The Last Semester
Once again, here I sat in what might as well be any all-night Coney Island in the Midwest. I was planted in our booth, the one that sits directly across from the door. I slowly stirred the coffee in front of me with my spoon, letting the caramel colored liquid roll over, into, and out of its silver compatriot. Every time I heard the door I would glance up to see who had just walked in. I was trying to be nonchalant, only ever so slightly looking over trying very hard not to be overly direct or look too eager. I hadn’t seen him in months. We had talked briefly but most of our recent correspondence had been through letters. An ancient way of communication indeed, but its mystery and romantic nuance fit the nature of our friendship. Friendship. Yes, that is firmly what it is. Was that what it would stay? I was soon to find out, as I had made my resolve that this would be a make it or break it conversation. He had spent the summer interning for Boeing in Seattle but classes were about to start; so he was home again for his last semester of college.
Our story was the typical “Boy meets girl when they are both involved with someone else. They become friends and then slowly become more. There are few awkward romantic encounters and then nothing comes of it.” He had been writing letters off and on for some time before this past summer’s invitation to have them reciprocated had been accepted. They were veiled in the guise of a friendly hello but the undercurrent was much more serious and the content often cut to matters of the heart. I had told myself not to read too much into this, and that perhaps I was filtering in content that didn’t exists in these documents. However, after reviewing them I decided how I was going to react. I remembered when were in high school and he had tricked me into going on our first one on one date together. He assured me that other people in our group of friends were going to meet us at the movies. We then went to the drive in to see the X-Files. At the time, I honestly thought our friends had blown us off, not seeing that the scenario had been planned far in advance as a date. This was the first of many times that would happen. Last year, he had begged me to go up north to spend a weekend in the winter at his family’s cabin. “There’s a hot tub and we can just chill and party without having to worry about anything. You can bring Mindy, too. It will be a lot of fun.” I was considering it, and had asked my girlfriend to come along, but it all just fell through at the last minute. Then there was the spring date incident. We were housesitting for his brother and spent a tangled, drunken night in each other’s arms. It didn’t extend any further than heavy petting but I would be lying if I didn’t acknowledge it as the catalyst of my examining the data that had been collected over the years. Despite this, I was still resistant to tackle the elephant in the room - all of those feelings that had never been addressed. I hear the door “Bing”. Not him.
I go back to staring into my coffee and let the flood of memories continue to wash over me as I wait. I had made my resolve to finally tell him how I felt and to give it an honest shot. My text had read as follows:
“Welcome back. I have something important to talk to you about. Can we meet up ASAP?”
He was willing to do it right away. Suddenly, I heard another “Bing”. His emerald eyes shone beneath a short, yet slightly shaggy crop of sandy blonde hair that would darken by the end of the year. He can’t but help to smile broadly as spots me sitting where I always do; where we always do.
“Hey lady. What’s up?” he states in a lackadaisical fashion, smoothing his newsprint placemat in front of him before he looks back up to meet my gaze.
“The usual.” I say, still stirring my coffee. My attempts to quell my nervousness aren’t really working. My hands are shaking even through the tasks I have given them to hide it. He clears his throat.
“Well, before you start with the big news;” he states; “Let me go first. I met someone.”
Our story was the typical “Boy meets girl when they are both involved with someone else. They become friends and then slowly become more. There are few awkward romantic encounters and then nothing comes of it.” He had been writing letters off and on for some time before this past summer’s invitation to have them reciprocated had been accepted. They were veiled in the guise of a friendly hello but the undercurrent was much more serious and the content often cut to matters of the heart. I had told myself not to read too much into this, and that perhaps I was filtering in content that didn’t exists in these documents. However, after reviewing them I decided how I was going to react. I remembered when were in high school and he had tricked me into going on our first one on one date together. He assured me that other people in our group of friends were going to meet us at the movies. We then went to the drive in to see the X-Files. At the time, I honestly thought our friends had blown us off, not seeing that the scenario had been planned far in advance as a date. This was the first of many times that would happen. Last year, he had begged me to go up north to spend a weekend in the winter at his family’s cabin. “There’s a hot tub and we can just chill and party without having to worry about anything. You can bring Mindy, too. It will be a lot of fun.” I was considering it, and had asked my girlfriend to come along, but it all just fell through at the last minute. Then there was the spring date incident. We were housesitting for his brother and spent a tangled, drunken night in each other’s arms. It didn’t extend any further than heavy petting but I would be lying if I didn’t acknowledge it as the catalyst of my examining the data that had been collected over the years. Despite this, I was still resistant to tackle the elephant in the room - all of those feelings that had never been addressed. I hear the door “Bing”. Not him.
I go back to staring into my coffee and let the flood of memories continue to wash over me as I wait. I had made my resolve to finally tell him how I felt and to give it an honest shot. My text had read as follows:
“Welcome back. I have something important to talk to you about. Can we meet up ASAP?”
He was willing to do it right away. Suddenly, I heard another “Bing”. His emerald eyes shone beneath a short, yet slightly shaggy crop of sandy blonde hair that would darken by the end of the year. He can’t but help to smile broadly as spots me sitting where I always do; where we always do.
“Hey lady. What’s up?” he states in a lackadaisical fashion, smoothing his newsprint placemat in front of him before he looks back up to meet my gaze.
“The usual.” I say, still stirring my coffee. My attempts to quell my nervousness aren’t really working. My hands are shaking even through the tasks I have given them to hide it. He clears his throat.
“Well, before you start with the big news;” he states; “Let me go first. I met someone.”