Short Story: Goodbye Coffeeshop

I have not been to this coffee shop in years. Since I moved back, this dull but persistent need to come here has been taking over my subconscious, or is the ghost of her taunting me to go back to it? So because of this on this day, the one day I have off of work, I decide to go. 

On the drive there, I allow myself to think of her, of the years we had together. For the time being, I am only reliving the good parts. During those years, we would answer each other's becks and calls daily. There was nothing one of us wanted to do that the other did not, until, well there was. But we are not at that part yet. I am still at the point where we had a beautiful friendship that grew into something more, something that neither of us expected. The looks we would give each other, the subtle flirting, the feeling of you in my car on our drives. 

Oh, shit, I almost missed the turn into the parking lot getting lost in that previous memory. In my defense, we did do a lot in that car... As I get out of my car and walk to the entrance, I am reminded of the first time we came here; you were the person to introduce me to this place. It was a blustery day, and we sprinted from the car because it was pouring rain. Your hair was in braids. 

However, in the present day, it is sunny, and I am alone. As I go to open the door, I see there is a sign, 'CLOSING DAY.' How could it be possible that today of all days, I decided to come here, it turns out to be the last day they are open? The universe has a cunning sense of humor.

As I order my 'go-to' drink, I use this encounter with the barista to ask why they were closing. The barista's answer was "for a number of reasons." I laugh because, like I do not have a reason for why you stopped talking to me, I do not have a reason for why our coffee shop is closing. Do you know how I said the universe has a cunning sense of humor? Well, now the universe is just a cunt. 

I take my coffee and try not to spill it as I am still chuckling silently like a madwoman and sit at a table where we never sat. I need to sit in a place where I can look out at the entire shop and imagine being an onlooker as the scenes of us in here start projecting in my mind. There is the four-person table near the beam with all the posters that we sat at our first time here and talked until it was dark. Or the time you wore your hair down and that red flannel shirt, I took a picture of you that time. The lighting was perfect at that two-person table near the window, and you looked stunning that day. Then there is the four-person table on this platform that we sat when we swore we were going to work on homework, which we did but for only an hour. 

And then, just when I feel blissful in the happy memories, they start metamorphosing into the heavy, painful moments that I have been dreading bringing up again. The moment I told you I was moving far away, and you cried because it was an unexpected cruel surprise. Then there is the moment I told you I loved you; in fact, this would be the first time I worked up the courage to do this. You held my hand, told me you loved me too, but would not leave him and the comforts that come from being in a heterosexual relationship. I took this as a challenge, that if I loved you enough, you would leave him to be with me. 

I would put up a good fight for a while. Then when I moved, time passed. You came to visit. Time passed, and I changed.  After a year away, I realized that I deserved more than what love I was receiving from this relationship. I still loved you but differently, a way where I could be your friend again and not hate you for not choosing me. We saw each other again after this realization. I could tell you felt the change in our dynamic. Then after this meeting, you never attempted to see me again while I was visiting. I returned to my new home, and the communication between us petered into silence. 

I have not heard from you in over two years. Not when you came to visit the same place I was living or when I moved back. 

Sitting in this chair, at this table we never sat at, in the coffee shop that is ours, I realize the reason I came here was to say goodbye to you. I never got the chance to. Since I am saying goodbye, there are some things I need to say. It was painful for me to get over the loss of our relationship, to think how we would be so intimate, so close, have so much love for each other, and that you could and were willing to let that go. I cried when I saw that you came to the new place I was living and did not tell me. I hope never to feel that way again when I had to stomach the fact that even if things did not end terribly, that you, someone I loved, a dear old friend, could still do something extremely hurtful as that. I blocked you after that, and to this day, I do not keep up with your life.

I want you to know that I get that you were angry with me and might still be. You feel this way because the moment you decided to love me the way I deserved, I had already let that future of us together go. I am just sad that you never expressed your feelings and that we do not talk. The only silver lining is that I said what I wanted to tell you, and I do not regret any of it. To this day, I love you very much but in a different way. I do sometimes wonder if you feel that same way as me or where you stand in the grief process. 

As I finish my coffee and the projection of the memory of us, I receive a text that puts a smile on my face. It is a message from the woman I love now. She is the first woman to have the courage to tell me she loves me too and act on it. I go on to push in my chair, put the mug I used in the bus bin, and wave goodbye to you as I leave for the final time. This is what I needed. I am so happy I finally got to say goodbye to you. How bittersweet our ending is my first love. 

Image by Annie Spratt on Unsplash