Coffee and Memory LaneMature

            Despite what you said about not being in high school anymore, you offer to pay for Katie's coffee. You tell yourself you're not buying her coffee; rather that it's out of some feminist urge, because women are still subtly treated like an oppressed majority. You've treated yourself to something expensive, which they're piling high with a swirl of cream, and await her order.

            "I'm off coffee," she says, "Doctor's orders."

            You wait for the sarcastic grin to tell you she's kidding, but it never comes.

            "I can't give up chocolate though, despite what he says. I'll have an iced hot chocolate."

            While wondering which of the minimum-waged idiots across the counter wrote 'iced hot' on the menu of this cozy little coffee shop, you pay for the drinks with your debit card while she picks out the only clean table.

            Katelyn yawns, as if she's ready to curl up and sleep on the table, with her purse as a pillow. There's something comical about it that puts a smile to your face.

            Then, I walk out of the bathroom. I'm your ex-wife. You don't notice me, as you're too drunk.  And, luckily, I don't notice you either. However, I noticed your car in the parking lot at the reunion, which is why I came here instead.

            "What's your name?" she asks.

            You tell her your name, "John Michaels."

            I'm shocked. Quickly, I turn around in my seat and notice that Katelyn is just as shocked. And seeing her, I remember who she is. Who she was. My chest knots itself up with jealousy, contempt and faded respect.

            Her face is contorted, her eyes squinting. She seems to be struggling to picture your face without that unshaven stubble. Finally she stops, and grins with focus.

            Something inside you tightens up. I know, because I've heard that gasp before.

            "We dated, Johnny boy," she says, nervously pulling at a strand of that awful hair.

            You pause for a breathless moment. I've seen you do it before. It's those moments that drove me crazy. Perhaps a little too crazy.

The End

2 comments about this story Feed