Kindred Hearts

[Elodie]

The throbbing pain in my feet is hard to ignore as I walk briskly down Michigan Avenue, my heels clacking loudly with each step. Mid-day sunlight glistens off the many skyscrapers, making the streets look as iridescent and glowing as the city of Chicago itself. It’s the first sunny day we’ve had in months, and I can’t even stop to enjoy the view because I’m running late.

I check my watch for the time: 12:35 PM. I was supposed to meet my father at his firm five minutes ago. I sigh exasperatedly, slowing my quick pace to catch my breath. My cheeks are warm from the early spring heat, my forehead sweating and I can feel my perfectly placed updo starting to come loose. I don’t need a mirror to know I probably look a mess.

“I just had to wear heels today, huh?” I snark to myself, resisting the temptation to snatch them off. I cringe when I catch the strange and amused glances from a few passerbys.

Dad hates when I’m late. He absolutelyhatesit. It doesn’t matter if it’s five minutes, ten minutes, or two. He especially hates when I’m late for our weekly lunch meetings. I can already see the disapproving curve of his lips he’ll give me once I arrive. It always makes me feel like I’m a ten year old girl getting scolded again. Inwardly, I curse the metro which had been delayed by an half an hour for some unexplainable reason, and, therefore, turned my five minute commute into a twenty minute walk. If my car hadn’t been acting so weird this morning I would have just driven myself.

It’s not the end of the world, I think to myself before taking a deep breath, calming my still rapid heartbeat and ultimately resigning myself to the petty fate that awaits me. It’s then I notice that I’m right around the corner from one of my favorite cafes, and an idea hits me; If I’m going to show up late then at least I won’t be empty handed. I know if there’s one thing to make dad soften up, it’s a good latte. That, and showing up for lunch looking my best.

“Appearances matter, Elodie,” his words rang through my head as I begin making my way towards the cafe, it was the first lesson he ever taught me.“Other people may fool themselves into thinking otherwise, those people are not us.”

Red Lady Cafe was hard to miss. From the brightly painted ladybug decorating their sign, to the gorgeous jade green exterior, the cafe stood out warmly amongst the many industrial architecture surrounding it.

As soon as I walk in, I’m greeted by the scent of freshly ground coffee beans and the buzz of the lunch rush. The universe must pity me to some degree because I came right when the line had gone down.

“Welcome in!” chirps Emily, a young barista who never seems to go home. Somehow, it’s always her running the register whenever I come in. Her lips spread into a friendly smile when she sees me. “Oh. Hey, Elodie!”

“Emily,” I greet back warmly. “How are you?”

“Eh, same old. Are you getting your usual today?”

I’ve only been coming here for a few weeks, but it didn’t take long for her to learn my name or my order. Probably because the first time I came in, I left a $40 tip.

“Of course,” I smile humorously. “Would you mind adding a latte as well? With an extra shot, please.”

“You got it.”

I pay and make sure leave another generous tip before moving over to the pickup counter just as more people start coming in to order. Inconspicuously, I check my watch for the time: 12:47 PM.

“It’s fine...” I sigh while using the extra time to fix my hair. The cafe fills with sound. The churn of espresso grinding, the crescendoing cry of milk being steamed, the wands being purged moments later in a gentle hiss. The barrage of noise is almost soothing. I take a deep breath and try to let it ease away the stress I was feeling moments ago.

“Do you have hot chocolate?”

My ears perk suddenly at the deep and gentle voice coming from the register. There was something familiar about it. Curiously, I glance over towards them, and my heart stops.

Over at the register is a man. Even with his back facing me, I can tell he’s handsome. I take in his tall and lean stature, the dark navy suit he’s wearing, his freshly polished Oxford shoes, and the maple-brown satchel bag he carries. His serious, business-professional attire makes him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the feminine and slightly bohemian decor of the cafe.

But it’s not only the suit he’s wearing that makes him stand out to me. It’s the unmistakable hue of his ginger hair, the distinctive way he holds himself—his broad shoulders strong yet hunched as if he’s holding the weight of the world in them—and the sound of his voice while he continues making small talk with Emily.

It’s then that I recognize him.

“And what’s your name?” Emily asks.

“Easton?”

My voice is barely audible over the noise of the cafe, but somehow, he hears me. Easton turns around and shock colors his eyes as soon as our gazes meet—those dark brown achingly familiar eyes. I’m not prepared for the swell of emotions that rush through me at the sight.

“Elodie.”

Butterflies explode in my stomach hearing my name come from his lips. His voice is warm with pleasant surprise and I find myself smiling happily before I can stop it. It had been years since we’d last seen each other, but no matter how many years pass by, Easton isn’t a man I can forget any time soon.

Giddy laughter bursts from my lips, and before I know it I’m closing the distance between us in eager steps. “Oh my god. Easton. Hi! I can’t believe you’re here!”

It’s only when I’m a few feet from him that I notice the wariness on his face and the guarded stance his body suddenly held. I pause in front of him, now aware of the subtle tension lingering in the air between us.

“Sorry...” I stammer awkwardly, reeling in my excitement. “It’s just, uh... it’s nice to see you again.”

He relaxes a bit and smilies in response. It’s a small, wan smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s nice to see you too. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes. It’s been ages.”

There’s a heavy silence as we both take each other in. I can only imagine he’s feeling the same disbelief that I am. Disbelief that we’re in the same room after all this time.

“So... Easton?”

We both look at Emily, who’s now glancing between us with interest.

“Oh, yes!” he stammers and fumbles in his pocket for his wallet. “Sorry. How much?”

She just smiles. “Don’t worry about it today.”

“Oh, I couldn’t...”

“I insist,” She waves him off. “Good luck with your interview!”

He shoots her a friendly smile in acknowledgement, making my heart flutter once more.

“You have an interview today?” I ask quietly as we move aside.

“Yeah. It’s a pretty important one...”

He didn’t elaborate. Even though he hides it well, I can hear the nervousness in his voice.

“I figured,” I chuckle, attempting to put him at ease. “I’ve never seen you wear hair gel before.”

As I say it, my arm moves instinctively to push a loose ginger lock back in place. Easton freezes at the motion, and so do I, my arm still mid-air. Immediately, my cheeks grow hot and embarrassment mixed with shock floods me from what I just did. I had done it without even thinking about it.

Oh my god. What would possess me to do that?

“So, uh...” Easton starts after a long moment. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. He moves back an inch and smoothes a hand over his hair awkwardly. “How have you been, Elodie?”

I smile weakly, my face still feels hot. “I’ve been fine. I’m a financial analyst n. Which I like a lot.”

“Oh... nice. That’s good to hear.”

“Thank you. And you? How have you been all this time?” I go on, aching to know more about him.

Of course, always the vague one, Easton doesn’t give me much. He just shoots me a small grin and shrugs. “Fine.”

“Great.”

Another beat of silence passes and we both shuffle awkwardly on our feet as we wait for our drinks to be made. The air between us is charged with uncertainty, and it’s for good reason.

Easton and I dated our senior year of high school. We were basically attached at the hip for the entirety of the year. And while most people may roll their eyes at the idea of the high school sweethearts, Easton wasn’t just a simple, fleeting high school romance. He was the love of my life back then. The only person I felt who truly understood me.

It’s scary, the affect one single person can have on you. And, looking back now, it’s crazy that I was capable of feeling such an insurmountable amount of love for someone at such a young age. I would’ve moved the sun for him if he’d asked me to. I would’ve done anything for him.

But you didn’t,my thoughts mocks me, immediately halting my reminiscing before it can take off. The memory of Easton’s tearful, seventeen year old face flashes through my mind—the last time I saw him. Guilt and regret that I haven’t felt in ages swells within me, and I have to force it down before it shows on my face.

It’s been almost ten years. We were young and naive back then. He’s probably changed a lot. I’ve changed... enough. Things are different now. Which is clear, because while his presence is still amicable and familiar, there’s a distance in Easton’s eyes as he looks at me now. A hesitancy to engage. I can’t help the feeling that I’m talking to a complete stranger.

“So, what did you order?” I ask, wanting desperately to bridge the distance between us and keep the conversation going before it fizzles out.

“Just a hot chocolate,” he replies with a shrug and I can’t help the giggle that bursts out of me.

“You’re telling me after all these years you still haven’t grown out of your chocolate addiction?”

To my delight, a genuine smile covers his face at this, and warmth floods my chest when I see that it hasn’t changed one bit. The curve of his lips were still adorably crooked and his nose scrunches ever so slightly.

He chuckles sheepishly in response. “Apparently not. I’m not as crazy as I used to be though.”

“The hot chocolate here is pretty good, if you haven’t tried it before.”

He hums thoughtfully. “I haven’t. This place just so happened to be on the way to the place where my interview is.” His brows furrows as he says it, and he checks his watch for the time. Too soon, Emily calls out both of our orders at the same time.

Easton moves to grab his cup immediately and I follow suit. Both of us are now quiet, and the pressure of our chance encounter coming to an end presses down on me like a heavy-weighted blanket. My heart begins pounding nervously as I take my time to grab the two cups from the counter. From the corner of my eye, I notice Easton is waiting for me. More likely out of politeness than anything. I try to hide the nervous trembling of my hands while he watches me, unnecessarily grabbing two packets of sugar that I will never use just to take up more time.

The silence is still heavy between us as we leave the cafe together and the moment we’re outside, the weight of expectations falls on us. Or perhaps just on me. Because maybe it’s just me who wants something more from this moment—this crazy chance encounter that we may never have again.

As if he can read my mind, Easton looks up from his cup at me. His dark eyes hold an emotion I can’t place. I use the moment to take in his handsome features. The sharpness of his jaw, the strong shape of his nose, the thick set of brows that gives him that natural brooding look I always loved so much. The years have been good to him, and it’s hard not to appreciate the subtle changes on his face that set him apart from the adolescent teen boy I knew him as back then to the man he is now.

I take it all in as if it’s the last time I’m going to see him. My worries about being late for lunch with dad are no longer a concern. The only thing I want right now is to keep talking to Easton. For him to ask me for my number, or my email,anythingso our conversation doesn’t have to end.

Easton’s eyes grow wary once more as they look between mine. My hope of him making the first move lessens with each second that passes by. It’s only when the silence between us goes on far longer than appropriate that I know he’s not going to make that first move. Or worse, he doesn’t want to.

So, I do.

“Would you like to get dinner this weekend?” I ask, my voice full of uncertainty. “Maybe catch up?”

Just like that, the warmth wipes away from his face and is now replaced with a flicker of the same uncertainty I saw in him earlier. In an instant it’s as if I’m talking to a stranger once again. My heart sinks as I feel all progress we made from the conversation going down the drain.

“I...appreciate the offer,” he replied, his voice tinged with hesitation “But I don’t think I’ll have the time. I’m sorry.”

I wait another moment, giving him the opportunity to ask me for my number. He doesn’t. The sting of rejection cuts into me deeply and I feel a thickness gather in my throat.

“Of course,” I whisper weakly. “I understand.”

It’s more than the simple rejection I understand. I understand why he’s so hesitant. Why he seemed so nonchalant throughout our whole conversation. Why he seems to be okay with the fact that we may never see each other again after this. I understand it all.

Maybe if we had more time... maybe he would’ve accepted.

Or maybe if you had done things differently back then, he would’ve accepted,my mind reminds me once again.

Completely oblivious of the inner conflict, Easton gives me another empty smile. “It was nice to see you again...Elodie.”

“You too, Easton.”

With another small yet polite smile, I watch Easton—the boy I loved so long ago—walk away from me. I can’t help the sadness I feel weighing in my heart once he disappears around the corner, nor can I help the tightness in my throat once it hits me that what just happened was an extremely rare opportunity. And it slipped right through my fingers.