I walked to the kitchen to get some coffee, but just when I opened the door, I realized I had made a big error. And I was not ready to face the consequences. No part of me was prepared. I had a plan I followed to the letter, and I didn't consider this—a rookie mistake, given that we always stayed late when we volunteered together at the hospital.
Brown hair, blue eyes. The first boy I loved was standing in front of me, on the other side of the kitchen. Only the island table separated us. I hadn't seen him for ten years, yet my body reacted like I hadn't stopped seeing him for a single day. Somehow, he had found a way to look a thousand times better than when I fell in love with him, and that frustrated me.
We stayed in silence for a while, just looking at each other.He looked as shocked as I was, as if he didn't expect to see me here either.
I took advantage of the situation to appreciate all the details I hadn't been able to see in photos. The little scar under his eyebrow, how defined his forearm looked when he flexed it to hold the cup. How deep his gaze was as he looked me up and down as if I were the only woman in the world.
I have always loved that about him, how his expressions made me feel seen, beautiful, and special. A single glance from him was more impactful than a hundred words from anyone else. And as he held my gaze now, I realized that this part of him hadn't changed at all.
Time changes people, but it doesn't always change the power they have over you. Standing there, I started to feel small, like all the walls I had built were made of sand, and at any moment they would break.
What should I do? Run? Pretend he's not there?
Part of me wanted to run to him, slap him, and replay everything that happened over and over again as if no time had passed. But I knew that wasn't the right way to bring everything back to the present.
"Hello, stranger," Kyle broke the silence. "How odd to see you here at this hour," he said, looking at his watch. "Or at any hour, rather."
"Ha, ha," I replied, walking calmly towards the cabinets to pick up my cup. My hands wanted to shake, but I didn't let them.
Come on, Lily. You can have a decent conversation and then walk away like this never happened.
"My boss needed me to fix a report. I'm almost done, so don't feel intimidated by my presence."
"It's funny that you mentioned me being intimidated by your presence," he stepped closer to take my cup, invading myspace in that subtle way he always had, "while you have been hiding from my presence for days."
I stepped back, creating distance between us. "I haven't been hiding. I've been choosing where to spend my time and energy."
Kyle remained silent as he walked to fill my mug with coffee. Then, without telling him anything, he went to the fridge, poured cold milk, and added two tablespoons of sugar. He turned to me and handed me the mug. "I like knowing that old habits don't stop, like trying to distract your hands and eyes while lying."
I hadn't realized I was curling my hair with my fingers until he mentioned it, so I forced myself to stop.
I took the cup while keeping my gaze on him this time. "Oh, so now you think you know me? Let me tell you that I am completely different from the girl you used to know." I looked at the cup's contents for a few seconds and handed it back. "I drink my coffee black now."
Of course, it was a lie. I drank my coffee exactly how he prepared it, but I wasn't going to let him think he still knew me.
He took the mug and left it on the table, then returned to my gaze, "And I would know that if you hadn't blocked me everywhere."
"We won't do this here," I said firmly, turning and heading for the door to leave this kitchen, which was feeling smaller and hotter every minute.
But before I could leave, he asked, "How's your brother?"
The question made me pause immediately. The audacity. The absolute nerve. How could he think he had the right to ask about my brother? After all this time? After everything that's happened?
Instead of crumbling, I felt a surge of something powerful rise within me, a protective fury that had been simmering for adecade. I turned back and looked him in the eyes, with my hand still on the door handle as a protection that I could leave this place at any moment.
"As well as can be expected for someone who's been in prison for ten years, Kyle," I said, my voice steady and cold. "What else did you expect me to say?"
His eyes widened, clearly shocked that I'd spoken so bluntly. To be honest, I was a little surprised myself. But it felt good, like finally exhaling after holding my breath for a while.
"Lily, I?—"
"No," I cut him off, raising my hand. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to walk back into my life after ten years and act like we're having a casual conversation. You don't get to ask about my brother when you're one of the reasons he's where he is."
He took a step back, as if my words had physically pushed him, and I was glad he felt intimidated by me. "I didn't come here to hurt you."
"Then why did you come here?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against the door, ready to hear his lies. My mind was trying to tell me this conversation was pointless, that I shouldn't be here responding to him. However, my body wasn't cooperating. I wanted to know what he had to say.
"I missed home, Lily. You can't blame me for wanting to go back to the place I loved."
