She held me close, hugging me tighter than I was expecting. My breath exploded out in an ecstatic sigh.
It was two years since I last saw her.
Me: I was a 20-something drifter. I'd held multiple jobs and places of residing since being with her.
Her: She was the beautiful, talented girl of my dreams - that I let slip away.
It was two years since I last saw her.
She called me up, out of the blue, and asked to go to lunch. I, still being in love with her, even after all that time, accepted immediately. She sounded hesitant and nervous - which tore into my heart ever further.
I offered a place we could meet - a somewhat expensive restaurant in the richest neighborhood around (also very close to the slum I was living in - just in case things progressed to that point). She countered with a hole-in-the-wall place near her - and her parents' - home. This was more in line with what we both would frequent anyway -- and who was I to say no to her? -- and ended up being our destination.
We met in the parking lot of this Dim Sum spot. I was, as I usually am, disheveled and unshaven. I wore my pea-coat - the fanciest thing I owned, other than my suit-coat which was reserved for funerals and job interviews.
She wore a flowing summer dress that was simultaneously sexy and reserved - a magic trick she pulled off flawlessly.
We exchanged awkward and quick hello's, and headed into the restaurant.
I watched her walk slightly ahead of me, with a confidence I remembered from our past. We reached the door and I did the gentlemanly thing - the thing she taught me to do so long ago - and made sure I held the door open for her.
She smiled - that beautiful, pure smile I would remember always - and thanked me as she walked past. I caught of a whiff of her perfume - the slight scent of gardenias, her favorite flower, nearly knocked me into the netherworld. I caught my balance - and regained my senses - and followed her into the darkened restaurant.
The maitre d' seated us quickly. The restaurant was beautiful and packed. Most tables held Asian business-men, speaking quickly and in hushed tones. At one table sat a family of 4. The parents ate in silence while their teenage daughter tended to their adolescent son - who insisted his straw was created for the sole purpose of blowing milk bubbles and that his chop sticks were, in fact, very thin drumsticks.
Our table sat in the middle of the room. I pulled her chair out for her, and she smiled sheepishly. My heart leaped at the reaction, as I pulled off my coat and draped it over the back of my chair - an action she used to find both uncouth and endearing.
I looked at her from across the table, and we both showed hints of a smile - though neither would fully commit.
The waiter arrived immediately and poured our tea and a glass of water. Without a word he disappeared into the darkness of the kitchen.
A tiny Chinese girl, no older than 16, in a silk dress, pushed a cart to our table. Wordlessly, as if she'd done this a million times (which, really, she may have), my love pointed at seemingly random dishes on the cart - then told me to pick what I liked. I had no idea - my heart was in my throat, so asking was out of the question, and I randomly pointed at two dishes. Both looked at me, bemused, before the cart girl put our food on the table and left.
The waiter and cart pusher and maitre d' gone, we looked at each other from across the table. A lock of her shining black hair fell onto her forehead. Instinctively I brushed it aside for her. Halfway through the motion we both realized what was happening, and smiled at each other.
I can swear I saw a tear starting to form in her eye.
We ate our food in silence at first, before she began to speak - her mouth still chewing noodles, mine full of - well, I wasn't sure what at the time.
We exchanged pleasantries - "Oh, it's nice to see you again." "How've you been?" "Food is good." - so on and so forth.
"I've missed you," she said, breaking into the heart of our hearts.
"This food is amazing!" I said, my own heart breaking as I did so.
She smiled patiently, sniffing out my defenses immediately.
We ate in silence for a bit.
"I'm impressed." She said.
I smiled sheepishly, not sure what she was referring to - but feeling that swelling of pride anyway.
"I never thought you'd order pig brains - and then actually eat them!" She continued.
I tried not to vomit as I chugged a tiny glass of boiling hot green tea.
She smiled.
"I've changed a lot since we last talked," she said, sheepishly. "I've... I've found God. I go to church twice a week now. My parents are moving away soon. I started volunteering at the hospital again. I know what I want to do now. I'm involved with the deaf community - I go to Starbucks every Thursday for a deaf students meeting. I still have our rabbit. I've changed a lot, really. I got a new car - you saw it outside. I'm a lot more mature now."
I nodded and added non-committal grunts between each sentence.
I loved her - I always had.
When we were together - or, more likely the case, immediately after our relationship ended - I made her a promise. I told her that, no matter what was happening in my life, no matter who I was in a relationship with, I would always come running back to her - because she was, and would always be, the love of my life.
I broke that promise.
She told me all about her new life - the life of someone pure of heart, trying to either fix the world or make amends for mistakes of the past. Or both.
I nodded and added non-committal grunts between each sentence.
While she spoke I thought of a girl I'd recently met - a girl the exact opposite of the one sitting across from me.
This new girl bled spontaneity and passion and danger. And I was enthralled. And my heart was - as it often is - confused.
I sat apart from my past love and could not differentiate the feelings I had for her from the ones from the newer beauty. I closed my eyes and thought to myself: The girl here, now, broke my heart. The one I've just met hasn't -- that has to mean something!!
We ate our food in relative silence -- we each would offer tidbits about our new lives -- she telling me of her loving exquisite endeavors; me telling of the doldrums that constructed my life. It was, all told, pleasant enough - and I surely enjoyed the pleasure of such a beautiful young woman at lunch. The entirety of the restaurant noticed her warmth, and basked in it.
The waiter came with our bill - a sizable sum - and I immediately picked it up. Though I may be a lout, I am not without my flashes of chivalry.
She protested - but I insisted.
"You shouldn't pay for me," she said sweetly.
"I have to - consider it an early -- or late, for the ones I've missed - birthday present!"
She smiled - a smile that could end all wars. A smile that could melt the coldest heart.
"You're so sweet," she said. "OK - just this once. But next time, I'm buying!"
I couldn't help but smile at the idea of a next time.
Her 24th birthday was mere days away - and a small party was already planned.
"Hey - I'm having a birthday party at my friend's house soon -- I sent you an e-vite, but it's OK if you can't come. You won't know anyone there, except me, and I know how you hated stuff like that..." she let her sentence drift into the void between us.
"I really wish I could go," I said, meaning every word, "but I have to work that day - and there's no way I can get it off."
"That's alright," she said, with the slightest hint of disappointment. Then, brightening, "Maybe we can have lunch next weekend!"
I smiled and nodded.
"Sure - that'd be nice."
I paid the bill - despite her continuing protests - and we got up to leave. I put on my coat - stinking of cigarettes and beer - and walked her out the door and to her car.
We paused for a second, outside her car, as we looked each other in the eye. We both smiled as she reached for the handle, then paused.
She turned to me, and said "I'm going to give you a hug."
She did.
The hug was more than friendly, and lingered. She first rested her head on my shoulder and I relished the feeling of her warmth against me. I smelled the sweetness of her soap and shampoo - she never wore perfume, didn't need it - so close it enveloped me. I felt her arms around me, my arms around hers - a perfect union.
She pulled away ever so slightly, and whispered in my ear, "I've missed you," before giving me a peck on the cheek - and placed her head on my shoulder again.
What I wanted to say was "I love you." Or "I've missed you to." Or anything of any substance.
Instead I told her "It was nice seeing you again," as I broke our embrace.
My heart and head was swimming.
I didn't know what to feel about this meeting, about the new girl I'd fallen for, about myself. I loved them all - both girls and my new-found sense of identity.
I kissed her on the cheek, said we'd be in touch, and walked away.
It was two years since I had last seen her.
Two days after our lunch, she sent me a message saying she enjoyed seeing me again - and hoped to see me again soon.
I didn't reply.
When we were closer I promised I would always go running back to her.
One week after our lunch, she left me a voicemail saying she really wanted to talk to me - and that she missed me still.
I didn't reply.
I was beginning to fall in love with a new girl - and was never the type to stray, even from imaginary love.
When we were together - and when we parted - I promised her my heart would always be only hers.
Two weeks after our lunch she was gone forever, passed into the grey beyond.
I broke my promise to her.
and I will never forgive myself.
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