I sat in the old coffee house waiting. It just started raining outside and I could see people running to find shelter from the cold rainwater. It was pretty unusual to rain this time of the year. I felt like it reflected on the day I had ahead of me. Pretty unusual. I sat with in the far corner of the warm and cosy coffee shop, pretending to read a book my mother gave me about how to embrace life. I never read past the title. The comfortable vibe of the coffee house failed to wash over me. My eyes kept flashing towards the door every 3 seconds. The waiter noticed me and I think he saw the eager, anticipation and fear in my eyes. I composed my face and started reading a random page from the book in my hand. "Sometimes life seems unfair and we are immersed into cursing everything and everyone for it. The person that we end up hating the most is ourselves. What we fail to realise is, it is only us that can help ourselves" What a load of crap.
I hated these lines and it was not the first time I had heard them. My family and my friends have been pretty adamant about how I need to pull myself up and "help myself". That never helped, I already knew that before anyone ever told me. It was so hard to explain to them that I cannot indeed help myself. If that were possible I would be doing it and not listening to all these pathetic pep talks. It had been six months since my ex-boyfriend Dylan left for Germany for his masters, and seven months since he dumped me for the girl he's in a long distance relationship with right now. That is when I decided to take a break from "life". I was certainly not at a good place. I graduated two years ago, I left my masters mid-way to pursue another field, and failed to get through it. The break up came when I was at my worse in life. When I was sitting there without career prospects or anything to be happy about, that's when he moved out because he fell in love with someone else. Worse of all, I lost my health and gained weight and started looking much older. It felt like I lost my youth back then. I hit rock bottom and decided to go home to my parents. I felt bad for them that they had to see me this way, but I knew I wasn't heading anywhere good in this mental state and I had to get away from the city.
The waiter broke my reverie as he bought the Irish latte to my table. And as I came back to present, started getting worried for what I had planned today. After six months of living with my parents, I came back and realised I have no idea what to do. I was living at a friend's apartment who had gone away for a vacation and I had a week to find a job and my own place. And after a few days of struggling I finally gathered the courage to call Patrick.
Patrick Wilson, my first real boyfriend. We dated for a few months in high school and ended up in the same city for college, so we were together for another one and a half years until he dumped me for a better girl. But that wasn't really a disaster. I was obviously heartbroken but I had a life and friends and college. That's the time me and Dylan got close. I hadn't seen Patrick in 5 years and I last spoke to him 2 years back. But when I called him this morning, I knew he'd be willing to meet me. We were really close and however hard I tried I could never end up hating him. And I know he didn't either.
And I saw him then through the window, rushing through the rain toward the coffee house. My body stiffened and I nearly had a panic attack. I did not think this through. This was a grave mistake. What will I say to him? Should I hug him or just a handshake? Should I pay for myself or let him? Should I hide under the table?
And then he entered and my time ran out. It was a weird feeling, seeing him. He came in and tried to dry himself a little. The little drops of water beads in the hair, his perfect hair that I used to be so obsessed with. I looked at the six feet tall body, lean as ever, but slightly buffed up than the last time I saw him. His face, pale and beautiful, gave way to a thousand memories in just one second. I could feel my heartbeat quicken. His eyes, the most amazing blue eyes I ever encountered, scanned weekly the small room until he spotted me. And then he smiled and my heart stopped. I remembered how happy that smile made me every day when we were together. How that crooked smile brightened up my day so easily, how I could do anything for that smile back in the day. And as he walked towards me, I froze.
"Liz", he said as he stood in front of me, his hands crossed over his stomach and an utterly amused look on his face.
Everybody in the world called me Lizzie, an obvious short for Elizabeth. But Patrick always skipped the IE saying that he was just too lazy to pronounce two extra letters. Liz was his exclusive nickname for me and it was the strangest feeling of contentment to hear it from his voice. His voice, another great quality that made me go gaga. Was there any part of him I did not like? Why did I ever let him go? Oh yeah, I wasn't good enough.
It only took half a second for that amusement to turn into shock as I stood up. I had been focusing all my energy in the past seven months to the gym. I was now in a perfect shape. A 28inch waste and god gifted ample breasts. I was at 32 when we were dating. I was expecting this reaction. I was dressed for this, wearing my body hugging deep neck blue dress, showing off my newly acquired perfect figure. He always like blue on me.
"What the hell! Liz you're gorgeous! When did this happen? Have you been living at the gym?" he spoke with genuine excitement.
I caught my breath and managed to get out the words, "More or less." I smiled trying hard not to blush. But I probably gave it away.
"Wow. I haven't seen you blush in so long. Still makes me so happy. This is unbelievable. Come here." he said and took me into a tight hug. I reciprocated with the same level of enthusiasm. A feeling of contentment washed over me. Something I hadn't felt for a very long time.
It took us a few minutes to settle down. It was a little awkward at first, but at the same time comfortable and familiar. We started talking about our families and how everyone is doing. The warmth of the room and his presence were finally starting to wash over me when he asked "And hey, how is Dylan doing?"
I froze. I suddenly came down from the weird high I had got. For a few moments I had forgotten all about my worries. He easily understood the look on my face as I was desperately attempting to stay normal. "We broke up", I muttered.
