Ice Latte ~ Short Story

I once read somewhere that life throws you a lot of curve-balls and you have two options, you can either catch them or let them pass. I also watched an episode of the Big Bang Theory that said you regret the stuff you didn't do more than the stuff you did. But I cant bring myself to have any regrets. I grew up in a small town in Idaho. My high school had about 500 hundred kids. I knew everyone in town and they knew me. My parents grew up in the same town. And when I graduated high school I went to the state university.

In my third year of college I met Peter Livings. He was handsome and I walked into him as he was leaving his Physics class and I was going to my Psychology class. His ice latte spilled all over us both. "Oh crap, sorry, sorry!" he said as I scrambled to gather my scattered papers. 

We grabbed the same one and just like in a movie our eyes met. His dark green eyes gazed into my brown ones. "I'm Peter."

He offered his free hand and I shook it hesitantly. "I'm Sovaria."

He smiled and helped me up, his eyes glanced down at my latte soaked top and his wet T-shirt. "Sorry about that. Um... how about I pay you back?"

"It's fine," I told him with a shake of my head, my brown ringlets swaying swaying with the movements.

"No. How about you let me buy you dinner? It's the least I can do."

I bit my lip and nodded. I grabbed a pen and began writing on his palm. "This is my number, I really have to get to my class, but call me, I'm free at 7."

"See you then."

And from there it was great. We went our our date and when he dropped me off at my dorm it was with a promise to meet up for lunch the next day. Peter and I dated for two years, I became a Psychologist and he became Physics teacher, then on New Year's Eve he proposed.

"Happy New Year, Ria," Peter murmured in my ear, our eyes on the sky as we sat together on a worn and tattered blanket on the dark field.

"It's not the new year yet," I whispered back, turning my head to gaze up at him.

"Five," he whispered. "Four."

"Two," I teased as a reminder of two years prior when he forgot three when he was doing to count down for all of our friends.

He chuckled and pulled out a small black velvet box. "Sovaria Wringer, my beautiful Ria, the day I spilled my ice latte over you has the be the greatest day of my life, because I meet the most amazing girl in the world and I am the luckiest damn bastard alive. So, will you marry me and make me the luckiest damn bastard ever?"

He opened the little box to reveal a silver engagement ring with it's diamonds glittering in the starlight. My throat closed up and tears gathered at my eyes. My hands were trembling as they raised to cover my mouth. I nodded at him as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Yes," I whispered and pulled him to me. "Yes."

He smiled and connected our lips. He pulled back and slipped the ring onto my left hand ring finger. "I love you, Ria."

We got married in late June of that year. It was a small wedding with our families and our friends and it was perfect. My mother was grinning through her tears the whole time and my father kissed my forehead before giving me away. We spent our 3 week honeymoon in Hawaii. We were the happiest couple anyone had ever seen. No we weren't perfect, we fought just like any other couple, we fought about where to live, the house to buy, but we were happy. Our daughter was born in the following spring. She was beautiful, she had his green emerald eyes but my soft brown ringlets. We named her April for she was born on the last day of April.

Two years later we had a son whom we named John after Peter's grandfather father who had passed just a few months before.

Our last child, Sonia, was born month early. Peter held my hand as I cried and watched them put her in an incubator. I remember carrying her home at last in a little pink blanket. April was five at the time and she took to her baby sister instantly. John took longer but the three were the best of friends. April went through her rebellious stage when she was 16 but when she graduated early at 17 she decided to stay close to home. 

"I love you," Peter said on the New Year's Eve after all three kids had left home.

I tilted my face up, "And I love you."

His kissed me and we turned as the fireworks started. He held my hand that carried my wedding ring and the diamond engagement ring that he had put on my finger all those years ago. I smiled thinking about our children. April had married and she was expecting my first grandchild in a few months. She was crying when she told me she was pregnant and she didn't know why she was crying. I told her that she better be prepared to cry over nothing for the next nine months. John got a scholarship to a school in California. And Sonia, my sweet little Sonia was attending the same school where Peter and I met.

"Spilling an ice latte on you," Peter said as he kissed my temple, "is the best thing to ever happen to me."

The next 17 years passed in a bliss and then our long summer turned to winter and we found out Peter had cancer. We had 3 more years after that and when he past our children and grandchildren stayed with me as I mourn. I never remarried. Peter was the love of my life and I never saw anyone after him. And now that I sit surrounded by my great-grandchildren and I still smiled and drink an ice latte every year on the date we met and leave one on his grave for him. I always make sure to run my hand over the words engraved on his tombstone. 'Spilling an ice latte on a girl is the best thing that has ever happened to me.'  

And even as I laid in my bed at 93 years old I tell my children and my children's children, "The best thing that has ever happened to me, was having an ice latte spilled on me."