And I’ve already started this conversation wrong by acting more hostile than I should.
“What?” she responds. “That’s what you’re going to say to me? What?”
No, what I really want to say is how beautiful you are.
How I’ve missed staring into your eyes.
Or hearing your laugh.
“I don’t know, Nola.” I blow out a heavy breath as I grip the back of my neck. “I’m not really educated on the subject of what to say to an ex-girlfriend who you haven’t seen in years.”
“Neither am I, but I’d at least have the decency not to come off as antagonistic.”
“Really? Because you’re coming off antagonistic right now.”
Dude, what the hell are you doing? Stop poking the bear.
I can’t help it, though. I’m out of my element. Self-defense has kicked in.
“Only because you started it,” she shoots back.
I let out a deep sigh. “I’m not about to get into a fight with you in the café where there are over a dozen sets of ears waiting to report on what they heard while drinking their coffee this morning. So, let’s just eat our breakfast in peace and ignore each other.”
There, that’s better. Offering a truce. Seems productive.
“That must be easy for you—you’ve had plenty of practice,” she says. Okay, so maybe no truce just yet. And yeah, I deserve her comment. I ignored her calls countless times after we broke up, but that was because I didn’t want her coming back here. I didn’t want her giving up her dreams of going to school in the city.
I don’t say anything, because there is nothing to really say, so I slip my eggs on my bagel and lift it up, and just as I take a bite, Nola leans forward so her face comes into view again.
“And for the record,” she says, slapping a hand on the table, “I’m not sure what you heard on that phone call, but I did not take Chris’s—my ex-boyfriend’s—stupid manual.”
I finish taking my bite, chew a few times, and because I probably hold the world record for most stupid comments made in a short period of time, I say, “But did you slip his ties in the toilet?”
See the steam coming out of her ears? Yup, I’ve done it now.
She rears back an inch, her eyes blazing with fury. “That’s between me and his ties. Best you stay out of it.”
“I didn’t even want to be near it in the first place.”
Or maybe a more correct answer could have been,I believe you. You don’t seem vengeful enough to put ties in a toilet.But I’m batting one thousand in the idiocy department, so why stop now?
“Aw, that feels familiar,” she says just as her food is delivered as well. French toast with a side of fruit. Classic Nola: some things never change. “You never wanted to be near me.”
I’m not surprised she’s throwing the past in my face. I didn’t handle our breakup well—I was like an immature pelican flapping his way around disaster and doing a terrible job at it.
Even though I’ve approached this whole situation like a floundering cod face, I’ve been struck with a moment of clarity. She’s really upset, and it’s all my fault. I should back down.
Back down NOW!
Tearing my gaze from her flushed and angry face, I dip my head down and focus on my breakfast. One nibble at a time.
Bite ... chew ... swallow.
Just focus on that process. Eat. Eat. Eat. And then get the hell out of here.I can take the bacon to go in a napkin.
And yet, despite my brilliant moment of clarity, something is niggling me in the back of my head.
You never wanted to be near me.
