The Promise

thirteen

Year 2014 - Spring

Louis' POV

"Bye, El!" I cheerfully say, bending down to give her a kiss goodbye.

"You're awfully perky today," she concludes, gripping my tie and pulling me down for another kiss.

I kiss her again and shrug. "I'll see you tonight," I call before shutting the door behind me.

I let out a big breath upon walking into the hallway. I hope I didn't seem too suspicious. I feel somewhat guilty for my lunch plans with Lydia. I didn't tell Eleanor about them and I don't plan to; she doesn't know that much about Lydia and I want to keep it that way. As far as she knows, Lydia was my friend in high school, we dated for a little while, and then we both went to different colleges and that's that. She doesn't know all the details, nor does she need to. As far as she knows, I invited her to the wedding just because our mothers are close friends.

Not only am I nervous about what Eleanor would think of me spending time with Lydia, I'm a little apprehensive about the plans themselves. What are her and I going to talk about? Is it going to be normal? Uncomfortable, maybe?

With all these questions buzzing around in my brain, I start the engine of my car and dial Brad's number before starting the short drive to work.

"Hey, man," Brad answers. "What's happening?"

"Hey, I need to ask you about something," I disclose, turning out onto the road.

"Yes?" he questions on the line.

"What would you say to a friend who is engaged, that made lunch plans with his ex-girlfriend for today?"

I hear nothing on the other end for a few seconds before he starts, "Well, I would tell this friend," he emphasizes, "to be very careful, because I know that this ex-girlfriend isn't just an ex-girlfriend."

I sigh. "I'm so nervous, Brad," I confess. "We haven't properly talked in years, let alone sat down and had a meal together."

"You have nothing to worry about," he insists. "Just get some closure and you'll forget all about her."

I nod, even though he can't see me. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds right."

I say my goodbyes and thank him for the advice, turning into the parking lot of the towering office building.

I drive through the lot and into the parking garage for eighth level employees, taking the manager's spot near the glass doors leading into the lobby.

My hands shake slightly when I put the car into park, and I put my head into my hands after turning off the ignition. I shouldn't be this nervous. I haven't been this anxious in years.

I take a deep breath, hoping to calm my nerves as I reach under the passenger's seat, running my hands along the underside of the seat until I find what I'm looking for.

I carefully unwrap the tape holding it in place and pull out the half empty carton of ciggarettes before reaching into the glove compartment and pulling out my lighter.

I step out, leaning up against the side of the car and shakily light my smoke, focusing on the steady, even inhales and exhales of it, feeling calmer with each exhale.

During my first year or so of college, I smoked a lot of pot thinking that it would solve my problems. I ended up just hurting myself in the long run, but, occasionally, I have a ciggarette to calm my nerves. (lately, it's like two or three ciggarettes, but that's beside the point).

I take one last, long drag and exhale, making it last as long as possible before dropping the butt to the pavement and stepping on it.

I tape the carton back in its place and push open the double glass doors, telling myself that that ciggarette will be my final one.