Until We Meet Again

30. where she left me

I almost feel like I collapse once I spot her sitting in that same seat from several months ago.

She looks comfortable in her spot, and has that same straight hairstyle she had at our first encounter. I wonder if she realizes it's the same one. She's wearing a long fuzzy green sweater and I notice that the silver locket isn't around her neck. Her fingers are adorned with shiny rings, and I can tell she has a new piercing in her ears; something she's been wanting to get for a while. Her phone is set face down on the table, and it's a newer model.

Everything about her has changed yet hasn't changed at all. Her perfection reflects off of her from miles away, and anyone caught in her sight must be affected by the gaze of her deep brown eyes. Always with that powerful influence.

As I get closer, I notice that her gentle smile toward me is genuine. It's real and truthful, not annoyed and condescending like it was at our last encounter. Her stance is calm, not stiff and overwhelming like it was during our fight.

I finally reach her across the venue, and she tells me, "hi" as I sit down.

I cross my arms in front of my body, and I respond, "hello."

She probably expects me to start exploding with joy and gratitude toward being given the opportunity to be caught in her presence. Maybe that means she loves me as much I love her.

As if such a thing could be possible.

"How's school?"

"Good."

"How's your family? Did you visit them in December?"

"Yes. They're good."

"And-"

"You don't have to bother making small talk," I tell her. "We're far beyond the need for that."

She sighs deeply, and then says, "fine. I want this to be a space where we can both say whatever it is that we need to say to each other."

This sounds like something a licensed therapist would say.

"Ok, so, go on. Tell me what it is that you want me to tell me."

I let her have the moment to speak, but she stays silent. She just looks at me like I did something wrong.

And I realize what this is. She doesn't have anything she wants to say to me. To her, this is all my fault for being so dramatic.

"Wow! You're being so generous by giving me the space to say whatever I want to say to you. You always have to act like you're so above everything, right?"

She scoffs, telling me, "don't be that way. I just want to make sure everything is out in the open."

I almost feel like she's being real about that, but I can't be too certain. One can never be too certain about anything when it comes to someone like Delilah.

I once would have found that sense of mystery to be cute, but it's not comforting now. I just wish things could go back to the way they used to be. We were so happy a few months ago when none of this mattered, and nothing seemed like it could get in our way. I miss that and I miss her.

I decide to keep things neutral for now, and I say to her, "I don't think I have anything to tell you that would help either of us."

"My intentions weren't to hurt you," she declares.

A small part of me will always wonder if that's true though, because it certainly didn't feel that way in the moment. She seemed focused on destroying these thoughts of mine and ending these hopes I had for us. Our future was gone when she broke up with me.

"I think that we should be friends."

"Do you think that's best?" I ask her.

My soul feels so heavy. This is like the end of another chapter for me. I always used to say before I saw Delilah a few months ago that I would be thankful to just at least be friends with her if I were to ever see her again, so it's not like this is wrong. But, it doesn't feel exactly right.

How can I just place aside our romantic past for a friendship? How will I ever forget the way her soft lips felt on mine? How her fingers fit perfectly with my own? How she always loved over-applying that tropical scented perfume on to leave my dorm smelling like her? How she always made me feel at ease in awkward situations? How she always wrapped her arms around my hips and held me tightly with her touch?

How?

Because I don't think we can be just friends, but it also pains me that we'll never talk to each other again if I say no.

"I don't know," she responds honestly.

She never knows anything. That's another thing about her. She's not one for confessions and certainties. Maybe she likes always saying "I don't know" all the time to everything I ask.

I wonder if it's something else that's holding her back from wanting to be more than friends. Or someone.

"Are you dating anyone?" I ask her suddenly.

Maybe she moved on so quickly that I couldn't see that coming at first, but it's worth it to just ask. She may be on a new path in her new life, and this conversation is all just to provide some sense of closure for me. And discussing her love life may not be the best way for me to get that kind closure she thinks I deserve, but I just want to know.

Besides, friends are supposed to know about these kinds of things, right?

She's silent for a second, and instead asks me, "do you think that it's best that we stay friends?"

No.

"Yes, that's what I want."

She accepts it so easily, and then she tells me it's someone she met during her time in LA.

I had almost wondered if it was Andrea, that girl from our hometown that had commented on one of her Instagram posts. That would have been too convenient though, of course it has to be someone from her sacred location.

"What's their name?"

"Cristina. She's lived in LA her entire life."

I wonder what Cristina looks like. Is she prettier than me? Is she smarter? Is she nicer? Maybe she's the best simply because she's an LA native. Delilah has always had an obsession with that place.

I could say I don't have a problem about this, but I do. It isn't me she's talking about. It isn't me that she's dating. It isn't me that she loves. They've only been dating for less a month but she seems like she's fallen for her the same way that I fell for her so easily.

I'm just staring at her, and she's going on and on about her new profound lover. The one who knows her so well and never glances at the phone to even check the time. Cristina would never commit the same mistakes that I did. She would never dare bring up the questions I had.

That might be why she likes her so much, she just isn't me. She doesn't come with memories of that pesky past that Delilah has always been so desperate to move on from. She's a fresh start.

I think she's what Delilah needs.

So, good for her.

It just sucks for me.

But if she ever has doubts about the greatest being she knows, I'll be there for her. Like an absolute fool. I'll be the one who waits around. I'll never be able to move on, because how could I?

If I wasn't so afraid, things could have been different. Maybe we'd still be dating. Maybe I wouldn't have brought up so much drama for us. No matter how much I can hate her in the moment, I'll still always love her. No amount of alcohol or time will convince me otherwise.

I'm just full of contradictions, never wanting to fully move on or fight for a relationship. I'm just right where she left me.

Chapter 30 already? Woah. Thanks for reading!