I sit across from you in a loud coffee shop. Our table, our place. I know you’ll order a cappuccino and I’ll get an iced latte. We would joke about how we don’t even need to order anymore, they would just know.
Today, i stick to water. You skip the banana bread you usually get. Almost like we both know.
It would be very hard not to. Our conversations are heavier now, forced. “I’m so happy for you” and “I’m here if you want to talk” are said with forced earnesty.
My phone buzzes, a text from my boyfriend says, “give her a chance to apologise and make up to you. Call me whenever.”
I am ready, I have rehearsed this a thousand times now.
The wait staff leaves us our order, they’re new I think. I get distracted, what happened to the guy who is here usually. I know I wouldn’t be back for a long time, and i feel a sense of urgency to know.
You break the silence. “So, how have you been? It’s been long! I saw you went to Jaipur?” “I’m good, everything is good. All okay at home?”
“As good as it gets,” you say. ‘Although your home life is more solid than most of us have the privilege of experiencing,’ I think and immediately regret thinking it. Like I am scared that you can hear me thinking.
“Listen, I don’t think I can be friends with you anymore. I’m sorry for being so direct. But I think there is a lot of unspoken resentment we’re both harbouring that has poisoned this relationship. And I don’t think I will be able to look past everything that’s happened even if we resolve this.”
You defend yourself again. You’ve said these things before. I keep a count of how many times you say ‘I’ and ‘me’ in your response. I know I’m using it as a crutch to make sure I don’t change my mind.
I hear myself apologising to you. I hate that I apologised. I think about the fact that I will never play with your dog again, never have the kebabs your mom made. My mom will never pack a bottle of achaar for you. The ties break, this is it. I’m okay, you will be also. I walk away.
