Regulus Black and I started dating the year after I graduated from university. He graduated from NYU the same year and started at Columbia Law School that fall. It has been three years since then, and Reg was hired by a hot-shot law firm in FiDi, and one day, he’ll make partner. Since graduating, I’ve been trying my best to find something I’m passionate about. Recently, I’ve been thinking about opening a cafe and abandoning my soul-sucking position as a faceless pawn in a grand corporate scheme. Reg doesn’t think I should explore my cafe idea, something about “job security” and "being practical," but shouldn’t I do what makes me happy? I don’t know if Regulus is happy, but I think I should probably know. I know he’s been stressed at work, about his boss taking him seriously, and about being the best of the first-year associates.
We’ve been arguing a lot lately, and I can’t recall the last time we kissed. I’m trying to be supportive but it hasn’t been easy with both of us working full time and him sneaking off at all hours of the night to “client meetings” and to “prep for cases.” I push all of this out of my mind and I tell myself I’m going to talk to him tonight and tell him that I miss him and I want to spend more time together. I don’t want to think about how all of this could go.
What I do want to think about, however, is how my dream cafe would look, what drinks I would serve, how I would spend my day making drinks for the neighborhood and what apron I would wear, and how I would dress. Would I wear a green or a blue apron? I think…
…
...
The sound of keys startles me out of my dream, Reg must be home. What time is it? Oh. It’s almost seven, I must’ve fallen asleep. I quickly stand up from the couch and make my way to the kitchen.
“Hey, I’m home.”
“Hey baby, how was work?”
“Fine, I’m starving though.”
“Okay, how about the new Italian place a few blocks away? I’ve heard good things.”
“I don’t want Italian for dinner.” Of course, he doesn’t. I start to anxiously straighten the towels hanging pathetically from the weary stove.
“Oh okay. Well, I don’t really want Thai for dinner, again.” I grip the towel like it’s a life ring and meet his eyes.
“There are things we both like at the Thai place, I don’t understand why you don’t want it.” He turns sharply and hangs his coat on one of the brass hooks that juts violently out of the smooth plaster.
“Well, I don’t understand why we always have to do what you want to do.” I cross, then uncross my arms and lean against the cold steel of the refrigerator.
“What are you talking about?”
“Every time I suggest something, I end up conceding and doing whatever you want.” I open the fridge and lean in, staring as the cool light illuminates the kitchen.
“That’s so not true.”
I straighten my spine and swiftly shut the door. I turn to him, but I think I’m only just starting to see him.
“Okay. What about my cafe? You don’t want me to do that. You just want to control everything.”
“Not this again,” Regulus huffs under his breath. I still caught it.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I can’t do this right now.” He starts to toe his shoes on.
“So what? You’re just going to leave? Where will you go?” I guess Thai is fine, maybe we can do Italian next week. I start walking towards him, deciding how I can convince him to stay.
“I don’t know, maybe Lucius’,” he says with a cold edge in his voice. I freeze.
“Lucius? Your ‘coworker?’ That Lucius? The one who you won’t stop texting?” He yanks his coat off of the hook. I really hate those hooks.
“I was literally just saying we should eat somewhere we both like. You’re being crazy, it's just dinner. I don't know why you always want to start a fight.” He is standing with his back to me, his hand on the doorknob with a white-knuckled grip.
“You aren’t listening to me, I want something different.” I want someone different.
The silence hangs heavy around us.
“Well, maybe you should go find something different.” He finally twists the knob like the knife in my heart.
“If you leave now, don’t come back.” I stare daggers into the back of his dark-haired head. Turn around! My mind is screaming but I can’t wrap my mouth around the words.
My vision blurs as tears prick my eyes. I can’t hold back the flinch as the door slams for the last time.
…
...
I clean my glasses on my shirt as I walk up to the doors, turning the lock and flipping the “Open” sign. I think I’ll wear my green apron today.
I turn and walk towards the back to pull my apron off of the hooks behind the door.
The bell rings behind me, signaling a customer. “I’ll be right with you!” I call over my shoulder. I hoist a bag of coffee off the shelf that’s just too big to see over, and I shoulder past the doors to the front of the cafe. I know the layout of this place like the back of my hand now.
When I first opened the cafe almost five years ago, I tried to commit every inch of this place to memory, to hold on to the pride I felt when I made my dream a reality.
“So sorry about that, thanks for waiting,” I said in a muffled voice from behind the heavy bag. I turn around to set it down and relieve the ache in my arms.
“No problem, I'll just have an iced americano. And I’m in a bit of a hurry.” My customer says impatiently.
I spin around to type the order into the register.
“Of course! Is that all for you today?” I ask as my eyes finally work their way up to look at my first customer of the day.
“Jamie?” My green eyes meet piercing grey and I feel my insides turn to mush.
“Reggie?” I say like a question, even though I could recognize him by the way he breathes; I would know him by the sound of his rings clinking together and his shoes against the floor. I would know him anywhere, at any time, in any universe.
My heart clenches and I force myself to start speaking, but he beats me to it.
“Do you work here?” He asks awkwardly and looks around the cafe.
“Um, no, well yes, but I own it, this is my cafe.” I stammer out like a deer in headlights.
His perfect mouth falls open and I remember what it was like to kiss him, to dance with him, and to hear his laugh.
“Wow, you actually did it,” He says with an awe-filled expression.
“Yeah I guess I did,” a nervous chuckle escapes me. “It's nice to see you” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
“Look James, I just want to say I’m really so--”
“Please!” I cut her off. “This one’s on the house. You said an iced americano right?” I smash my fingers into the buttons of the espresso machine and sigh in relief as the sounds it makes fill the silence.
“James, I couldn’t possibly,” he reaches for his wallet in her expensive-looking probably-designer briefcase. I wonder if he made partner like he always said he would.
“Oh nonsense, I insist.” I scoop ice into the cup and pour in the shots.
“Okay James,” he concedes. I miss hearing him say my name.
I reach out to hand him the drink and our fingers brush. I quickly pull my hand away, ignoring the chills that racked my body. I meet his gaze again, and I can’t help but notice how sad he looks.
“Thank you,” he says, ignoring the wobble in his voice.
“No problem at all, I hope you like it,” I say quickly, trying not to cringe because of how pathetic I sound.
Regulus walks toward the door and stops with his hand on the door and I’m brought back to our kitchen all those years ago.
“Hey, Jamie? Can I ask you something?” His voice startles me out of my deja vu.
“Yeah Reg, of course.” I brace myself with anticipation.
“Are you happy?” He asks gently as he turns his head to search my eyes for answers.
The question hits me like an eighteen-wheeler.
“I think so, yeah,” I admit after a beat, searching his face for a reaction.
He nods curtly and smiles from the corner of his mouth. He turns around and pushes through the door with a strong stride.
I close my eyes as the echoes of the door chimes sing softly in his wake.
“I want to be happy, I'm ready,” I admit to myself with a smile, and I readjust my apron as the next customer walks in.
“Good morning! Welcome to La Petite Étoile, what can I get you to drink?”