I had a knot in my stomach. “Will he show up?” “What if he sees me again and remembers why he left in the first place?” “Does he still want to be in my life?” or “Is he just doing this so I don’t bother him again?”
It had been nine months since I last saw him. I left town for my Winter Break, where I wasn’t going to see him for five weeks. Towards the end of my break, he realized the distance was too much and that whatever going on between us wasn’t going to work. Spring semester passed, and then summer arrived. No signs of him, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I never fully understood what happened or why he gave up on us. A new school year was starting for me, and after a rough night out, I got the courage to text him once more. To my surprise, this time, he did answer. We agreed on a date, and we were going to meet again.
“Breathe”, I said to myself, as I tried to keep it cool, but I didn’t know how. I arrived at Grand Central, and he arrived at Penn Station. We decided to meet halfway, corner of 55th street and Lexington. I was waiting for him, but those 5 minutes felt like hours. All of a sudden, I see him and my vision blurs for a second.
I hugged him and oh, I did not want to let go. Immediately I got a hint of his scent, I have missed it… I missed him. He was wearing round sunglasses, a white Champion windbreaker, black jeans, and as usual, white sneakers. He says, “we are matching”. He meant our clothes and he was right. I was wearing black cargo pants with a white crop top and my checkered vans. But, our clothes weren’t the only things that matched at that moment. I felt it. That warmth and comfort he always made me feel came back just like that.
We talked, we walked, and it felt like the first time I saw him, all over again. I remember that day too, I tried so hard not to stare at him every two seconds but I kept glancing over him shily, hoping he wouldn’t notice. We went to Penn Station and we ate at my favorite spot, Shake Shack. However, we sat at a different place called Wasabi. There was a huge sign that said we couldn’t bring any outside food, but as the fearless rebels we became whenever we were together, we sat there anyway. It’s funny, you see, just like the first time I saw him, we were going somewhere specific and ended up in a totally different place. This time, we had chosen the Vessel in Hudson Yards. Our time slot was 7:00pm-8:00pm and it was only 3:00pm. Needless to say, we did not end up going where we had planned. But it was okay, and somehow I felt like I was in the scene of a movie. We hopped on the Highline, and walked until it eventually reached a deadend. All I wanted was for him to hold my hand, to tell me he missed me, to hold me again. But that didn’t happen. With no idea of where to go, we found a Wine & Spirits right in front of us. He trusted me to choose a wine, so I did. I picked a red blend, Ménage à Trois 2017. We got a cab and went straight to Central Park. It took us a little while, but we found a big rock where we decided to sit and talk. Kids would occasionally run through our rock and interrupt our wine drinking, but we managed.
There was one instance where I asked him if I could have a hug after a very intimate conversation. He says “of course” and hugs me. This time for a little longer than when he greeted me. Again, I wanted that hug to last forever. All of a sudden what we thought was slow music is being played in a circle around us. I admit, I’ve never experienced anything like this, since this type of ballad dancing is not common in my Dominican culture. He loves playing a “what are the odds” game, where I challenged him to sing. He decided that he would rather dance and join the circle around us. That made me sad, I missed his voice, he could be an amazing singer if he stopped doubting himself. He asked me to join him for his dance, so we killed the bottle of wine and got near the circle. He tries to show me three basic steps; I don’t think I mastered those, but I tried my best to impress him. That’s when everything felt surreal. It was HIM, I was with HIM, dancing, and that became a world-blocking moment. He kept the cork from the bottle of wine and wanted to carve the date, but I didn’t have a pen.
We ended up leaving the park, and made a pit stop at the Plaza Hotel’s Food Hall. I went to the bathroom and when I came back he was outside, waiting to hug me again. We decided to go somewhere that was familiar to me, after all, that was my neighborhood my freshmen year. We went to Pig n’ Whistle, and sat in a booth. I couldn’t stop noticing his blue eyes, his strawberry blonde hair, which was a little more red than I remembered. His eyes were lighter. He was more perfect than ever. We ordered Margaritas and played a little game. He would ask me a question, I would ask him another, and if we answered incorrectly, we had to take a sip. At that moment, I didn’t have his tattoo to figure out, like I did on our first date. Instead he would ask me about his bracelets. I had known about the meaning behind some of them, but not as detailed as he described them this time. I enjoyed every second that made me get to know him even more. There he was, the vulnerable, yet strong fighter I had fallen for. I held his hands, but I was nervous to do so. I wasn’t sure if I was overstepping boundaries. After all, I wasn’t sure of what was going through his mind. We ordered a new round of drinks and kept talking. I was wondering if he’d ever mention what had happened and why I had lost him. But he didn’t, at least not yet. He orders the check and takes the pen to write the date on the cork “09-07-19”.
He decided to go to the bathroom, and when he came back he sat next to me, instead. I wonder why… But this was my chance, and I finally got the courage to ask. “So, what actually happened?” And he told me, he explained, he was honest. He said time and other circumstances prevented him from committing. I cried, not only because I couldn’t believe I was finally seeing him again, but because I didn’t know if it would be the last time. He hugged me, tight. We kissed, and I don’t know who started it, but it happened. He kissed my forehead just like he used to. I felt the butterflies people always talk about, and my hands were starting to sweat. My heart melted, I was happy, I was in his arms, and I was safe. But it was time to go, he helped me get a cab and as I said goodbye (which I really didn’t want to), we found ourselves in front of each other. I go on my tippy toes, I put my arms around his neck so I could hold on, and we kiss again.
That night, as I went back home, he remembered my connection to 11:11 and how I stop everything I’m doing to make a wish if I see it on my clock. He texted me at that exact time and said “make a wish”. The fact that he remembered that meant the world to me, and so did everything he said. He asked to see what I wrote about the first time we had met (but that’s a story for another day), and I sent it to him. He was glad I sent him that story, and encouraged me to keep writing. He made me feel secure, and I trusted his words, that he wanted to see me again soon, that he never wanted me out of his life…
All I know is that was the last time I saw him, and although I had felt like I was in a Hallmark movie at that moment, this one did not have a happy ending. I haven’t heard from him since, but I really wish I did.