The Way It Was Before

thirty-seven

I tried not to think much of it. I tried not to make a big deal. Even though the optimistic side of my brain was making up romantic situations and conversations that might happen, I still tried to keep my hopes in check. Therefore, I decided to go for casual wear—a flannel shirt and faded jeans. My safe choices. Most of the clothes that I owned looked babyish or too grown-up—and by "grown-up," I mean the kind of outfit my old-fashioned mom would wear.

However, my overexcited sister thought that my clothes were too dull and tomboyish, so she made me wear her pale pink lace sundress and gave me a simple makeover.

I told her, "Clover, isn't this a little too proper? I mean, we'll just talk—"

She raised her hand to stop me. "I know you guys have hung out many times before, but this time? I think it's different, so you should dress up prettily. Trust me."

Her words fueled my optimism and made me tense.

While I sat on the bench facing the fountain two hours later, my head was chock-full of scenarios that didn't match up with reality at all. I imagined Michael wearing clothes that were not his style, and I tried to guess what he wanted to say to me. Maybe he wanted to talk more about his life. Maybe he wanted to show me his new work just like last time. Or maybe he would say those magical three words that I had longed to hear him say and longed to say myself. No matter how our talk would turn out, I was sure I would still enjoy it because he was there.

A tingling sensation ran down my body when I saw a moving figure in my peripheral vision, but the feeling died right away when it was only a passerby. This went on for several times: my heart rate spiking up in anticipation whenever I sensed someone coming and then falling dramatically. I checked my wristwatch; doubts were beginning to creep into my mind.

Two minutes left. Maybe I'm too early? But he said 4 PM, right? And he said today, didn't he? And not next Sunday? I checked my phone for any new messages. Zero. Did he forget about it? No, that can't be.

I began to cramp from sitting, so I stood up and sauntered around the area for a bit, still searching for any sign of him. All I saw were people riding bikes and walking their dogs. I sent him a message about my location and went back to the bench.

It was a few minutes past four, and yet he was nowhere to be found. My throat became dry, but I tried to comfort myself. Something must've come up, and he had to take care of it. He would just be a little late.

So I waited.

I waited.

I waited.

My calls were left unanswered. My patience was wearing thin. I felt tired, let down, worn out by expectancy. But I still waited.

Then finally, I received a message from him.

I'm sorry.

He never came.