I read once that the word 'fear' has two meanings: 'Face Everything And Rise' and 'Forget Everything And Run'. As much as I wanted to be inspired by this insight, the sound of the all too familiar voice calling my name put me into the second state.
"Lucy!" I heard him once again and turned my head. No, not a mirage, he was actually here, after three years, standing beside me in the small bakery aside from the main street of our hometown. I had less than a second to notice that his face didn't change at all before my body decided to act on it's initial instincts. I turned around on my heels and ran out, the reason why I was at the bakery in the first place completely forgotten. Out of the door, across the street and into the park - my legs moved on their own and it wasn't until I felt a grip on my upper arm that I came to a halt and looked around.
It was him again. Of course it was him again, only he would run after me after such a greeting. Neither of us said a word, but I felt him pulling on my arm and followed him. A small piece of my mind registered that he led me back to the bake shop while the rest of my mind wandered down the memory lane.
Anthony was my high school sweetheart and despite having formed a couple in our teen years we managed to stay together for over five years. Me and him shared our first ever date, our first kiss, our first moment of intimacy... We had many first times together and were always known as 'that one' couple in the most sweet way imaginable. Until he decided to go to college.
It was a year after we both finished high school, during a time when we tried to find ourselves and to decide on what to do with our lives. I landed a promising job in a big firm - even though I started out as a junior secretary, there were possibilities to walk up the career ladder. Anthony decided to continue his education and applied to a dozen colleges, but even though he was one of the best at our school he got accepted by only one. Sadly, this one college was two states away from home.
We tried, we really tried. We studied his future schedule up and down, we looked up every single bus connection between the states on every possible weekend and holiday, we even opened a savings account just to be able to pay for the future visits, we promised each other countless times to stay faithful and to master it together. But in the end I was the one who chickened out. I didn't know why, I didn't know what came upon me, but two days before Anthony's departure I broke up with him. I just couldn't stand the thought of being separated from him like this, so... so I separated myself from him in a more radical way. Talk about women's logic.
Over three years of absolutely no contact whatsoever and he was dragging me back to the little bakery. Once inside, he made me sit down at a table right next to the door and took place across from me. An endlessly long minute passed where I could feel his eyes on me but couldn't bring myself to look at him for more than a second. Finally, he mercifully broke the silence:
"Well? How are you, I guess?" I heard his voice, tainted with the lightest accent which origins neither of us could explain. "Found a good replacement for me?"
The last part stung, more than I wanted to admit. I knew that he wasn't a petty asshole, that he actually was the nicest person I ever met. But I also knew that once pushed over the edge he could become quite spiteful. Not that I didn't deserve it right now - when we broke up, things were said, other things were broken. It wasn't nice, not at all. And still, I felt a wave of anger rolling over me, but before I could answer we got interrupted by the lady from behind the counter who was now standing beside our table, a big package in her hands.
"Your wedding cake, Miss!" she told me with a smile and placed the package on the table between me and Anthony. "My congratulations!" she added and walked away.
If the situation was awkward before, now it became painfully unpleasant. Yes, I met someone two years after Anthony left the town - in fact, my girlfriends forced me to go on dates until I met Jonathan. A year later he proposed to me and I said 'yes'. Tomorrow was our wedding. And today, of all days, I met my ex boyfriend.
But unpleasant or not, my anger was still there and so I got up to my feet while rummaging in my purse. I fished out a single thin piece of white cardboard and threw it on the table. On it, in golden letters, an invitation to the wedding of me and Jonathan was printed, along with the time and location.
"Yes, I did." I said in the coldest voice I could muster. "Come and see for yourself tomorrow." and with those words I grabbed the cake and left the bake shop, feeling at least some satisfaction from having the last word.
The rest of the day was a drag. The bachelorette party this evening was far less fun than expected and I knew that I only had to blame myself for that. My mood didn't improve in the slightest since the meeting that afternoon and as much as I tried to hide it my girlfriends caught on that something was wrong. The party died down before midnight and I didn't even bother with cleaning up the dishes before going to bed where I hoped to get at least some rest from my thoughts. Of course, I didn't have such luck and so I turned and tossed in bed, thinking about my life choices and about my immediate future. The results were less than just sad: my last thought before I finally drifted off to sleep was that I, in fact, did not love my fiancé.
***
The wedding ceremony was beautiful - at least that's what everyone told me. Thanks to the sleep deprivation from the previous night and my general inner state of mind I didn't get much of the whole affair, it all passed in some kind of blur. One thing I remembered was that after my hairdresser tried for one hour to make the perfect wedding hairdo for me I told her to just leave it open and curl it a tad. The small voice in my head telling me that this was exactly the way Anthony loved my hair back in the day surely didn't help at all. The other thing that stuck in my mind was me and Jonathan standing in front of the priest, telling each other our vows. I remembered a sudden urge to look to my right while he told just how much he loved me. I turned my head slightly and immediately turned back, for the sight of Anthony amidst the crowd was the last thing I expected. Why, why did he come?
