To Let Go

Twenty One

There are times where I have no regrets.

I mean, I don't regret going through Anorexia. It was a valuable learning experience. Or recovery. I'd never regret that. But this whole date thing? That's one thing I'm beginning to regret.

Sure, I dated other guys in the span of 10 years since Leo. A few of them only wanted me for my body. Another was plain uncivilized when conversing. Two others hadn't been so keen on the whole, 'treat a lady like a lady, not an object' concept.

I finish pulling the pale blue gloves off. I check my watch. 9:48 am. The girl sits there, clearly uncomfortable. The parents look a little excited.

"Well, Mr and Mrs Fischer, your daughter is progressing very well. If she continues to keep this up, she should be in the inpatient program at a treatment center by the end of the week." Mrs Fischer smiles. The girl plays it off cool, but she's actually terrified.

After a few more moments of small talk, I finally step out of there. I briskly walk to the cafe across the street, the place where we'd agree to meet. I catch a glimpse of Leo sitting at a table, at a laptop. I walk in and take a seat across from him. He finishes typing before closing the laptop.

"Hey."

"Hello." I nod back. When I sit down, I instantly look at the menu. I see a coconut milk chia latte with cinnamon. 120 calories. Even though I don't really count them anymore, I still look at the count. Force of habit, I guess.

"So how's the military?"

"It's okay. I mean, meteorology has some high points," I nod, and run my cold hands together. "How's San Diego Hospital?"

"Interesting. Other than getting screamed and yelled at all day by patients and getting cried on by concerned parents, it's good. I'm helping head up a clinical research for a new nutrition plan. And I get tons of interesting cases. Like this 17 year old boy who was bulimic but also had bipolar disorder. And a 9 year old anorexic girl who had autism. Now Layne, she's pretty interesting. She is a challenge since her heart was ready to give out, and-"

"Emma, I didn't want to talk about work. I came to talk to you." He cuts me off.

"I mean, I just don't know what to say. You cut off all ties from me for ten years."

"Not by choice. In my defense, the nurse told me you were dead."

"Confirmed, but just because you made conclusions on faulty reason, doesn't make it OK. I mean, did you even like me? I think you have some serious contemplation to do about us if we are ever going to be friends again. How can I trust someone who thinks I'm a waste? I've already had that thrice, and not about to again."

"I know," He sighs, and looks down. "And I'm sorry." The words ring in my ears.

"No, I should be. I stepped out of line." Guilt floods over me.

"And for the record, I still think about you. All the time. I still have feelings for you. They never went away."