As I sit under the canopy, just outside The Moniker - a coffee shop not too far from my apartment - the autumn breeze is chill enough to make me wish I came out with a sweater.
I lift my head from the steaming cup of espresso and look around me. Just like me, many others prefer the view outside than within despite the falling temperature. It's just a little over midday when I look at my phone screen again. I carefully sip from the dark liquid, embracing the burn and it's bitter flavor. Times like this is when I truly appreciate coffee. My bones relax a little but tense the moment he comes into view and then occupies the sit across from me.
The sudden knot in my chest is inexplicable and I have no idea if the sound that escaped from my lips is one of surprise or one of shame.
"I honestly thought you wouldn't come. We were not exactly friends." He says and makes himself comfortable.
When I finally find it in me, I speak, "I was surprised. How'd you get my number?"
He tilts his head, "I have always had your number, Deraa. Believe it or not, I really hoped we would be friends."
The waiter comes and he orders a bottle of water. I don't think he was ever a coffee person and if he was, he would probably soak it in lots of cream. And sugar.
We fall silent after the waiter leaves. Things take an awkward turn and the air grows tense. Then he speaks,
"I never really understood why you hated me so much."
"I did not hate you." I counter
"Your actions said otherwise. You really did not like me."
"You never gave me any particular reason to, Kenneth. I really don't understand what this meeting is about."
Just as he opened his mouth, the waiter appeared and dropped off his water. He muttered his thanks and then twisted the cap off to take a sip. When he was done, he leaned forward, his elbows on the table.
"I just wanted to ask you why you did what you did. I extended an olive branch and you accepted. The next thing, you were blocking me and urging your sister to break up with me."
A spark of anger lit my gut, "I never encouraged her to do anything. I only supported her. You sealed your fate when you decided to believe whatever lies your friends told you."
"But you added fuel. You know, just one word from you and Denise would have still been my girlfriend."
"That's a lie," I say, "Denise was always her own person. You don't make decisions for her. She was always looking for a way out with you. That night was her way out and she latched onto it."
His brows furrowed, "Denise wanted to end things with me?"
I nod solemnly. I have always been blamed for the actions of my younger ones and unfortunately those traits carried into our adult years. Kenneth sighed and relaxed into his chair. I really look at him and see that he is no longer that inexperienced brat he was.
"Why did you hate me so much?" He finally asked.
"I did not hate you. I just didn't like you. You hit my friend."
"Yeah well, your friend was a blabber mouth and a bitch."
"That was no excuse. All for what? For the fact that she told my sister of your frivolous lifestyle?"
"No. She was poking her nose into my business and spoiling my name."
Oh. Now, I'm furious.
"What name? And what part was a lie? You know what Kenneth? You were so egotistical. And honestly, I am done here. I see that you haven't changed a bit."
I stand and drop a twenty on the table, not bothering about the change. He chases after me and I nearly slap him silly when his palm makes contact with the flesh on my forearm.
"And you're so perfect? You never even let me explain. You just blocked me before I could give you my side of the story."
"Did you let my sister give you hers? No. You just believed your friends and worse, you came after me like I had anything to do with her decision."
"Did you not?!"
I rip my arm from his grip, "No. And lest you forget, you called me a bastard. A bastard witch. I had every reason not to like you. You gave me no reason to like you."
His stance is intimidating when he towers above me, "You gave me no chance at all. I honestly thought we could be friends. I hoped for it. You were warming up to me and then it happened. You never even gave me an opportunity to defend myself. Friends don't do that, Deraa."
I am quiet because he is right. I never gave him a chance to redeem himself. In my eyes, he was the guy who beat my friend and the play boy who never seemed to keep it in his pants. But he tried. I didn't see it then but now that my mind goes back, he did try. And I didn't.
"I'm sorry."
He reels back, his face a blank sheet, like he was never expecting those words out of my mouth.
"You're right. I did not give you a chance. But you can't blame me. Your actions contradicted your words."
He nods slowly.
"I'm sorry too. I never should have called you a bastard. And I had a feeling Denise always wanted to end it," his hand rubs his face tiredly, "I was just really hurt."
I nod and without another word, I turn to leave but not before he promises to reach out to me again. Frankly, I have no idea where we go from here.
