Coffee V
a modern love story — conclusion
This is the fifth and final instalment in a series of fiction — though there may be more in store for these two down the road. This part can be read on its own if you insist but benefits from the foundation of the previous parts — you can find them here: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4. Thanks for reading — look out for the next story.
She looked at him sleeping beside her, taking care not to move and wake him. She wanted to savour this moment. Watching his chest rise and fall, he seemed like a magical creature. She felt compelled to reach out and touch him. He looked so peaceful. A single dark lock of hair fell across his forehead — his lips slightly parted. She wanted to kiss him.
She smiled.
Her heart felt so full she thought it might burst. Overwhelmed with feeling, tears began to slide in languid silence across her flushed cheek onto her pillow.
She looked around her.
It was a beautiful room — everything white and grey. Posh. Muted gold accents punctuated the space: the silk throw cushion on the white chaise, the pillows they lay their heads on, and one of two sheets draped loosely over them — the contours of their bodies clearly visible through the thin fabric. A bouquet of freshly cut yellow tulips sat on the desk. Late afternoon sun filtered gently through sheer curtains and floor to ceiling windows.
Clothing littered the floor between the door and the bed.
She couldn’t remember how they’d gotten there no matter how hard she tried. She’d driven and knew the route she must have taken to spirit them to this place but it was as if they’d been transported from the moment of the kiss hours earlier straight to the bed of this hotel. From the moment he’d kissed her, her mind had been filled with white noise and the time in between here and there was a blur.
She smiled at the memory of how she used to dream of coming to this place with him — and now here they were. She would have liked to stay a while and take it all in. Enjoy the amenities. Have dinner. Come back together. More.
She sighed.
She felt like she’d come full circle — like she’d picked up a loose end and tucked it neatly where it belonged. No matter what happened — or what didn’t — she had to acknowledge this fact and be satisfied. She would try, at least.
She looked at him again. Her heart fluttered.
She swelled at the realization that he remembered it all — the us that they had been. How he still wanted her — still loved her — how he’d said the words many times over in the preceding hours.
She couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.
She wanted more but knew it wasn’t hers for the taking and she wasn’t going to let herself get caught up in wishing for it. She would have to be satisfied with this small piece, be thankful — and move on.
She rested her hand on his. He opened his eyes and smiled, lifting his arm as an invitation for her to come closer. She smiled and shimmied over, placing her head on his chest. She lay against him — her arm draped across his body. His arms closed tightly around her.
They didn’t speak.
He gave her a gentle squeeze as she let a tear fall onto his chest, moving a hand to softly caress her hair. He kissed the top of her head.
She wanted to stay — even though she knew she should rip the bandaid off and leave. His pull on her was strong. Like two celestial objects caught in each others wake — she wanted to stay forever and burn.
Keeping him wasn’t a possibility and despite knowing that, she felt unburdened. She felt at peace with the world for the first time in a long while. All the hurt, all the mistakes of the past — the regret — fell away. She had found the clarity that she had sought for so long. He had confirmed her biggest question — he remembered. It may be that there would forever be a hole in her heart that only he could fill but she felt like things were somehow going to be okay — that she would be okay.
She was ready to strike out on her own.
She sighed deeply.
She looked at her hand on his chest. The thought of never seeing him again made her heart feel heavy. She wondered if they would stay friends — it was something she didn’t feel she could ask for.
His thumb traced circles lightly on her upper arm. She closed her eyes and took in his scent, feeling the heat of his skin on her cheek — memorizing how his chest felt against hers. It’s okay, she thought, it’s better this way — convincing herself it would hurt more to only have part of him. She knew she would always want more.
She lifted her head to look into his eyes and he pulled her in for a kiss. She smiled and wiped a tear away before slipping out of the bed to collect her clothes from the floor.
He watched her dress is silence — a pensive look on his face.
When she was ready she walked over to the bed and sat down beside him. She lifted her hand to trace the side of his face, something she’d done a thousand times before, smiling as she brushed the hair from his forehead. He pulled her in for one last kiss. They parted and her emotions got the best of her — “I love you,” she whispered breathily, adding a tearful, “bye”.
His eyes were glassy. He said nothing, pulling her in to hug her tight — his body speaking the words he couldn’t say — his face lost in her hair, breathing her in. She felt him swallow hard.
After a long time he released her and she stood up, picked up her bag and walked to the door. She turned to find him staring down, lost in thought. He took a deep breath and looked up. Lightening. In that moment she wanted to run to him. Instead, she smiled one last time before stepping out the door and closing it behind her — wiping the tears from her cheeks as she went.
This was not her choice to make.
She felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the space as she walked down the hallway alone. Part of her wished he would run after her. Instead, the elevator came and she stepped in by herself. She swallowed hard as the doors closed.
Outside, she struggled to put her earbuds in with one hand while the other held her coat shut tight at her neck. The wind blew wildly around her, drying her salt-stained face. She walked slowly down the cobblestone street, thumbing through the playlist on her phone. She shook her head and smiled through her tears at how much she already missed him. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she settled on Regina Spektor’s, How, and popped the phone in her pocket.
Oh baby
How can I begin again
How can I try to love someone new
Someone who isn’t you
Fuck that, she thought while retrieving the phone and advancing to Love Runs Out by OneRepublic. She wanted a beat:
I’ll be your light, your match, your burning sun,
I’ll be the bright, and black, that’s making you run.
And I feel alright, and we’ll feel alright,
’Cause we’ll work it out, yeah we’ll work it out
Looking at the evergreen displays and twinkling holiday lights already up everywhere in the city, her pace matching the beat, she thought about how the snow would come soon and tried to distract herself from the brick sitting on her heart. The bitter wind nipped at her cheeks, relentless, as she worked to convince herself all would be well — half crying, half laughing out loud at where life had led her. Hands freezing, she burrowed them deep into her scarf.
Arriving at her car, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket — pausing, she reached for it.
Looking down, her mouth curled into a smile as she read the one-word text:
“coffee”
