10-0

10

Coffee is brewing, the strong dark roast smell seeping into my bedroom as the early sun peaks its way between the overpriced curtains I bought only a couple days before. Horns are being blown outside and cars are zooming by; but it’s almost a peaceful traffic wave, if California had waves of traffic versus the inevitable all-day bumper-to-bumper build up. It must be around 10am, due to the low amount of noise just described. I rub my eyes longer than someone who slept in the amount of mascara I slept in should, but it was one of those addicting kinds of eye rubs; where you feel kind of fuzzy but for some reason you just can’t stop. My white comforter is halfway off the bed, just a routinely annoyance because I’m the world’s biggest wiggle worm in my sleep. The half of the bed missing the covers looks happily slept in. She must be downstairs making breakfast. It’s Saturday at 10am, she’s already gone for a run, drank a pot of coffee on her own, showered, folded the laundry I left to wrinkle near the staircase last night, and gotten a start on my favorite weekend morning meal. Knowing her, she’s done all of this and more within the first couple of hours of this hopeful November morning. She takes advantage of her days. She doesn’t let time limit her. She runs on four hours a night because she chooses to see the world in different ways than others. I love her because of this.

“Hun I know you’re up, I heard the floor creak. Your coffee just finished if you want to come down before it cools.”

“I’ll be right down,” I yell back with a grin. She heard the floor creak. She’s attentive like that. She wants me down before my coffee cools because she figured out that I’m strange and love piping hot coffee in the morning because it wakes me up more than normally drinkable coffee temperatures. She learned that without me having to tell her. She’s just attentive like that.

I swing my legs off of the bed and opt to go without my morning robe. I feel like a movie character walking down my Cali apartment white-wash stairs in my satin nightgown to end up in my marble countertop kitchen to my attentive and lovable girlfriend. I’m living the life. People feel selfish for saying that but I don’t. I’m living the life and this movie is something I never want to see the ending of.

The floor is cold under my bare feet but once I get to the bottom of the stairs and the back patio door lets in the warmth being projected from the sun I don’t even care about my feet. I walk to the kitchen and sit at the island. A spinach and cheese omelette and a cup of steaming coffee in a mug. Beside the plate is a nicely folded triangle napkin and a set of silverware. She’s just so damn attentive.

9

“Cassidy passed by me at the corner of One Oak today while I was on my run. She was telling me about this get together her and Mark are having at their house next weekend with a couple of friends. She insisted we stop by. I told her I’d let her know. You know how they are though; a ‘get together’ means party and a ‘couple of friends’ means she’s flying in people from Miami to join us. They’re what now, 27? I think it’s time to stop throwing ragers no one remembers the next day,” she blabs on. I half listen and half watch the way the kitchen windows let in just the right amount of light to make her cheekbones glisten. Her nose has this little freckle on the left side that I could watch for hours. I’m obsessed with her in the best way possible.

“We could always stop by for a little bit and see how long we want to stay. Just long enough to be noticed so we can say we went,” I chimed back. She nodded her head in agreement while raising her own mug of tea to her lips and taking a timid sip as to not burn her tongue.

Truth be told we aren’t the partying couple our friends wished we were. I used to be, before her and I met. I used to go out Friday night and wouldn’t see my college dorm until Monday morning just to grab my laptop for class. I was wild. Life was wild. But now life is magical. Magical sounds cliche...more...more movie-like. Movie-like is what life is now. The power couple who people camp out in front of theaters to go watch. The duo who people envy the connection that is always obvious between us. That is life now. Life is movie-like.

We are the couple that likes to stay in rather than go out and drink on our days off. We prefer the classy life; restaurants on the shore with wine that costs more than the meals themselves, spontaneous trips to places we have to Google in order to pronounce correctly, candid photo shoots to capture and savor the moments we cherish, and our favorite is walks. We walk anywhere and talk and debate current world matters or who has to do the dishes tonight or who gets to pick what trip we take next. My favorite walks are the ones where we talk so much and get caught up in what we are saying and only realize how far we have walked and how much time we have been aimlessly wandering when the sun starts going down. Those are my favorite and those are our most common walks. Yes, we’re only 25, we’re young and free. But we choose to spend our time in better ways than tequila and strobe lights. We’re mature above our years and it’s what keeps me waking up every single morning to her.

She walks around the island and sits at the stool directly next to me and faces me. I put down my coffee cup just in time for her to grab my left hand, forcing me to turn in her direction. I look at her and every time I do I almost have to catch my breath. Her eyes are this milky blue and I swear her hair has strands of gold woven in. I watch her as she positions herself in her formal sitting position and gets ready to say whatever she wants to say.

“Two years. It’s been two years we’ve been living together. We’re financially stable and we disagree on what conditioner works better,” she snickers as she says this and I laugh a little more than I should, “and we’re the same size which doubles our closet and we like the same wines and I don’t know what else we could ever want from life. So…” she turns to her right and reaches under the island to grab a black bag I didn’t notice until now. She reaches inside and pulls out a black box. My eyes start to well up with tears and I put my right hand over my mouth in shock, the puzzle pieces falling into place inside my head. Movie-like.

8

Five weeks has passed and anyone who knows us has already called to RSVP to our destination wedding. I’m not privy to the wedding’s setting, which was very fitting for some reason. It felt right, the element of surprise being a basic structure of our wedding.

“Surprises are my specialty and the look on your face when the surprises are revealed are what I live for,” she says after I beg her for just a hint of where we’re going to be committing our lives to each other.

“Well when I get off the plane in my parka and my first step is into sand I’m going to be a bridezilla, just letting you know ahead of time,” I sigh as I give up and just go along with her crazy plan.

“Unpredictable is my predictability, darling. You know that.” I go crazy when she smiles at me like that, like her and I are in on some kind of secret. Just her and me. After she says that I walk away from my not-so-very-packed suitcase and walk towards her. I go up to her from behind and wrap my arms around her waist, both of us facing the vanity mirror. Using the mirror’s reflection, I look at her and say, “That’s true, you are very unpredictable. I don’t care where we go, I’m just happy that it’s finally happening. This,” I hold out my left hand and display the ring, moving my hand a little so the diamonds sparkle in the light,” is happening.” She smiles and turns, kissing me. We both go back to packing.

7

I should have sent her for coffee. I shouldn’t have gone. I should have stayed home and packed and none of this would be happening. Dammit. Everything was perfect. She should have went to go get the coffee.

6

“Babe, I’m about to pass out but we still have tons of packing to do. Want me to head down to The Jive and grab some latte’s or something?” I say as I yawn, adding emphasis to my request.

“With extra extra turbo shot, yes sounds perfect!” she peeps her head out of the closet long enough to shoot me a smile of approval.

“I’ll be back in 15 minutes then.”

The Jive was the common coffee house, the cute hipster one that every city neighborhood has. The one that always has ridiculously long lines, windows filled with the cutest pastries, with strictly indie and alternative music playing. Real poetry slam venue.

I walk in and I see a line of about six people; pretty short today. I stand in line for maybe three minutes, staring out the far window into traffic, watching a construction site crane carry four cement cylinders to a small structure that looks like they just started today. I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye, so, assuming the line was moving, I automatically step up. That’s when everything went to hell.

I looked up after knocking into something and noticed that something was someone. And that someone was Brynn.

“Sorry, I thought the line was movi...Brynn?” I lost my ability to take a breath. I look her over without seeming like I was staring at her. Light brown hair, green eyes that reminded me of Christmas itself, and her smile. That smile is one I couldn’t forget, no matter how many times I saw my fiancee smile.

“Wow. I would have never thought that I would run into you! I mean, technically you ran into me…” she smiles and I smile back, blushing because of my clumsy action. I used to be clumsy, but I’m usually not now. Did Brynn’s eyes get brighter?

“I’m running on low sleep and trying to desperately stay awake,” I giggle. “I’m packing for a trip.”

“Ooh, where is the most adventurous person I know headed off to this time?”

“Honestly, I have no clue. It’s for my wedding...I’m engaged and my fiancee likes to be mysterious,” I start to stumble when I see her eyes dim a little when I said wedding.

“I was hoping that huge rock on your left hand was a Christmas present from Nana,” she joked off. The mode wasn’t light now, but we both go with it and pretend we believe it.

Anything said after this I don’t remember. I know new numbers were exchanged, then the ultimate feeling of guilt set in. I remember hugging her as we departed, and she reached for my hand as we broke from the hug and looked into my eyes longer than two people at a coffee shop should. I didn’t even end up buying myself a coffee after that. I wouldn’t have any trouble staying up.

5

She sees it on my face as soon as I walk in the house.

“Where’s your coffee?”

I just hand her hers and walk to the kitchen.

“Fuck. Fuck. You saw her didn’t you? I saw her last week. I knew she was back in town, I just figured that being in a huge city would mean that I could keep you from seeing her before I scooped you to some fancy venue and get you hitched before…,” her voice dropped and her face was wrinkled with defeat.

She never swears like that. She never uses average words like hitched. She’s livid.

“I said yes to you. You. She just…threw me off balance for a second. I’m over it already,” I smile to prove my statement true.

She shook her head, looking down at the ground, and marched back to our bedroom, latte with extra extra turbo shot in-hand. Her and I both knew I wasn’t over it.

4

Her name was Brynn Brentwood. I know, sounds like some stuck up rich white girl, but Brynn was this down to earth rich white girl, so it worked out. Brynn reminded me of those days where everything just seemed to go right; not those days that you’ll remember for years and tell stories about to your kids, but those greatly average days. You wake up feeling rested, easily get ready, have plenty of time to stop for coffee without being late, your lunch is unique and flavorful, you look at the clock and it’s 4pm and your makeup hasn’t run or smudged a bit; just a really good day. That’s what Brynn was like. Nothing extravagant, nothing like the life I was about to marry into, but still great. Ordinarily amazing.

Brynn and I met in college, as every innocent couple who ends up breaking up does. We stayed up until 3am most nights talking about how we would design our future home, debating who’s side of the family our future kids would prefer best, looking up cheesy ways to take pictures on the beach and then planning days to go to the beach just to take the pictures, and do anything else besides study, drink, and experiment with low-grade drugs like everyone else enrolled in our university. We were supposed to end up together, but life got in the way.

I was diagnosed with an eating disorder, nothing worth getting into or reliving, but Brynn couldn’t handle it. She left at a time I needed support from someone close. We broke up, I got worse, she got sad, but neither of us did anything about any of it. I decided after a while that Brynn wasn’t willing to help me, so I shouldn’t sit around my whole life and wait for her to see that her and I were the pieces of this puzzle that should have fit together.

I focused on myself and pulled myself out of the ditch I made, with the help of hospitals and without the help of Brynn, which was the only way I have ever been able to look at the situation without breaking down. I got better, switched dorms as far away from Brynn’s as I could get, dropped some classes, met new friends that weren’t mutually her’s, and became the party girl on campus. Those couple of years were my honest to God favorite. I don’t remember half of those years but I feel like that means they were incredibly epic.

Brynn and I didn’t see each other for 2 years, until we conveniently were both asked to speak at a seminar for successful women who graduated from our school. We didn’t speak a word to each other the entire time, probably because I bolted after the seminar so we wouldn’t have to speak at the dinner following. But I have always regretted not talking to her that day, because I have always, in some small way, wanted her back.

My fiancée has always hated Brynn for what she did, how she left. I was a disheveled mess when we met and I told her the tale of Brynn. She knew Brynn and I’s story, she was aware of the love between us.

3

Luxuries in life has always been the goal for me; go to college, make some money, buy a boat; simple plan. My soon-to-be-wife gave that to me, along with my generous wealth I have accumulated in my short lived out of college life. She has given me the life that people make movies out of, the type where money really is no object. She surprises me with jewelry and fancy cheeses with wines to pair. She loves me more than she could ever love her family’s private island along the Caribbeans, or the four cars in the garage. She loves me more than the money and wealth we have achieved. But, Brynn feels like a home to me. I can see her and feel the most comfort I could ever feel, with a fluttery feeling in my stomach and an urge to just hug her. She feels like how the beach sounds; peaceful, sane, ordinarily amazing. I used to tell myself that I hated predictability; but with my love life, I now see that I want to be able to rely on what I have learned in school; use context clues to answer the question of “what happens next?” Be able to know how the next ten years will play out based on the previous ten. Who would chose to be in love with someone who seems to buy your love over someone who genuinely feels like love?

2

The wedding was amazing. The reception was beautiful, just as it should have been. Extravagant and eloquent. My dress was flowing and had a sweetheart neckline, with the perfect bodice covered in jewels and beads. We then all flew to Australia to this party on a white sand beach that’s overlooking the sunset. It was all breathtaking and movie-like. She flew just her and me to this island near Rio De Janeiro, where we spent a week long honeymoon, just the two of us.

1

Why didn’t I chose Brynn? My comfort zone, my security blanket? Simple; a man can get bitten by a snake in a field and declare snakes as evil, or he can own a snake as a pet and then get bit. The later would hurt more, emotionally anyways. It was his pet, his friend, and it turned on him. But, no matter how he encounters the snake, nothing changes the fact that it has fangs. Same goes for Brynn. Brynn has fangs. She left at a time when I needed her, a lot. She left when times got tough. I loved how at home I felt, but I would be hurt so much more if I would have let her in again, and had to be on edge until she decides when to strike again.

What I have learned in life isn’t that love is a bitch, or that people can turn on you at any second, or that people won’t save you before themselves. No, I have learned something so much greater than all of that. I have learned that the last person you should trust is yourself. Your gut tells you one thing and your heart another and your brain just constantly shouts a third. Every part of you is pulling in a different direction, so how could you honestly trust something that indecisive?

I chose what a movie ending wouldn’t. Running off with a past lover is movie-like. The protagonist finally realizes their true feelings and lets their heart be their navigator as they chase down said past lover and confess their feelings. But, what happens next? The credits roll, the movie ends. No one sees if the newly reunited couple triumphs or is subsequently defeated a second time.

0

Life continues. I see my past lover and exchange longing glances and remarks of happy belated over the years. She moves, the last time I see her I was unaware it would be the last. Anniversaries are had by my wife and I, one year, then five. We spend evenings at fancy restaurants with wines more expensive than the meals themselves, we walk and talk and debate current world matters or who has to do the dishes tonight or who gets to pick what trip we take next. All very movie-like.