Work Text:
–
One day, I will stop falling in love with you
Some day, someone will like me like I like you
Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie
Pretend that we are more than friends
Then, of course, I'll let you break my heart again
-
15 and 17
–
Just out of her periphery, the faint erratic flicker of the overhead light threatened an oncoming headache. Her waitress, Rae, had just refilled her coffee and she watched the steam rise and dissipate in front of her face. The cheap, aluminum fork whined against the off-white ceramic plate as she picked it up to poke at a blueberry that had slipped out of the pie crust. The single scoop of mass-produced vanilla ice cream was nearly melted, spilling over the piece of pie that had now gone cold. It was half-eaten, but she had long given up finishing the piece. Colin usually ate the other half, but he hadn’t arrived yet.
She glanced down at her watch again - 9:04 PM. He was officially over thirty minutes late and Penelope Featherington had given up on his arrival. She hadn’t truly needed his help with her upcoming World History exam, he had just offered because she had mentioned it a few days ago at Number 5.
“Oh, you’re onto the Hellenistic Period? I can help you study.” His once-lanky teenage frame which had filled out from playing varsity soccer, leaned against Eloise’s bedroom door, promptly disrupting the best friends’ conversation of their upcoming school week.
“She doesn’t need your help, Col.” Eloise responded for Penelope, whose gaze flitted between the siblings. He rolled his deep green eyes and entered the room without a formal invitation. Her heart leapt in her chest as he plopped onto the blue carpeted floor next to her, flipping through her notes.
“I know she doesn’t need my help, El,” he said with a mischievous grin, nudging Penelope’s shoulder with his own as if to say, ‘can you believe her?’ Her heart constricted at the briefest contact and her shoulder buzzed with awareness at the spot they touched. It seemed as though he was doomed to eternal unawareness of her feelings, just as she was doomed to feel too much. “I was just offering to help, Mr. Lumley is tricky - especially his multiple choice.”
She looked up at him then, brown eyes meeting green, and she gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Colin. I’d appreciate your help. El is lucky and got Ms. Trowbridge for World History so she doesn’t understand us.”
Her heart fluttered again as Colin laughed and nodded. ‘Us’ was an alluring concept but she knew not to long for it. It could be nothing more than an elusive, maladaptive daydream for Penelope. But she would take any opportunity to bring it down from the clouds of her imagination and into some near-corporeal figment - not fully formed but close enough.
Eloise crossed her arms,a scowl furrowing her brow. She made it no secret that the friendship, if one could even call it that, between her brother and her best friend was unwelcome.
Colin stopped laughing, “Oh come on El. Pen and I are friends, now we’ll be study partners. And you? You’ll just have to get over it.” He turned to Penelope, who was still trying to stifle her giggle. “When is the test?”
“Next Thursday.”
“Are you free Wednesday? We can meet at Danbury’s and I’ll quiz you.” Colin had fully turned away from Eloise and sat nearly knee-to-knee with Penelope.
She bit her lip, “Yeah. That would be…wonderful, Colin.”
“Great! Uh, would 8:30 work? I have practice but I can meet you there.”
“Perfect, thank you.” Penelope knew it wasn’t a date. In fact, he had just explicitly labeled them as friends. But, what if it could be? Or could lead to another study date? They would share a piece of pie and giggle as they reached for it at the same time. They would start talking about Colin’s plans to travel to Greece, to see the Parthenon and the Temple of Hephaestus, all under the guise of studying for her exam. But then, it would get late and they would just be talking. Their feet would bump under the table, their hands would graze on top. He would look up and stare into her eyes; he would see her truly for the first time and he would know how she felt. He would close his hand around hers and she would know he felt the same way. He would move to the same side of the vinyl covered booth and wrap his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. Wordlessly, he would lean down and she would nod, knowing exactly what was about to-
Buzz! Buzz!
Her fork slipped from her fingers with a clatter and she blinked. The diner was still nearly empty and she hadn’t flipped a textbook page in minutes. Her phone buzzed on the linoleum table, flashing with several texts from Colin.
Colin: Hey, I’m really sorry but something came up
Her heart had already sunk to stomach before she read on. He was bailing on her.
Colin: I won’t be able to make it, Marina needed me
For Marina.
Colin: I sent you some links to a couple of practice tests that should help
Colin: You’re so smart, Pen, you don’t even need me! You can do it!
Her eyes burned with the promise of salty tears as the screen grew fuzzy. It wasn’t the first time he had broken a promise and somehow, she knew it wouldn’t be the last time either. Yet, that wasn’t why her heart plummeted and her breathing grew shallow. Penelope held no delusions about who she was to Colin, what their relationship actually was. But, but - what? There’s nothing more than that. He saw her as his little sister’s best friend and she dreamed about him taking her away from this small town. Colin consumed her thoughts, day and night. But she knew he only thought of her when he saw her.
But did it have to be Marina?
Penelope let out a wet chuckle. It wasn’t funny, but she laughed through her tears anyway.
She knew not to get her hopes up, she knew not to pull her dreams down from the clouds. They were destined to dissipate into misty rain before she could grasp the elusive fog.
And he was wrong, she did need him. Perhaps not as a study partner, she was doing well in Mr. Lumley’s class, but as a friend, as an important person in her life.
But to be so easily replaced? For someone prettier, more charming, taller.
A single teardrop fell from the corner of her eye and landed with a splash into her melted vanilla ice cream. She wiped away the onslaught of tears and sniffed, loudly. If anyone asked, she suffered from severe seasonal allergies and flaky friends.
One day, she would move on from him. One day, she would love someone else as deeply as she loved him. One day, someone would love her too.
But she knew that day wasn’t today.
Penelope: Oh, okay! No worries!
Penelope: I hope Marina is okay!
She set her phone back on the table and returned to her soupy pie and now-cold coffee. She hadn’t eaten much today, she had been too nervous. The fork cut through the soggy crust with ease and as she took a bite of the sugary blueberries and melted ice cream, the anxious pit which sat like a rock in her stomach twisting into an unsatisfied hunger. The pie was unsatisfactory and the coffee was bitter. She knew it wouldn’t satiate her for long, but it would do the trick.
It would satisfy her for now.
It would have to satisfy her for now.
–
18 and 20
–
The ruby red garland shimmered under the flickering light as each strand of synthetic immortality seemed to wave at her, a new high school graduate. A soft jazz, millennial cover of Baby, It’s Cold Outside played through the stereo disguised as an old-school jukebox. She shivered, not from the icy draft hissing through the window pane a few booths down, but from the looming threat of yearly think pieces about the morality of a mediocre Christmas song. Green and gold bulbs hung from the red trim and she was fairly certain the two above the radiator would be completely melted by New Year’s. The threat of toxic fumes probably should have frightened her more, (or triggered some state-mandated alarm), but she figured the microplastics in everything else were a more immediate concern.
She scanned the diner and most booths were vacant, save for the few occupied by the small group of middle-schoolers dropped off by their mom to celebrate the start of winter break. Her coffee sat half-drained, still bitter - a little cold. No one had been by to top it off in several minutes and she never flagged anyone down. Her pie still held onto the last vestiges of the oven, the blueberry jam painting the scratched up ceramic plate. It wasn’t too sweet this time, laced with a distinct tartness that blanketed the sugar. As she cut another piece and went to eat, she was careful not to let anything drip over the letters scattered across the linoleum table.
His words were splayed out around her like an intricate puzzle. It was Cain’s Jawbone for the hopeless romantics stuck on a hamster wheel subsisted only with short text messages, late-night FaceTimes, and endless, sprawling letters. Some were confessional, his worries about his place in the world and his delusion that if he just kept running, his home would appear like a doorway in some long-forgotten folktale. Some were detailed; he never seemed to run out of ways to describe the way leaves shook just before a rainstorm, or the triumphant yet profoundly lonely feeling of the mountaintop.
But the ones she had laid out in front of her read like a coded message she didn’t have the key to decipher. He wrote of their friendship and how much it meant to him, how she felt like a life raft, a lighthouse, a compass. He wrote of her calming and centering words on a page and sweet voice over late-night whispered phone calls. And Penelope knew he meant what he said, but each word seemed layered, like there was a second meaning that she couldn’t see below the surface. These letters were addressed to her, but they read like he couldn’t look her in the eye, or was looking past her as if he was intentionally obfuscating the real meaning. These letters about his future, his future with someone else, what that looked like - they painted a picture with familiar shapes she couldn’t make out.
I’ve had a lot of time alone to consider what I want, he wrote to her during a hike along the Italian Alps. After Marina, the entire framework of what I expected my life to look like was fractured and torn from the wall. I hear stories of couples who know from childhood they are meant to be together. Is it because they never left their small towns? Or is it because they never wanted to?
She had answered him, positing, why couldn't it be both? Or neither? Perhaps, people simply move through the world and choose to hold onto the connections they value most. Perhaps it has nothing to do with romantic love at all. Or maybe it does. But wondering why the nonna that taught you to make pasta has been in love with the same woman for over fifty years and you haven’t been, does you both a disservice. She is more than her enduring romantic love and you are more than your short-term romantic love.
And Penelope would know about an enduring love.
It had blown up in all of their faces. Marina’s betrayal, Colin’s shame, Penelope’s involvement.
He had skipped his own high school graduation, taking the first flight to Singapore he could find, leaving his family shocked and Penelope left in the wreckage of his relationship with Marina. Marina had been furious with her, Portia had been furious with her, and Pru and Pip simply went along with their mother. Penelope was sixteen, heartbroken, and completely alone. Even the Bridgertons couldn’t be her safe space, they were reeling from the fallout too.
It was a small town in middle America after all. A young, unmarried girl, pregnant, exposed by her cousin for trying to trap the golden boy of the town’s golden family. The book club moms had enough fodder for years.
Penelope stared down the barrel of a barren dirt road that summer and decided that it didn’t matter if her family turned on her, if she was all alone in a house full of people. She wouldn’t rely on anyone else; if she wanted something, she would have to make her own way. Mrs. Danbury gave her a job bussing and waiting tables at her diner and during her time off, she would study in her office. She looked into the best creative writing degrees with early college programs. She allowed herself to dream beyond the few stop lights in her town and consider a life different from this one. A life that may not involve Colin and accept that while for now, she loved him, someday, that love could look different. For the next year and a half, she worked and studied until she was able to graduate early and move to Chicago for school after New Year’s.
Of course, Colin would not go gently into that night as he never allowed himself to fully fade from her purview (making her decision to move on much harder). During that time, Colin eventually started to send short texts, which led to long calls into the morning, which led to the present.
Penelope, surrounded by his letters and cheap Christmas decorations, still in her 50s’ waitress outfit, as a storm howled outside. Since she graduated early, there was no stage to cross, no endless rounds of Pomp & Circumstance to endure, no frigid family with fake smiles to pose with. And she was alright with that.
She was happy to pick up her diploma from the administration’s office, shake Principal Rutledge’s ancient hand, and head to the diner. In a way, the diner had become the safe space the Bridgerton’s house had once been. Sure, she still spent time there with Eloise, but something had shifted after Colin left. The golden family’s light dimmed, their laughs were a couple decimals softer, one sibling always seemed to be glancing at the door. After a while, she couldn’t stand the dejected looks so she stopped going for dinners and game nights, opting instead to spend time with Eloise at the diner.
Most nights after the dinner rush were pretty slow anyway.
The cherry-red vinyl seat squeaked beneath her as she shuffled, trying to get into a more comfortable position. She picked up her phone even though she knew there were no new messages and took another bite of pie. It had gone cold and the crust was gummy, but it was dinner. Her mother had messaged her an hour ago, reminding her that they were leaving early tomorrow whether Penelope got a full night of sleep or not. It was a several hour drive in Indianapolis and her grandmother kept reminding (threatening) that this could be her last Christmas before she withered away and her only daughter and grandchild simply must visit.
Time was of the essence.
Penelope had been sitting in that uncomfortable vinyl booth for a couple of hours after her shift ended. Colin had let her know weeks ago while in Chile that he was surprising his family for Christmas.
“I’m still not ready to stay. I’m not sure what I’m looking for yet, but I know it’s not in Mayfair. But I figure after a year and half away, I owe them the holidays.”
She was snuggled under her comforter, the only light in her bedroom emanated from her phone as she whispered, “That’s so exciting, Colin! They’ll be thrilled.”
He paused for a moment and his green eyes pierced through the screen like he was actually laying in bed next to her. “And you? Is it too much to ask that my best friend will be excited to see me too? Especially because I’m coming in early to celebrate your graduation!”
Penelope couldn’t believe it, her heart couldn’t stop pounding at the prospect of not only seeing him, but that he would come back early for her. His best friend, he had called her. It was still enough for now.
“Really?” she answered. Colin nodded and smiled that goofy, self-satisfied grin of his. “Do you have dates yet? My family’s going to Grandma Priscilla’s for Christmas.”
“Yeah! I have a flight out of Reykjavik on the 17th into Chicago, landing on the 18th. I’ll drive down that day.”
She let out a muffled squeal. “We’re leaving on the 20th so I’ll see you on the 19th!”
The following weeks come, in between preparing to move, getting ready for the spring semester, and justifying to El for the hundredth time why she was doing all of this in the first place, Penelope decided she would tell Colin that she loved him. Tell him that she had loved him for years, that her heart still fluttered at his text messages, that each midnight call was a sweet agony she yearned for as soon as they hung up. She was going to tell him that she was letting him go, that her love may endure like a single candle at night, but it would not illuminate her whole sky.
Penelope wanted a fresh start and she knew that in order to move on, she couldn’t carry this secret anymore. So she collected their letters, read through old messages, and mounted her case. She was ready to love him and lose him over a cup of coffee and blueberry pie a la mode.
That had been two days ago.
December 17th, 9:30 PM GMT
Colin: My flight’s been delayed because of a big storm. I’m gonna try and get one out tomorrow morning.
Colin: I’m so sorry, Pen. I’m gonna see you! I promise.
Her heart cleaved in half and she swore she could feel the other half plummet into her stomach where it sat like a lead balloon. She didn’t hold out hope that he would make it, nor did she hold any resentment. Penelope had been carrying the weight of her love for years, surely she could fit her Colin sized baggage into her U-Haul.
So, as Colin flew over the Atlantic on December 19th, some unexamined part of Penelope told her to sit and wait for him, one last time. To let him break her heart once again.
And so she did.
She finished her coagulated piece of pie and choked down the last of her bitter coffee, gathered the unsolved mystery of his letters, and paid her bill.
–
23 and 25
–
Technically speaking, the diner was not “open” in the traditional sense. However, Mrs. Danbury had given her a key several years ago for emergencies and it seemed as good a time as ever to cash that in. She didn’t bother turning on all of the lights as she sat perched atop the red vinyl stool. A crisp, early summer night breeze blew through an open window as the sweet and tart scent of her reheated blueberry pie wafted around her. Penelope leaned over the bar as she rested her chin on her hand, mindlessly poking at her dessert, still too hot from the microwave. Her coffee percolated and her phone rested in a plastic cup, amplifying music across the empty diner because she couldn’t be alone with her thoughts.
That didn’t stop her thoughts, of course. She saw snippets of the night in every corner of the diner. She could envision Ben and Eloise in the booth to her right, laughing about Anthony’s over-the-top performance of charades in front of the jukebox. She could see Violet with Mrs. Danbury behind the counter, ruling over the crowd of party-goers. She could see Colin at the coffee pot, offering a fresh cup of coffee with a disarming smile reserved for her. But as she stood and walked around to the other side of the bar to pour herself her own cup of hot coffee, Penelope glanced at the door.
She saw him storm out, the screen flapping long after the door slammed behind him and she remembered she was all alone. There were no Bridgertons around, he had left her behind, and she was left with the fallout.
The sun was low, casting burnt orange rays through the trees lining the Bridgertons’ sprawling estate. Fairy lights were draped amongst the leaves and 300 of Violet Bridgerton’s closest friends and families were chattering. Heat lamps were already set low, awaiting the moon’s arrival, and Penelope clung to it like a life raft. It was her first time back in Mayfair in several years. Violet was turning 60 and specifically requested Penelope’s presence, along with her new boyfriend.
“It’s been too long since you’ve been to the house. I know you and El are living exciting lives in Chicago, but it would mean so much to see you,” Violet had said over the phone, two weeks prior to the party. She employed her most motherly tone and Penelope knew saying no wasn’t a real option. “I know all of the family misses you. And Colin would love to see you.”
Oh, Colin.
“He’ll be in town?” Penelope asked, steadying her voice over her thundering heartbeat. “That’s wonderful.”
“Yes! Did he not mention it?” Violet spoke like it was a question but it was clear she knew the answer.
“Uh, no. We spoke a while ago but it’s - I’ve kind of been seeing someone.”
There was a pause and for just a second, Penelope knew she had caught Violet off guard. “Wow,” surprised tinged her voice before she recovered. “That is wonderful! You must bring them. I insist!”
A single, syrupy blueberry rolled around her plate and she chased it with her fork. Just weeks ago, it seemed impossible that she would end up back at Danbury’s, alone and heartbroken again. While she kept up with Mrs. Danbury, Penelope hadn’t worked there in years and quite literally had not stepped foot in Mayfair since she left. And yet, here she sat again.
No one but the Bridgertons had spoken to Penelope in minutes. Despite the years that passed and the new person she had worked so hard to become, the residents of her small town treated her the same way they always had.
Which is to say, they didn’t treat her in any particular way at all. They still saw through her, their eyes skating past her own as if she were nothing more than a framed abstract painting from Pottery Barn hanging along the hallway of a Holiday Inn Express. Forgettable and unremarkable.
Her glass of chilled white wine warmed between her fingers as she passed the stem between them. Her eyes darted around the dimming backyard and she tapped her foot. He had been gone for several minutes now and she was ready to ditch the whole affair entirely. Penelope huffed and placed her still full glass on a nearby high top.
She thought to herself, ‘This whole thing was a complete waste of -’
“Pen!”
Oh, God.
He walked up to her with that broad grin, his arms outstretched for a hug, and effortlessly charming disbelief.
“Colin!” She started toward him, stunned that he was here. He was a corporeal being, not just a rendering via liquid crystals and BIC ballpoint pens. Was it possible he was taller? He was certainly broader, perhaps sturdier. Gone was the lanky teenager with a fresh wound and a grudge. In his place was a young man with a stronger body and weathered soul; still excitable, but at his core, pensive.
Penelope had nearly crossed the small patch of grass toward him when Alfred appeared by her side. “Is this the famous Colin?”
She stood in front of Colin and suddenly a hug seemed inappropriate - no - disrespectful but she couldn’t identify why. Colin turned to Alfred and dropped his arms, confusion and moonbeams marring his newly chiseled face for a brief second.
“Indeed, and you are?” He stuck his hand toward Alfred and his eyes flashed with…something Penelope couldn’t name. Alfred wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close as he shook Colin’s hand.
“Oh, I thought Penny would have mentioned me. I’m Dr. Alfred Debling.”
Penelope winced at the nickname and prayed Colin didn’t notice. But of course, he caught her eye and that same flicker of confusion crossed his face. As if each new piece of information threw off his center of gravity, that a version of herself could exist separate from him and their letters.
“Hm, well, lovely to meet you Alfie,” Colin said with a smirk that to any passerby would seem sincere, but as Penelope glanced up at Alfred, she knew he wasn’t fooled. She wasn’t sure where this childish behavior was coming from - Penelope had only ever known him as a friendly and congenial person.
Was he really that upset that she hadn’t mentioned her new partner? He wasn’t entitled to every aspect of her life. (And if there was any particular reason why she chose not to share this specific aspect with Colin, well, she wasn’t on trial today.)
“It’s Alfred,” his tone was clipped, like he was reprimanding a student in class.
“Sure it is.” Penelope’s eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at her friend. “Pen, Eloise was looking for you, so let’s…” Colin held out his hand, pointedly ignoring her incredulous expression and Alfred’s existence.
“I just saw Eloise inside with her sister. She didn’t mention wanting to speak with Penelope.”
She saw Colin clench his jaw as he slowly turned his head toward Alfred. “Well she mentioned it to me. So, Pen?”
Her eyes flitted between Colin’s hand, his face, and Alfred’s tight expression. She was paralyzed with indecision until she felt the loss of Alfred’s body and pressure of his hand. “It’s fine, Penny.”
Her face flamed and she looked up at her boyfriend, disquieted by his ‘permission.’ “I know it’s fine.”
Without another glance back, Penelope placed her hand in Colin’s, touching him for the first time in eight years. It was both familiar and deeply unknown. His hands were rougher, calloused through labor but the contact was centering, she felt like she could take a fortifying breath for the first time in eight years. Colin squeezed her hand as a genuine smile graced his lips. It was nothing new and yet entirely different. A study in contradictions she wasn’t sure she was ready to unpack. By any measure, they should have lost contact years ago. But as time and physical distance separated them, their communications only magnified.
“I can’t believe you’re really here, Pen.” Colin stopped them just at the patio door to scoop her up in his arms. “Eight years is too long,” he whispered into her hair as he held her tight.
She could confirm he had gotten taller and he smelled - incredible. Her arms encircled his waist and she was on her tip toes as he pulled her closer.
“I know, far too long,” she croaked. The fairy lights became blurry and before she realized what was happening, a few tears escaped and decorated his Heather grey henley.
He pulled back too quickly, “Hey, it’s okay. I really missed you, too.”
As he wiped her tears away with his thumbs, framing her face with his hands, tears of his own ran down his cheeks. “Oh, Col,” she said through a giggle. He rewarded her with a classic Colin belly laugh, his head tipped back as they both burst into uncontrollable laughter and she still couldn’t believe they were really there, together. After a moment, their giggles subsided and she smiled up at him. “We’re a bit of a mess, aren’t we?”
His hands were on her waist until he reached up with one to give a light tug on her auburn curls, “Yeah, but that’s okay.”
She scoffed at the memory as she poured a bit of sugar into her mug. Mess. It would have been a sweet moment if it wasn’t so foreboding. Penelope placed the sugar back on the counter and returned to her stool. She swiveled, back and forth and back and forth, until she spun in a full circle. Her phone was still playing from the Lofi Calming Jazz for Heartbreak playlist.
He was so…presumptive. He marched over like a drill sergeant and with accusations of, well, it didn’t matter much now.
Penelope was back at the diner, nursing another heartbreak. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the door, wishing -
Wishing got her nowhere.
She swiveled back to the counter and stirred her coffee, the wooden stick stained a deep brown. It was still too hot to drink, but Penelope let it burn her tongue anyway.
“Are you cheating on me?”
Penelope choked on her fresh glass of wine. She stepped away from her conversation with Colin, the promise of finding Eloise long forgotten. She sat in the breakfast nook of the Bridgerton’s kitchen and memories of Saturday pancakes after Friday night sleepovers rushed back as soon as she sat down.
“Excuse me?” She looked up at him. Alfred cut an unexpectedly intimidating figure as he leaned over the small table.
He rolled his pale blue eyes, “Colin. Are you cheating on me with that kid?”
“That ‘kid’ is twenty-five. And no, I haven’t seen him in eight years. Where is this all coming from?” Penelope considered herself a smart woman, but couldn’t make heads or tails of his unexpected consternation.
“Whatever. It’s clear there’s something between you too and you know I’m about to leave. I can’t be with someone that’s obviously pining for someone else.”
“I’m not pining after -”
“Just tell me before I waste more time, do you want anything to happen between you and Colin?” Penelope blinked, caught between truth and security.
“That’s not, I mean that’s not even possible.”
Alfred sighed and stood up straight, “That non answer is answer enough.”
Penelope grabbed a handful of napkins and dabbed underneath her eyes in a desperate attempt to stymie the flow of her tears. After Alfred’s accusation and his subsequent exit, she fled the Bridgerton’s.
“Pen! Wait, where are you going?” Colin shouted from the front door as she scrambled to unlock Eloise’s car.
“I’m fine, Colin. I just have to get out of here.” She slipped into the driver’s seat and wiped her eyes. He started toward the car and she locked the doors but cracked her window. “Seriously, it’s fine.”
“What did that asshole say to you?” he growled.
Penelope let out a humorless laugh. “He suggested that there was something between us, that I had cheated on him with you which is of course ridiculous and I just have to get back to Chicago, okay?”
She rolled up the window without another word and drove to Danbury’s.
She had texted Eloise that she was driving back to Chicago first thing in the morning but had muted her phone from any other messages. She could wait out here until dawn. Eloise was planning on sticking around for a little longer anyway, it was a perfect plan. She cut another piece of pie and chewed - it had gone cold again. Her fork fell with a clatter and she opted for a sip of coffee again.
As much as she valued Mrs. Danbury, she couldn’t allow herself to be here ever again. She set her coffee down and covered her pie with a napkin, ready to throw it away and head to Chicago even earlier. She stood and paused at the unexpected chime of the door.
“We’re closed!”
“Pen, wait.”
–
+1
–
A Few Months Later…
The bell chimed as she walked through the door, that familiar pealing sound once haunted her and now was only a harbinger of good memories. It was busy, the white noise of customers and bustling wait staff swirled around her. She loved the morning rush.
A girl, no more than a teenager, approached with two menus. “Table for two?”
His head popped out from behind her as he gripped her waist, “Yep, thank you.”
He laced her fingers through his and walked beside her to the cherry-red vinyl booth that squeaked as she sat down and scooted over so he could sit on the same side. The hostess laid their menus down with promises of coffee and their server.
“How does it feel to be back here?” he asked as he dropped a kiss on the center of her palm.
“Hm, do you mean Mayfair, or here, with you?”
He gestured to the busy diner. “Here.”
She laid her head on his shoulder and let out a contented sigh. “I feel happy and…grateful.”
They were only back for the weekend, it was one of his many niblings’ birthdays and when they had moved in together up in Chicago, they vowed to visit home more often. She was certain it still wasn’t enough for his mother, but they weren’t ready to move back to Mayfair yet. Her job was there and it was the first place he had formally settled in nearly a decade. There were learning curves and challenges, but mostly there was love. Love forged through years of communication and friendship and declared right here, on an early June night.
“How do you feel?” she countered, not needing to look at the menu.
Before he could answer, his stomach answered for him. “Uh, hungry, evidently,” he said through a chuckle. “But I agree, very happy and very grateful. I can’t believe we have to drive back today.”
The weekend had been packed with Daphne’s over-the-top birthday party for a two-year-old, nights spent with his siblings around a bonfire, drinking beers and laughing at Anthony’s inability to play card games normally, and lots of chosen family. “I know, but we’ll be back soon now for Ben and Sophie’s wedding.”
Gone were the days of speculation, of worry about her future. Because as he wrapped his around her shoulder and swore up and down he could finish a ‘grand slam’ breakfast, she only laughed. She didn’t worry, she didn’t speculate, she just enjoyed her meal of eggs (over-easy), two pieces of whole wheat toast (with mixed berry jam), and crispy hashbrowns (with ketchup). She still sipped her bitter coffee but added a splash of milk. (It helped, marginally).
It was okay to enjoy things, to sit and have a meal with a loved one in a crowded diner with hokey music and a drafty window. It was okay to let food nourish and friends care. It was okay to live.
“I love you, Colin,” she whispered.
He kissed her head, “I love you too, Penelope.”
–
x.