Charlie looked down at her phone, aimlessly scrolling work emails with one hand, while she nervously rubbed her thumbnail with her index and middle finger with the other. Her dishwater blonde hair sat in loose waves and she momentarily put her phone down to toss it over one shoulder, and then the other. She bit her lower lip and pondered if this was really a good idea.
Charlie had met Dan online, in a chat room, two months almost exactly to the day of her 26th birthday. If she was being honest with herself, Charlie had been struggling since May of the previous year. She had started writing as an outlet for her pain -- publishing her stories in what felt like a safe space: an erotic website. She had discovered the chat room feature after about a month and used it on occasion when she needed a particular outlet. She never found anyone worth talking to for more than a few minutes. Until Dan.
She couldn't remember now what he had said to her at first, but after a witty retort to it, he had replied, "I'm Dan, 25." Pause. "Shit -- no, 35. I'm 35. I live in Boston."
She had laughed aloud. "Charlie, 26," she had replied. "I ALSO live in Boston." What were the odds?
They talked for almost 12 hours that day and the next morning, as she rushed out the door, wet hair in a loose, messy side braid, spilling her smoothie in the elevator, running 10 minutes late to get to school, he text her good morning. They talked every day -- for hours. Then, twelve days after that first conversation, the world shut down. Whether it was the loneliness, boredom, or freedom of time tied to a global pandemic that kept people at home for almost two years by the time it was over, or just a deep connection that neither could explain, Charlie would never know. But here they were -- ten years later -- still friends.
Still, as she thought back to those early years of day long text conversations and phone calls, sitting in the pastry shop she had loved as a young 20 something living in the city, she realized how far she from the girl he had fallen for. She was older now, married, with kids of her own. Dan knew all of this of course. But she couldn't help but wonder if he still thought of her as the same naïve 26 year old she had been when they first met. Back then, he was the same age as she was now. She smiled at how he seemed to know so much then -- be so put together -- so adult, and yet here she was -- feeling like she knew nothing. Specifically in this moment, why she had finally agreed to meet him for a cup of coffee.
"You're serious?" he had asked her last week.
"I think of you first as a friend," she had text back. "Friends have coffee, right?" Her hands had shook as she typed it, using his own words against him as she loved to do. She watched the dots go up and down on the screen, then his one word answer back.
"Okay."
She took a deep breath. She took a sip from her iced coffee and put it down on the table. She had gotten here early, ordered without him -- removing the need for him to buy her coffee. She looked down at her phone. It was 2 PM on the dot. She looked up.
In ten years, seven of which they had lived in the same city, never more than twenty minutes apart, they had never met, and the photos they sent each other for years had stopped years ago - and yet, she would have recognized him anywhere. He certainly looked older now. However, like most men, age made him more distinguished. His hair was more salt and pepper -- but he still held the same serious but kind look on his face, still wore those awkward silver rimmed glasses, still hid the most beautiful, soulful, deep brown eyes behind them. She smiled at him as he caught her eye, scanning the room. He smiled back. He too, would have recognized her anywhere. She was older, maybe 10 to 15 pounds heavier, sure, but she looked almost exactly the same, and just as beautiful. She looked grown up in a navy blue blazer and jeans, a loose silk camisole underneath. She was a stylish but subtle dresser, always. He approached her slowly and she stood up.
"Hi Daniel," she said, before he could even open his mouth.
"Hi Charlotte," he replied. She smiled. He had always insisted on calling her Charlotte. "It's pretty," he had told her when they first met. "I'm going to call you Charlotte."
For a moment, Charlie contemplated what the appropriate greeting was. She finally reached out to hug him -- something she had wished for so many times over the last ten years. His arms wrapped around her and it felt electric. He took a minute to linger, subtly smelling her hair as he pulled back.
"I grabbed a coffee -- got here early. Do you want something?" she asked.
He nodded. "You didn't even let me buy you a cup of coffee," he smiled. "You're still a brat." She laughed. "I'll be back in a second."
She tried not to look at him as he waited for his coffee at the counter. He came back after a few seconds and sat down across from her. He slid a red velvet cupcake across the table. "It's not breakfast," he said. "But I do remember you liked these way back when." Breakfast cupcakes had been her Sunday luxury as a skinny twenty something running 50 miles a week.
She laughed. "After two kids, I don't eat as many cupcakes as I used to." Charlie pat her belly. "I'm not the skinny little thing you met ten years ago."
"First of all, we just met two seconds ago." Charlie rolled her eyes. He had always been so insistent that despite years of talking every day -- they had never actually met. She hated it. There were few people in her life who knew her like he did at this point. "Second of all -- you look the same to me. You're gorgeous."
"If I tell you I still find you attractive will you call me crazy?"
Dan nodded. "Yep." He took a sip of his coffee and put it on the table. "I never thought this would happen." He looked straight at her. "I didn't think you'd show up."
