Bit o' This, Bit o' That

Long Time, No See

   The boy waits at the diner. Staring out the window at the park across the street, he begins to wonder why he came. He didn’t know this girl. Well, at least, not anymore he didn’t.

   Liza Eccleston called him this morning, out of the blue. They hadn’t seen each other in 15 years.

   And she asked him for a favour, she needed something from him. It was a small blue brooch that she had given him long ago. She needed it back, and now.

   He didn’t even think he had the thing anymore, but a little searching proved otherwise.

   She had specified a diner on the other side of town, and it took him an hour to reach it. When he did, he realized she wasn’t there yet. So he sat down and ordered a coffee.

   And he waited.

   And he waited.

   And finally, 45 minutes late, Liza walked through the door.

   He wouldn’t have recognized her if she didn’t sit down across from him. She had dyed her hair brown. And her green eyes, the ones he could’ve stared into for hours when they were younger, were hidden behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses.

   The corner of her lips twitched up into a smile, and he could’ve sworn that they were teenagers again, sitting by the pond behind his house and watching the birds sing. He imagined those lips against his, how soft they had been. But then she spoke and he was pulled out of his reverie.

   “Thank you for coming.”

   “Oh, it was nothing. It’s not like you made me drive an hour across town then wait 45 minutes.”

   Woah. The bitterness in his voice shocked even him. It didn’t seem to even faze her, though. She smiled politely before muttering a soft apology. Some bull about traffic or something. He wasn’t listening, now staring at the park again.

   “I’ve never been in this part of town before. It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

   “So, did you bring it?” she asked, ignoring him.

   “No, I came here without it just to smite you. Of course I brought it,” he said, the bitterness in his voice again.

   He took out the brooch from inside his coat pocket and slid it across the diner table. She caught it with one hand and looked at him as if he had just tossed around an urn with her mother’s ashes in them. The look was gone in an instant, replaced by gratitude.

   “Thank you. Again. You didn’t have to.”

   He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t, not now, not ever. She looked so different. So same, but different. Where had that girl gone? Liz? His Liz?

   “I’ve obviously done something to offend you, so I’ll be going now.”

   This made him turn to her. If nothing else, her voice sounded the same, and he wanted to keep hearing it.

   “Stay. Have lunch with me. Sorry.”

   In the spur of the moment he grabbed her hand, and he soon realized that he really shouldn’t have.

   Because her hand also felt the same. It felt the same against his, reminded him of the walks they used to take around their block, hand in hand, grinning like the fools they were.

   Reluctantly, she sat back down and also reluctantly, he let go of her hand.

   She laughed suddenly and it took him by surprise.

   “What is it?” he asked, smiling despite himself.

   “Do you remember that time you stepped on the dog poo? We were on one of our walks and…” she trailed off.

   She was thinking about them too, the thought pleased him.

   “Yeah. God, I was so mad that I kicked a streetlight and ended up breaking a toe.”

   She laughed louder, and he laughed along. They still sounded the same; their laughs.

   Due to some strange sudden urge, he leaned forward and took off her glasses. He placed them on the table. She didn’t seem to mind. There, now he could see those eyes once again. They had (thankfully) stayed the same, too. Except they were even more beautiful than he remembered.

   They quieted down and ordered some food.

   “What are you doing here, Liz? You don’t live in town. You show up after a decade and a half and ask for some brooch you gave me a generation ago. What-“

   He was cut off by the tears welling up in her eyes. He frowned. “Liz?”

  “I-I’m sorry. I just-“

   Here she stopped talking all together. Instead, she started wailing.

   “Hey, hey, quit crying, people are staring. What happened? Tell me. Come on, for old time’s sake?” he said, the panic in his voice evident. Thankfully, she stopped soon. He was grateful, seeing her like this made his heart ache, made him remember that long forgotten night so many years ago.

   “Sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to start c-crying again. M-my grandma, she passed away a week ago. I came t-to town for the funeral. The brooch was hers.”

   “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry. I know how close you guys are, I mean, were. She, uh, died so young.”

   Piercing green eyes looked up into his own. “Will you come? To the funeral? It’s in an hour.”

   “Of course. Do you even have to ask?”

   “I… didn’t know where we stood exactly. What with everything that happened… and the… the way I left things.”

   “It takes two to do what we did.”

   She frowned at his words. “You don’t have to be like that. So… so gracious. I was responsible for everything.”

   It was his turn to frown now. So she didn’t know about what happened after she left…

   “I know that look; you know something I don’t. What is it?”

   “Finish your food, Lizzy. We have a funeral to get to.”

   “Don’t change the subject, Mikey,” she replied, calling him by her nickname like he had just done.

   They smiled at each other.

   Grinning like the fools they were.