I remain still in my place, not really knowing what to do. Where to run. I didn't see this coming, I wasn't expecting this at all and I'm wondering if this is some kind of sick joke. Where is the camera? To where do I look? But, as the minutes go by, there's no camera in sight. People pass me by, I can feel them, but I can't seem to see them and I'm growing more and more nervous by the second.
Why? Why now?
This was supposed to be a good day. A happy day. What happened?
"Hey. Is everything ok?" Peter stands in front of me, a tray full with four cups of coffee in his hands and a worried look on his blue eyes. Do I look that bad?
I don't find my voice, so I nod. I'm not really sure if I'm ok, but I don't want him to worry.
"You're sure? You're kind of pale.." He trails off, unsure to leave me alone. I want to tell him that I'm not that fragile, but I still haven't found my voice, a good enough voice to answer him. My strengths are dancing on a thin line with my weakest points and I want to scream, to yell, to jump, to run, to do something, just because I never could before. I want to be in control, I want to make my own decisions. People need to realize they shouldn't control others just because they, apparently, can. It's wrong and it's not their business, it's not their lives. They need to stay out. He needs to stay out.
For the moment, my own decisions are just to stand in the middle of the coffee shop and look at him. Maybe I'm not as strong as I wish I could be. As I wish I was. It's a strange feeling, to be honest, to know that you're not what you think you are.
Peter looks at me one more time, before getting back to work, with a worried look still on his eyes. I hate to worry him, especially when he's working and can't be there for me as I wish he could now. I feel trapped. Literally. But I can't ask him to stop working and help me pick up my heart from the floor. I just can't. It can stay there for a little longer.
"Mia, there's a table for you in the back. I'll sit with you." Peter is back, no tray and no apron. What? What is he doing? He can't, he's working.
That immediately snaps me out of my frozen state.
"What? No, Pete, you can't, you're working." I tell him, stopping in my tracks when he tries to guide me to the back, my fingers around his wrist. He looks up at me.
"I asked if I could take a break, babe. I can't leave you alone like that, you look like you've seen a ghost or something." The look on his eyes softens for a bit and my brain doesn't miss the way he called me babe.
I kind of did see a ghost. A ghost from the past I thought I would never see again in my life. Guess not.
Peter's fingers wrap around my wrist and he pulls me to the back. What is Peter doing? What am I doing? What is he doing?
He shouldn't be here.
"Pete.." I try again, whispering. Maybe too loud, because he looks at me, catching me by surprise. I quickly look away, my heart almost beating out of my chest.
But Peter doesn't stop until I'm sitting on a chair, at the back of the coffee shop, my back to the wall. Peter sits in front of me and I know what he is going to say even before he opens his mouth.
"Mia, what's wrong?" He asks. I don't like the way he's pressuring me to tell him, but he's not demanding me to spill either. I like that he's giving me the option, even when he wants to know what's wrong with me.
What's wrong with me? I ask myself. I would love to say nothing, that everything's ok, but I know that it wouldn't be true. The thing is.. right now, the problem isn't me. It's that guy, that once wonderful and caring guy, sitting by the window a couple of tables in front of me, with short blond hair and brown eyes. He's the problem. Him being here is what's making me feel nervous and it's making me want to run out of here. If I knew Peter wouldn't catch me, I would run. So far away....
