chasing an illusion - pipabeth

5- always

"do you want coffee?" i ask her. it's getting late, but i'm not done asking her questions. i'm taking several gambles.

piper grins. "what, at this hour?" it's past midnight.

i tilt my head. "i know a place near here,"

the midnight café.

the café is kind of dim and a gust of warm air hits us as we open the door, spreading warmth against my face. piper follows me to the counter. there's no one in the shop except a sleeping college student in the corner.

ha.

i remember when that used to be me.

"good morning, annabeth," nico, the barista greets me. "haven't seen you in a while. since the launch of your last big project. how come you haven't been visiting me?"

i smile. "sorry, i haven't been able to stop by. you know, i've been following a healthier sleep and work schedule and don't drink coffee at four in the morning anymore." i glance at piper, who was looking forlornly up at the hanging café lights. "of course, until this girl ruined my whole deal."

nico rolls his eyes. "sleep. it's like i don't even know you."

piper gets a mocha and i order a latte. we sit in a round table in the corner of the quiet coffee shop. soft jazz music plays overhead.

"you know the barista?" piper asks glancing at nico.

"back when i slept around three hours a night and constantly worked, i was here all the time. he's real quiet type. nice, though." i tell her. "that's it for me. work."

"no one in your life?" piper inquires. i take a long sip of my coffee. i shift in my chair.

i shake my head. "no, not really. you?"

"there were people." piper said. "l.a. types, you know? none like you." she smiles at me. i feel the air grow warmer.

i manage to laugh. "right, like who?"

"oh, like chelsea- she liked to surf with me. huge jealousy issues. there was trinity- real big into astrology and crystals and stuff. broke up with me because our signs didn't match. alyssa- she was nice, but it didn't work out, we didn't really click..." piper says, looking down at her cup and not at me. "none of them were very serious. none of them quite like... you know."

like what? my hands fidget with my coffee cup. i shrug.

"i've just always wanted a good love story." she continues.

i feel like it's all a trick, somehow. looking at her makes me feel dizzy. it's like seeing a hallucination, but with form and substance. my mind can't make sense of it all- how she is here. a dream-like apparition turned into reality.

"what have you been doing, then? work-wise." piper asks. finally, a question i can answer with certainty.

"architecture," i answer. one word. sweet and clear.

"oh wow. that's amazing."

"what you're doing is pretty amazing too. up on stage and all that." i tell her.

she looks to the side and holds her coffee cup with both hands. her fingernails are painted with red paint. "yeah... it's something." she looks out the coffee shop window at the dark street outside. "are you happy?" she asks me.

i don't want to answer. it's too hard of a question. i haven't quite figured it out. "are you?"

she shrugs. "couldn't be an artist if i were happy all the time."

"no," i agree. "is it all worth it?"

piper smiles. "i don't write because i want to or because it's worth it. i do it because it is a way of survival." her finger traces the rim of her cup. "i'm not lonely or sad because i'm an artist. i'm an artist because i'm sad."

i tilt my head and i see her in new light. she seems to glow under the dim café lights.

we drink the last of our coffee. we listen to the sound of jazz and the distant traffic outside.

"it's late," i say finally.

"do you have work tomorrow?" piper asks.

"yeah, i do." i tug at my strands of hair idly.

"i have an interview tomorrow. we should get going,"

"right,"

"right,"

neither of us move. she smiles at me and i feel warm. "i don't want this to be over." she tells me quietly.

i take a napkin and a pen and write my number on it. "we can talk again." she takes the napkin and stares at the digits.

"your handwriting looks the same," she marvels. "you still write your 7's with a dash through it,"

"always have, always will," i say, smiling back.

and when we part ways, i still feel a sinking in my chest as the emptiness manifests again. i watch her retreating back. my mind fills with worry. how will i wake up early tomorrow? what will she text me? did that mean anything? there's always this dirty emptiness in me. with a bitter taste of ash. i wish i could cry it out or just go numb. anything would be better than this. but how can i feel nothing as i watch her leave, the heels of her boots against the pavement? she turns to get one last look at me and she smiles. and when she's gone, i can't do anything but feel a stone in my chest.

i can't escape myself. this feeling always stays. the words taste bitter in my mouth now. always have. always will.