I picked it up, then looked around. My eyes darted around the coffee shop, wondering if he was inside, or just outside. If he was watching me at that moment, or was someplace far away. My hands started to tremble, knowing that if I saw him I just might lose my composure. I wasn’t ready to face him yet. Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurred to me that he must have known that, which was why he left me a note but didn’t stick around to watch me read it.
I sat down, holding the paper in my hands, wondering if I had the will to even open it or not. I hadn’t opened a single card that came with the flowers. I knew myself. I knew that if I opened the note, whatever was written inside would alter me. Would affect me. No matter what the note said, it would change me. I also knew myself well enough to know I wasn’t over him. Sure, I was better off than I had been weeks ago, but there was a part of me that believed I would never truly be able to move past him. So his note would either break me by telling me to move on, or force me to take action by telling me he wasn’t over me either. I wasn’t comfortable with either one of those scenarios.
No, I liked the smooth sailing I’d encountered since moving to LA.
I went to work, I did my job, I went home. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Knowing Riot had been here, been right at this table, jostled something inside of me, and I found the courage to open the paper. My eyes drifted over the paper, catching single, insignificant words, then hopped around some more until I finally closed them, took a breath, and started reading the note from the beginning.
Kalli,
I saw you sitting at this table one day, and I’ve seen you almost every day since. I know why you sit in the back, facing away from the door, not near any windows, and I’ve tried to respect that. I’ve tried to allow you the invisibility you’re obviously looking for. So, every day I come to this coffee shop, I take in the sight of you, and then I leave you to the solitary bubble you’ve created.
I get it.
I don’t know if you knew I worked here or not, but, in case you didn’t—I work here. Just on the next lot over, actually. It didn’t take me long to figure out where you worked after I saw you, so I imagine it couldn’t have been hard for you to find out the same information about me. That only leads me to believe you knew I worked here but were trying to avoid me.
Again, I get it.
But I don’t like it.
So, I’m giving you fair warning. When I come in tomorrow, if I see you sitting here, I’m going to approach you. I’ll sit down and say hi, and you can respond however you’d like, but I hope you’ll talk to me, Kalli. If nothing else, I miss talking to you. We used to talk so often. I’m just asking to have a conversation with you.
If you don’t want this to happen, I suggest you find somewhere else to be invisible.
But I’ll find you there, too.
Love,
Riot
Shit.
I put the paper down, closing my eyes and leaning my head back to face the ceiling. If I was being really honest with myself, I knew this would happen. I knew coming to LA meant seeing Riot. I didn’t, however, think that he’d contact me in quite that manner. It was just like him though, putting my needs first and giving me an out. Kind of. He told me I could find another place to go, to not come back to that coffee shop, but that he’d eventually find me and make it happen.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that all along he’d just been biding his time.
That sent a shiver through me.
He couldn’t be dissuaded. He could be put off, but only until he was done waiting. I knew that.
I pulled out my phone, and in just moments I heard Megan’s voice on the other end.
“Kal, what’s up, lady?”
“I got a note from Riot.”
“What?” she asked, sounding genuinely shocked. “What did it say?”
“Basically, it says that he knows I’m here, and that he wants to talk to me, but he’ll give me more time if I need it.”
I expected at least something from Megan; she was rarely quiet. But all I got was thick silence.
“Meg? You there?”
“I think you should talk to him.” Her words were firm, but also hesitant. She knew her opinion was going to possibly rub me the wrong way.
I sighed. “I kind of figured you were going to say that.”
“Look at it this way, you might never be ready to talk to him. You might never feel ready. But he will wait forever. He will hang on to the hope of you until he breathes his last breath. And that’s not fair to him. So, if you’re not planning on talking to him, trying to work things out, at least tell him that much. Let him off the hook.”
The thought of Riot waiting for me, silently watching me, standing by until he thought I was ready for him, made something clamp tight around my heart. The thought of telling him to move on, telling him I’d never be his again, well, day after day that thought caused me pain.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to him yet.”
“Do you think you’ll be ready soon?”
I shrugged then said, “Maybe.”
“Maybe,” she said with emphasis, “Riot is the one thing you need to move on completely.”
“I don’t know if you’re right,” I said slowly. “But I’m also not sure that you’re wrong.”