Until We Meet Again

10. come back home

I'll admit that I may have royally screwed things up. I swore that my first words would have been something pathetic like, "Come back home. . . Come back to me!"

But they weren't. Nope, I just had to be brutally honest. But I had a right to, didn't I?

She's the one who left. She may have had a good reason though, and I'm the one being terrible. . . I don't have any evidence to indicate either option though.

I'm just at fault for immediately jumping to the conclusion that she's a bad person. I'm the one who always swore that if I ever saw her again I would be kind, but none of that came out in the short encounter.

It came and went in a second, just like my warming thoughts about her. It didn't mean anything in that moment.

The what-ifs didn't matter. All the years pining and wishing for a second chance were forgotten. The idea of a perfect new shot at our friendship turned into dust.

I don't even know what to do with myself. That was all I was ever waiting for years ago, and it once consumed me in such a devastating way that left me unable to breathe. I felt like I was frozen when I saw her.

She left me behind, and she only made contact with me because she was unable to run faster than I could. She didn't choose to see me, she was simply forced to. She'll never come back, she doesn't want or need to.

I once moved on, and I have now been brought back to the idea of her. But, what if the idea isn't even that good?

The idea I had wouldn't have ran from me yesterday. She would have stayed to talk to me. She would have explained where she's been. She would have. . . Said she missed me.

But, that's all on me. The idea I created of her is a burden placed solely on me, and the way I react to reality is my own fault. We can all create unattainable standards for people we care about, but we all have to keep in mind that they don't owe us anything. If you get frustrated about that, then you're a bad person.

So, what does that say about me? If I'm wishing that she had just stayed with me to talk instead of carelessly leaving, I might be the same as everybody else then.

I finish sending off Nina my 5th text about the incident after I finally let her in, and I'm sure she's feel pressured based on the way I receive her insanely fast text messages in response. She cares a lot about this, and she seems furious both at me and her for being unable to communicate with each other.

Maybe I'm tired of always being the one to try. Or maybe my efforts just haven't been good enough. I could be overestimating my role in the past. Or underestimating myself.

I'm truly pathetic.

Something in my head is telling me to go back to the diner. One more time. Just to see if she'll be there. If she decided she wanted to talk to me in the end.

I should tell that voice to shut up.

Nina, like a mind reader, then suggests, "why don't you go to the diner? It was around this time that you went yesterday, right? What if she's there?"

So many questions, I can tell she cares. I ask her if she thinks it's worth it to open up that wound again, and I see her typing come up in the form of three moving bubbles that disappear after a second. Then they reappear, and I watch as the text comes in with a simple "yes."

Should I be taking advice from someone I haven't known for a long time? For this, I think I will. I just made a whole point about moving on, but I'm going to go back by heading to the diner.

And, again, it's my own choice. My own burden. My own fault. My own responsibility.

And, that's I how end up at the retro diner once again. I go in, searching over the booths and finding faces that aren't hers. I'm about to give up so easily, and then I see her.