One Night

The One Where He Thinks I'm Someone Else

Stirring the stone cold coffee, I stared blankly out the coffee shop window into the dark December afternoon, pondering the meaning of life. This, unfortunately, was my weekly ritual and I'd been coming to Bean every Friday night for the past six months trying to make sense of the world, and so far, I've come up empty handed.

It all started that fateful June evening when my boyfriend, Markus Levine, brought me here on what was supposedly a date. At the time, I hadn't questioned it; I had no reason to. Markus and I had been together for almost eight months and we were happy- in love. I even lost my virginity to him after the Sweetheart dance. Markus and I were inseparable and I remember him coming to pick me up to bring me here.

It was warm, ridiculously so, and I was wearing a flowing tea dress that was fitted on top and cascaded out from my waist. I had my long brown hair in a braid coming over one of my bare shoulders and a pair of coral flat sandals on my feet to compliment my ever darkening tan skin. Markus, of course, looked impeccable in his dark jeans and white button down shirt, his dirty blonde hair shining in the early summer sun and blue eyes almost the same shade as the Caribbean Sea.

We drove to Bean in Markus' car seeing as he never trusted me to drive us anywhere. He held the door open as we entered the coffee shop and paid after we ordered two caramel lattes. We sat right where I'm sat now at the front of the store, by the window to the left of the door. There were a few others here that night but neither of us noticed. I was too busy drinking in Markus' presence and he was too focused on reading a message on his cell phone.

Suddenly, Markus set his phone down and lifted his gaze to meet mine. I smiled at him while he frowned down at me.

"Peyton," he said my name gravely. I'd never once heard him speak in that tone and it instantly had me on edge. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair but still found the energy to give him a prompting nod. "Peyton, I'm breaking up with you."

Those words lingered in the silence between us. Now it was my turn to frown as his words began to reverberate around in my head. I would have laughed and brushed the incident off as a joke if it hadn't been for the serious look on Markus' face. I tried to blink away the tears forming in my eyes, but all I succeeded in doing was opening the floodgates of emotions that took over me.

"Why?" I choked out, holding a hand over my aching heart. "I don't understand. Markus, what's going on? I thought we were in love."

"I can't do this anymore," he sighed out heavily. He pushed his half-drunk latte to one side and set his hands on his thighs. "I thought I could do this. I thought I could love you, but I can't. I have to leave."

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him that his explanation didn't cut it, but it was too late. By the time the words had formed on my tongue, Markus was gone and the door had closed. I sat, watching him walk down the sidewalk and jumping into his car. He drove off, leaving me sat there, not knowing what in the world was going on.

Not to mention the fact that I was completely and utterly heartbroken.

While I would love to say that I got over mine and Markus' break up, it would be a lie. The first month after Markus walked out on me was torture. It hurt to do anything, even breathing pained, reminding me that I was still alive and that this was my reality now. My friends all noticed the change in my personality but none knew what to do, how to bring back that girl I used to be. I suppose that's why they all left me, too; they couldn't be around the ghost of a girl that was constantly depressed.

My family worried. Mom was hysterical by what she called my 'checked out' phase and was constantly trying to talk my father into sending me to see a therapist. Thankfully, Dad was against it from the start and it never happened. While I'm sure that I could benefit from speaking with a professional, I simply wasn't wired to be open with strangers. My brother, meanwhile, lived away at college, so he had no real idea what state I was in, but I knew if he were home, he'd agree with me. Jackson always did.