him, and found herself in the arms of another. He had tried to get those images out of his mind, but the thought of Charlotte with someone else tormented him.
And then he had finally made his way back to America. And he went to a restaurant with his friends to catch up after all that time had passed, not expecting to see her there. But when he saw her, all of his thoughts left him, her face still perfect, her eyes still piercing green, her body still small but defiant. And when he had seen her with another man, his heart fell into his feet. Had he gotten to her too late? But as the minutes passed, he could see from just their body language that it was just a first date. Nothing serious. She even looked bored, or uncomfortable, like she wasn't used to dating again, just yet.
He had quickly pulled aside a waiter, slipped him a twenty, and asked him to "accidentally" spill a drink on the couple sitting at that table. He had gestured to Charlotte and her unknown suitor, and gave the waiter a pleading look. "Please," he had whispered, "She's the love of my life." And when the waiter saw the earnest look in his eyes, he had relented and agreed.
John remembered waiting for his opportunity, and then slipping away from his friends to sit across from Charlotte. His Charlotte. Her serious, detached remarked pierced his heart. ""Please, John. Please leave. I can't." Her words had wounded him. If she only knew everything he had gone through to get to this point, to see her face once again... Did she even love him still? He had left the restaurant quickly, body numb, heartbroken.
And he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw her again. The way she looked sitting there, with a cup of tea in her hand, reminded him of their study dates together, before they had confessed to one another. He remembered the constant refills of pots of tea, trying to keep themselves awake as they studied for the upcoming midterm, only to find their hearts beating quickly at their close proximities to each other, wondering if it was the caffeine that had them feeling this way.
And she had walked away from him then, as well. He hadn't gotten the chance to explain himself. At least, not fully. She hadn't given him the time. She didn't know yet. How much he loved her.
John stared at his phone. If he called her now, she might be disturbed. Would she think he was a stalker? He had already run into her unaware two times. And she had left him both times.
But then again, if he didn't call her, when would he have the chance to see her again? He needed her to know. He needed to know if she felt the same way. He picked up the phone.
Chapter 61: Summer Love, Revisited Pt.3
Six days had passed since she last heard from John. No word, and she was pretty sure he still had her old address, email, and even her phone number. They had all stayed the same since he had left three years ago. Charlotte sat on her bed, trying to read a book. She had been on the same page for the past 30 minutes; her thoughts were filled instead with the conversation she had with John.
Charlotte felt her phone buzz. She checked the screen: "Hey girl, I just got back from work! What did you want to talk about?" It was a text from her best friend, Talia. Talia worked as a journalist, and worked odd hours as a result.
Charlotte texted back: "Can you meet me at my place? I'll make some coffee, and theres some leftover pizza in the fridge." The response was immediate: "Ofc, on my way!"
Talia came over almost immediately, admitting when the door was opened that she had already been on her way to surprise Charlotte with pastries. "The more the merrier!" Charlotte exclaimed, eyeing the chocolate eclairs in the bag Talia brought in with her.
"So...What's the gossip? I wanna know everything." Talia leaned on the counter, her eyes sparkling. She had just come back from covering a big story about a robbery at the bank and was in a good mood from having gotten to the scene first.
Charlotte sighed, not knowing where to start. She knew it wasn't John's fault that he had to leave her. Of course he had to - his dad had been dying. Charlotte knew she would have done the same thing. But she had been so heartbroken when he left. They had secretly loved each other for years, and that summer, the summer when they had finally confessed their feelings to each other, had been the best few months of her life. When he left, she couldn't leave her bed for weeks. Talia had come over to take care of her then, and had been horrified at the lack of hygiene in that room. It took all of Charlotte's strength and a lot of Talia's prodding and comfort to get her showered and functional. And it had taken even longer for Charlotte to even talk to another man again. She had closed up her heart so shut for so long.
"John...he's back in town." Charlotte told her softly, her eyes locked on Talia's to look for some sort of response. Talia's face contorted in anger. "What???!? That punk?? Where is he?? I'll kill him!"
Charlotte laughed a little and grabbed Talia's arm to hold her back. "No, it's okay... we saw each other a week ago and he wanted to talk to me." Talia relaxed a little. "Well, what did he say?" she asked.
And then Charlotte told her everything that had happened, why she acted the way she did, as Talia nodded, listening to everything.
"What should I do?" Charlotte buried her head in her hands. Talia came around the counter to sit with Charlotte at the table. She put her arm around Charlotte in an attempt to comfort her.
"Well," Talia started, "Do you still love him?" Charlotte looked down her hands. "I think I do." She admitted to Talia, and a little to herself.
"Then. Tell him." Talia told her firmly. "I know he hurt you. But he didn't want to. And obviously he still loves you. I know there's so much pain between you two, but I also know how happy you were when you were together. I was there. I know you two belong together."
"But what if he leaves again? What if..." Charlotte trailed off, thinking of the possibilities. She didn't want to feel that kind of pain ever again, if she could avoid it.
"Honey," Talia held Charlotte's hand with one hand and grabbed a chocolate eclair with another. "Love hurts. But it's worth it."
Charlotte felt her phone buzz. She checked the screen: "Hey girl, I just got back from work! What did you want to talk about?" It was a text from her best friend, Talia. Talia worked as a journalist, and worked odd hours as a result.
Charlotte texted back: "Can you meet me at my place? I'll make some coffee, and theres some leftover pizza in the fridge." The response was immediate: "Ofc, on my way!"
Talia came over almost immediately, admitting when the door was opened that she had already been on her way to surprise Charlotte with pastries. "The more the merrier!" Charlotte exclaimed, eyeing the chocolate eclairs in the bag Talia brought in with her.
"So...What's the gossip? I wanna know everything." Talia leaned on the counter, her eyes sparkling. She had just come back from covering a big story about a robbery at the bank and was in a good mood from having gotten to the scene first.
Charlotte sighed, not knowing where to start. She knew it wasn't John's fault that he had to leave her. Of course he had to - his dad had been dying. Charlotte knew she would have done the same thing. But she had been so heartbroken when he left. They had secretly loved each other for years, and that summer, the summer when they had finally confessed their feelings to each other, had been the best few months of her life. When he left, she couldn't leave her bed for weeks. Talia had come over to take care of her then, and had been horrified at the lack of hygiene in that room. It took all of Charlotte's strength and a lot of Talia's prodding and comfort to get her showered and functional. And it had taken even longer for Charlotte to even talk to another man again. She had closed up her heart so shut for so long.
"John...he's back in town." Charlotte told her softly, her eyes locked on Talia's to look for some sort of response. Talia's face contorted in anger. "What???!? That punk?? Where is he?? I'll kill him!"
Charlotte laughed a little and grabbed Talia's arm to hold her back. "No, it's okay... we saw each other a week ago and he wanted to talk to me." Talia relaxed a little. "Well, what did he say?" she asked.
And then Charlotte told her everything that had happened, why she acted the way she did, as Talia nodded, listening to everything.
"What should I do?" Charlotte buried her head in her hands. Talia came around the counter to sit with Charlotte at the table. She put her arm around Charlotte in an attempt to comfort her.
"Well," Talia started, "Do you still love him?" Charlotte looked down her hands. "I think I do." She admitted to Talia, and a little to herself.
"Then. Tell him." Talia told her firmly. "I know he hurt you. But he didn't want to. And obviously he still loves you. I know there's so much pain between you two, but I also know how happy you were when you were together. I was there. I know you two belong together."
"But what if he leaves again? What if..." Charlotte trailed off, thinking of the possibilities. She didn't want to feel that kind of pain ever again, if she could avoid it.
"Honey," Talia held Charlotte's hand with one hand and grabbed a chocolate eclair with another. "Love hurts. But it's worth it."
Chapter 60: Summer Love, Revisited Pt. 2
Charlotte sat in a cafe the next morning, sipping on a cup of breakfast tea and thinking about what had transpired the night before. John. John was back in town, and he wanted to tell her something. It had seemed important, from the urgency in his voice. But Charlotte knew she couldn't face him. It was too much for her and she knew she was too weak to see him again. That feeling in the pit of her stomach as soon as she had seen him dangerously reminded her of the months she had spent crying at night, trying to forget him.
She groaned and rested her head on her arms.
"Tired, Charlotte?" a voice came suddenly, but gently. Charlotte recognized the low voice and sat back, startled. "John."
"Look, I wasn't going to see you again after last night. I saw how disturbed you looked and when you said you didn't want to see me, it just broke my heart. But looking at you now, I couldn't help myself." He looked sheepish, apologetic. She looked down. She couldn't meet his eyes. She knew she would crack if she did.
"Please, Char. I just want to know how you've been doing and, when you're more comfortable, try to explain myself." His voice was more quiet now, pleading. She made the mistake of looking at him. He looked smart, like yesterday, although it was not the same semi-formal outfit he had been wearing at the restaurant. He was dressed in a sightly crinkled blue button down and a pair of dark blue jeans. He wore a pair of brown oxfords and the glasses they had picked out together, the ones with blue rectangle frames.
His eyes shone through the lenses and locked with hers with a sort of earnest desperation. She melted. Her stomach clenched, and her heart was beating faster than usual. The blush crept into her cheeks as he held her eyes with a steadfast gaze, and she hoped he hadn't noticed the pink in her face.
"Okay John, let's talk." She said, resignedly, fighting with the rational part of her brain. "How have you been?"
John smiled, his thankful smile melting her heart as his shoulders relaxed a little. "Char, I've missed you so much. You have no idea."
"I think I have some idea." Charlotte stared at him, her voice accusing. "You left me without explanation. I thought we had something, John."
John looked down. "I went to London," he started. "My father called me, you remember, and asked me to come take care of him." He looked back up at her, his eyes searching hers for understanding.
Charlotte shook her head. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have understood. And we could have worked something out. I loved you! At least... I did."
John smiled bitterly. "It all happened so fast. My father had cancer. It was stage four...terminal. I could barely think, let alone get myself to his side before his operation. The doctors wanted to operate one last time to see if they could buy him any more time. They gave him barely a year to live. I stayed by his side for as long as I could, working two jobs to pay for his hospital bills. I didn't have any time to contact you. I barely had enough time to sleep." John shook his head. "I thought about you every night, Char. I've only thought of you for all this time."
Charlotte shut her eyes, tight. She didn't have the emotional capacity for this, not right now. She had been heartbroken when John left. She had only been able to put him out of her mind enough to try to move on about a year ago, and now he just shows up out of the blue? She shook her head.
"John, I'll talk to you later, please."
"Charlotte..." John stood up as Charlotte started packing her things and heading toward the door.
"Not now, John. I'm sorry, this is too much for me to handle. I'll talk to you some other time."
"Just..." John held her hand for a second, gently, as if afraid that she would never appear before his eyes again. "Just.. please think about what I said. I love you, Char."
"Goodbye, John."
Chapter 59: Summer Love, Revisited
She didn't know why the look in his eyes hit her like a ton of bricks. There was a sort of yearning, a deep burning longing that struck her hard and fast. Even though he was across a room full of people, and even though she hadn't seen him in three years, she had caught his eye as soon as she stepped into the room. And now she couldn't look away.
John, the boy she had loved a while ago. She couldn't remember if she still did, but as their eyes held each other, she could feel the familiar wrenching of her heart and gut. They had been in love, yes. And the summer they had finally confessed their mutual love for each other and had been in a blissful state of togetherness had been heavenly and much too short. But then he had moved away without any sort of explanation. He had said goodbye and left her, all alone and empty.
But now he was back. He was sitting at a booth in that crowded restaurant with three other people, whom she could not focus on enough to recognize. They were all chatting and laughing a bit loudly, at home with the bustling atmosphere of the place. He alone was sitting upright, mouth still and closed, eyes fixed on hers.
She was able to tear her eyes away when she was jolted back to reality by a tug on her arm. "Come on honey, they can seat us now." Her date led her gently to the table the stewardess was leading them toward. She could feel John's eyes follow her and her cheeks burned, but she kept her head down and followed her date. She had been burned once and would not fall for the same thing again.
They were now seated. A waiter came by to get their drink orders. Her date ordered some wine for them both, and she smiled and nodded her agreement, only half engaged in what was happening at the moment. She could feel John's eyes boring into her back. "So, what kind of work do you do," she asked her date, trying to distract herself. She glanced behind her, at the booth across the room, and caught John's eye. She quickly turned around.
"Well, I'm really into stocks... I'm just an accountant, but I think I have a real knack for these kinds of things, you see." Her date started to talk excitedly, encouraged by her smile. She nodded along to his words as he went on, still only partially listening. The waiter came by with their wine, and set up the ice beside the table. He popped open the cork, but the bottle slipped from his hands, tipping and spilling all over her date's shirt and lap. They both jumped up with a small shout of surprise.
"I'm so sorry monsieur, madame, I am so very sorry. I will clean that up for you right away. Oh, Monsieur, your shirt! Please, please come with me, I will try to help you get the stain out. Please, right this way, monsieur." The waiter, desperately dabbing at the deep red droplets on the man's shirt and lap, frantically ushered him away to the bathroom and he followed, too surprised to speak.
She sat back in her chair, a little frazzled. Her date was gone now, and she was sitting at the table alone. A man pulled out the seat beside her. She looked up, startled, at John's serious brown eyes staring back at hers.
"Charlotte."
"John, what are you doing here?"
"I had to come speak to you, as soon as I saw you come in. I just had to speak to you."
Charlotte shook her head. "No, John, please leave. You saw that I was with someone, and he's going to come back soon. It'll be rude if I'm here chatting with someone else when he comes back."
John smirked. "That French fry? Charlotte, you and I both know you're better than that. You deserve better than that."
"I'll have you know," said Charlotte curtly, "Brian is a very sweet man. He's kind and wholesome."
"Boring," John snorted, rolling his eyes a little. "You were bored out of your mind, I saw it. Come with me, Charlotte." John leaned in closer to her. "Please."
He looked at her with steady eyes. "I need to explain myself and I won't forgive myself if I don't."
"No," Charlotte shook her head, disturbed. "Please, John. Please leave. I can't."
John looked down. "Charlotte, I... Okay. I'll see you around, I guess." He walked away quickly back to his booth and, after a few minutes, left the restaurant entirely.
John, the boy she had loved a while ago. She couldn't remember if she still did, but as their eyes held each other, she could feel the familiar wrenching of her heart and gut. They had been in love, yes. And the summer they had finally confessed their mutual love for each other and had been in a blissful state of togetherness had been heavenly and much too short. But then he had moved away without any sort of explanation. He had said goodbye and left her, all alone and empty.
But now he was back. He was sitting at a booth in that crowded restaurant with three other people, whom she could not focus on enough to recognize. They were all chatting and laughing a bit loudly, at home with the bustling atmosphere of the place. He alone was sitting upright, mouth still and closed, eyes fixed on hers.
She was able to tear her eyes away when she was jolted back to reality by a tug on her arm. "Come on honey, they can seat us now." Her date led her gently to the table the stewardess was leading them toward. She could feel John's eyes follow her and her cheeks burned, but she kept her head down and followed her date. She had been burned once and would not fall for the same thing again.
They were now seated. A waiter came by to get their drink orders. Her date ordered some wine for them both, and she smiled and nodded her agreement, only half engaged in what was happening at the moment. She could feel John's eyes boring into her back. "So, what kind of work do you do," she asked her date, trying to distract herself. She glanced behind her, at the booth across the room, and caught John's eye. She quickly turned around.
"Well, I'm really into stocks... I'm just an accountant, but I think I have a real knack for these kinds of things, you see." Her date started to talk excitedly, encouraged by her smile. She nodded along to his words as he went on, still only partially listening. The waiter came by with their wine, and set up the ice beside the table. He popped open the cork, but the bottle slipped from his hands, tipping and spilling all over her date's shirt and lap. They both jumped up with a small shout of surprise.
"I'm so sorry monsieur, madame, I am so very sorry. I will clean that up for you right away. Oh, Monsieur, your shirt! Please, please come with me, I will try to help you get the stain out. Please, right this way, monsieur." The waiter, desperately dabbing at the deep red droplets on the man's shirt and lap, frantically ushered him away to the bathroom and he followed, too surprised to speak.
She sat back in her chair, a little frazzled. Her date was gone now, and she was sitting at the table alone. A man pulled out the seat beside her. She looked up, startled, at John's serious brown eyes staring back at hers.
"Charlotte."
"John, what are you doing here?"
"I had to come speak to you, as soon as I saw you come in. I just had to speak to you."
Charlotte shook her head. "No, John, please leave. You saw that I was with someone, and he's going to come back soon. It'll be rude if I'm here chatting with someone else when he comes back."
John smirked. "That French fry? Charlotte, you and I both know you're better than that. You deserve better than that."
"I'll have you know," said Charlotte curtly, "Brian is a very sweet man. He's kind and wholesome."
"Boring," John snorted, rolling his eyes a little. "You were bored out of your mind, I saw it. Come with me, Charlotte." John leaned in closer to her. "Please."
He looked at her with steady eyes. "I need to explain myself and I won't forgive myself if I don't."
"No," Charlotte shook her head, disturbed. "Please, John. Please leave. I can't."
John looked down. "Charlotte, I... Okay. I'll see you around, I guess." He walked away quickly back to his booth and, after a few minutes, left the restaurant entirely.
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