Page 16

Comfortable Familiarity

Daniel

After grabbing lunch with Charlie, while he’s in the shower, I sneak out to meet with Olivia.

Ever since our fight at the poetry slam where things were said and feelings were felt, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. A lot of soul-searching. A lot of wondering if there’s a way back to what we once were.

And today, I’ve come to one conclusion. There isn’t.

It should hurt to realize that Olivia and I are no longer a good match. That the love we once shared has fizzled out. But if anything, it’s offered me some clarity.

I’m as much to blame for the crumbling relationship as she is.

She developed an interest in new things, such as poetry slams and the hipster lifestyle, and I’ve found interest in…

well, my best friend and a graffiti artist. Not that I’m ready to admit that out loud yet, but I can at least admit it to myself. Progress, I guess .

The fact of the matter is that we’ve been drifting apart since well before New Year’s Eve; I’d just been too afraid and unwilling to admit it.

Now, our relationship is a pale imitation of what it once was.

And it’s not that I don’t care for her anymore—I do, deeply—but my love for her has shifted, morphing from fiery passion to comfortable familiarity. The kind you have for an old friend.

My phone buzzes on the table, dragging me from my thoughts.

Olivia

I’ll be there soon

Me

Around me, the coffee shop bustles with the usual mid-afternoon crowd. I’m seated at a small table by the window, my leg bouncing nervously as I wait. I take a sip of my coffee and frown. The caffeine only heightens my anxiety, sending my already racing heart into overdrive.

Breaking up with someone is never easy. To be honest, I’ve never done it. All the girlfriends I’ve ever had have broken up with me. Being on the receiving end of it sucks, but being the one to break someone else’s heart? God, kill me now.

Setting the mug down, I glance at my reflection in the window. I’m wearing a light blue polo shirt and jeans. I hoped to strike the perfect balance between casual and put together. But I’m not a fashion runway kind of guy, so who knows if I managed that.

I barely slept a wink last night, agonizing over the right words that would soften the blow and make her understand. But every script I’ve come up with sounds hollow and cliché.

There’s no easy way to do this. No magic phrase that can take away the hurt. All I can do is be honest, no matter how painful it might be for both of us. She deserves that much.

The weather has warmed up in a matter of days as spring slowly gives way to summer. Normally, I love this time of year, but today, the sunshine streaming through the window is oppressive. A spotlight shining directly on my guilt.

My gaze drifts around the coffee shop, taking in the exposed brick walls and artsy light fixtures.

It has a cozy, laid-back vibe that I find comforting.

Charlie and I recently started coming here to study or hang out when we don’t have practice.

And now we’re at the point that the baristas know us by name and order.

But nothing is as it should be today. The air is too warm, the chatter too loud. Every scrape of a chair or clink of a dish makes me flinch. I watch the door with a hawk-like intensity, my stomach clenching whenever it opens, bracing for Olivia’s arrival.

But beneath the nerves, there’s also a flicker of hope. A tiny ember that refuses to be extinguished, no matter how much culpability and uncertainty I heap upon it. As much as I don’t want to have this conversation with Olivia, I can’t help but be psyched at the thought of what comes after.

More time with Charlie, with Harrison.

I drain the rest of my coffee in one long gulp, ignoring the way it scalds my throat. Breathe, Daniel. Just breathe.

The bell over the door tinkles. My head snaps up.

Olivia breezes in as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. But I know she does. We’ve been together long enough for me to recognize the slightly pursed lips and the pinched skin at the corner of her eyes for what it is. Hurt.

Her movements are graceful and fluid despite the chunky combat boots she’s wearing as she walks over to me.

A vintage floral dress hugs her curves. An oversized, faded, and frayed denim jacket hangs off her shoulders.

Her long black hair, usually pulled back in a ponytail, tumbles freely down her back.

A few wispy tendrils frame her face, softening the sharp angles of her cheekbones.

She’s beautiful, and even though I no longer love her, she still takes my breath away.

“Hey,” she says softly and tentatively, pulling the chair out and sitting down across from me.

“Hey.” I force myself to smile. “You look great. Very…Brooklyn chic. ”

She laughs, but it’s one of those polite ones. “Thanks. I bought this dress from a thrift store over spring break.”

I nod but have nothing to add to that. We sit there, staring at each other while listening to the people in line place their orders.

God, this is the most awkward we’ve ever been around each other. The ease and comfort that always characterized our time together are nowhere to be found. In its place is nothing but a suffocating tension.

After ten minutes of opening and shutting our mouths, I place my hands on the table, palms down, and clear my throat. “Olivia, there’s something I need to tell you.”

She glances up at me, expressionless. She knows what I’m about to say. “I had an inkling this wasn’t a casual coffee date.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About us and where we’re headed.”

Her whole body goes rigid. “And?”

“We need to break up.”

Those five little words hang in the air between us. Neither of us moves or speaks. Everything dissolves into white noise as we stare at each other across the table.

Olivia’s expression slowly shifts from stoic to forlorn. The tension in her shoulders releases as she exhales. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Daniel. Things haven’t been the same between us for a while now.”

I nod, relief and responsibility warring in my chest. “I know. And I’m sorry for that. I never meant to hurt you or lead you on.”

She shakes her head. “You didn’t. And don’t apologize. It’s nobody’s fault. The truth is, I’ve already met someone else.”

My eyebrows shoot up, surprise momentarily overriding everything else. “You have?”

She nods. “His name is Franklin. He’s an artist—one of those guys who creates amazing sidewalk chalk paintings, like Bert in Mary Poppins.

” Her face brightens as she speaks of him, a genuine smile replacing the strained one.

“We met shortly after the poetry slam, in Washington Square Park. I was taking a shortcut to meet up with some friends and stopped to admire his work. We got to talking, and it felt as if we’d known each other for ages.

He’s brilliant and creative. Passionate and caring.

And he sees the world in a way I never have. ”

She glances down at the table to hide the faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“I didn’t plan for it to happen,” she continues.

“I started visiting him every day, and the more time we spent talking, the more I realized that you and I were no longer an ‘us,’ and what we used to have, I wanted to have with him. If you hadn’t reached out when you did, I probably would have been the one to initiate this breakup. ”

I sit back in my chair, absorbing her words. A part of me is stunned that she’s found someone else this quickly. But more than that, I’m happy for her.

“Wow,” I say after a long moment. “That’s…great, Olivia.”

Her eyes search mine for insincerity or resentment. But she won’t find any. Because as much as it stings to hear that she’s moved on, it’s for the best. For both of us.

“I’ve met someone too,” I tell her.

Her eyebrows lift in surprise, but she stays silent, waiting for me to continue.

“Do you remember New Year’s Eve, when Charlie and I got arrested?”

She nods, and I see a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “You two were quite the pair that night. Thanks to me.”

“Yeah, well, we ended up sharing a cell with this guy named Harrison. He’s an artist, too, as it turns out. He does these amazing graffiti murals all over the city. And at midnight, he kissed me.” I can barely hear myself over the thudding of my heart. “And I kissed him back.”

Olivia’s eyes widen. She’s not angry or disgusted. Merely surprised…and maybe a tiny bit curious. I take that as a sign to keep going .

“I saw him again at the poetry slam. That’s who Charlie and I left with.”

“And Charlie?”

I give her a pointed stare. One that says, “Don’t ask because I’m not ready to say anything.

” She nods in understanding, reaching across the table to take my hand in hers.

Her fingers are small and delicate compared to my larger, beefier ones.

“As long as you’re happy, Daniel, then that’s all that matters. Just promise me something.”

“What?”

“That you’ll explore your feelings, with whomever it may be. Life’s too short to deny yourself a chance at a real, honest love.”

I squeeze her hand gently, overcome with gratitude and affection for this amazing woman. Even in the midst of our conscious uncoupling, she still wants the best for me, no matter what.

“Thank you, Olivia. That means more to me than you know.” I clear my throat to try and dislodge the lump that’s formed.

“I want the same for you. I hope that Franklin—wait, he’s not a turtle, is he?

” She rolls her eyes, cracking a small smile and shaking her head.

“Good. Because that would be weird as fuck. I hope that he makes you as happy as you’ve made me. You deserve nothing less.”

Leaning forward, she brings my hand to her lips and places a chaste kiss on my knuckles. A final gesture of love.

“Goodbye, Daniel,” she whispers, her eyes filling with tears. “Be happy.”

She stands up and walks out of the coffee shop before the tears can fall freely. The little bell above the door jingles merrily as she goes, taking a piece of my heart with her forever.