Sunday, March 25, 2018

Day 81, 2, 3.

He was about to order another scotch, but decided against it. If he did decide to speak to her, he wanted his wits about him. He wanted his words and his thoughts clear.  He glanced in her direction. She had ordered her chocolate cake. The man was still at the table. He wasn't sure; it was almost imperceptible, but he thought she seemed disinterested. After all these years, he still felt he could read her. Or maybe he never could. 

When he thought back to that day, he saw her face clearly. She didn't react at all. No tears. No words. Nothing. She just kept eating her chocolate cake. She loved that cake! But did she love him? Her lack of any sort of response made him think otherwise. He left feeling certain he was making the right decision. She wouldn't miss him anyway. 

It would be years before he realized that what he had seen in her face wasn't disinterest. It was shock. That's when decided to set things straight and apologize for not only the biggest mistake he ever made but for not understanding and for ignoring her feelings so callously that day. She would certainly have been incredibly confused by what had happened. Did she ever understand any of what he told her that day? His reasons? His choice? He assumed she didn't. 

On a feeling one Monday, he went to the restaurant that they had visited so frequently back then. As he neared the front door,  he saw her enter. He did not follow. He went back the next month. And the next. And the next. He worked up the courage one day to look inside. He watched as she ordered. She got a cocktail instead of a soda. She really had grown up, and he missed all of it. But she was there. She got the chicken parmigiana just like she always used to. There was hope. 

Today, he went inside. Now it seemed like he waited too long. She had her company. Was she enjoying herself? Why interrupt if she was?  He could wait until she left and catch her on the way out. Or, he could come back next month, but that would be yet another month of waiting, of the guilt, of the dread, of the not knowing. Who's to say she would even come back next month? Then what would be do? No. It had to be tonight. He couldn't wait any longer. 

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