Coffee & Tea

A Short Story

To fly away from home while dreaming of flying was as confusing as staring at a candle and attempting to predict which way the flame will bounce. As I moved high above the clouds somewhere over the Atlantic ocean, I felt as though I was leaving one future in exchange for another far more mundane option. However, what killed me about the reality that the turbulent airplane I sat in was taking me far away from where I longed to be was that I had no choice in the matter. I had existed briefly in a bubble free of time or reality and I had wanted nothing more than to remain trapped in the momentary pause which had been my trip to England. The irony of the moment in which I found myself staring out at the crimson sunset on the wing of the aircraft was that I was thinking only about the brown haired boy who had begged me to stay and my own cruel words to him. I had wanted to stay and I hoped with all of my heart that he knew how desperately I had tried to find a way to never leave his arms. I prayed that he understood the lies behind my harsh words and how no part of me had meant them. I had hurt him because it seemed to me like the only way to allow him to heal, and yet in my desperation to repair him, I felt as though I had no right to do so. But, as I looked towards the front of the plane where two pilots sat, my fate in their steady hands,  my mind showed me the pale blue eyes of my lover who waited for me in New York City. With this vision came a sting. I had hurt him too, though he remained oblivious to it.

I had first met Liam in the district court of New York City. I was running, no surprise there, and we had collided like two galaxies whose gravity forced them together. I sometimes wonder if we would have missed each other entirely had I been walking like an ordinary person. Instead, I lived with the vice of always rushing. I kept myself busy so not to go completely insane and a byproduct of this rushing was my chronic lateness. Thus, I ran everywhere. It is also true that clumsy girls shouldn’t run, but this clumsy girl lived in New York City and nobody was going to tell her to slow down. So, Liam and I found ourselves surrounded by flying papers, his expensive suitcase jumping open and spilling its contents all over the marble floor while my coffee painted his shirt a lovely shade of brown.

“I am so sorry,” I said, scrambling to pick up as many papers as I could. I heard him exhale in the way people do to replace laughter.

“And I am Liam,” he said. My head shot up. The first thing I noticed were his eyes; they were blue like the color of New York skies on a clear day. The second thing I noticed was his smile and the way his dimples dented his face like craters on the moon. The third thing I noticed was how he had the kind of face that could steal any girl’s heart. The fourth thing I noticed was the way his suit fit him perfectly, his thick red tie screaming professionality. 

“Luna,” I said after a moment of studying the Liam kneeling before me. He smirked and brought a white piece of paper to his eyes.

“Car collision,” he read. I reached for the paper and snatched it from him. Apparently, Liam with the charming blue eyes felt that it was okay to read my private document.

“That’s private,” I scolded, collecting the rest of my spilled papers.

“Actually, it’s not. It goes on the public record unless charges are dropped in which case it’s like it never happened. But you just have a habit of crashing into people don’t you.” There was that smirk again. He was too young to be a lawyer and yet he carried himself as if he owned the courthouse.

“Pre-law?” I asked, guessing he was no more than a couple years older than me.

“And business,” he added because god forbid his demeanor didn’t reveal that part already.

“I dislike lawyers.” I don’t know why I said it. Probably because I was having very mixed feelings about the nosey boy standing before me. I stuffed my papers in my purse, making sure to avoid eye contact. I was already late to my hearing.

“Well, fortunately for you, I’m not a lawyer yet,” he said with an overly conspicuous lip bite. I laughed. Who was this guy?

“I dislike lawyers because you’re smooth talkers, Just like that.” I said, not caring about my tone. This all seemed to amuse him. Maybe, my frustration was letting him win this little game we seemed to be playing. In retrospect, I should have left by now and I couldn’t quite understand why I hadn’t. He was irritating but beautiful, and this dichotomy was enough to make me stay and engage.

“Well what’s your dream, Luna?” He challenged.

“I’m pre-med. I’m going to save lives, not fill my pockets by exploiting the underprivileged.” I stood up and brushed off my pants. I decided that it would be my duty to help Liam’s poor soul by putting him in his place. What kind of person would I be if I let him go through life so utterly mistaken about his place in the world?

Liam looked at me, his eyes piercing me. Expressionless. I thought he might just fade away in that moment, let the cool air of the courtroom blow him away. He blinked twice and then broke out into incredibly loud laughter. I turned my head to examine the wide echoing hallway, hoping nobody could hear his embarrassing episode, but it seemed like everyone was a little too consumed with their own business to care about Liam’s obnoxious reaction to my comment.

“Luna, I hate to tell you this, but you have just become a victim of assumption. At least I can think critically,” he said. My face had a habit of turning red when I was bothered and so I was sure he could see my frustration. I wasn’t surprised that he had the audacity to claim that I was mistaken about him.

“If you think your corporate fantasies are noble, you’re sorely mistaken, Liam.”

He smiled.

“I’m an intern for the public defender’s office. I’m going to be a public defender, and I’m going to be a damn good one. I owe it to the people who are guaranteed my services by our beloved constitution to be the best I can be. Now, if I recall, the underprivileged individuals that I serve, are the very people who get screwed over by the corporate medical bureaucracy that you worship. You’re going to save the lives of those who can afford it. Now, where’s the nobility in that?”

 I should have been angry, but I wasn’t. I disliked lawyers because they had the audacity to say things like that. I disliked lawyers because they had the audacity to make everyone else so blaringly aware of the truth when it was the last thing any of us wanted. I disliked lawyers because I hated how shockingly grateful I was for his candor.

“Good talk,” I said and walked past him. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away. I imagined his smirk. I disliked lawyers because they loved nothing more than winning. I half expected him to demand the last word and shout something witty and semi-rude, but there was silence and perhaps it was this silence that made me want to turn around. In that moment, I hoped that my coffee had ruined his shirt forgood.

“Anything to drink?” asked the flight attendant to my right. She stood at one end of a cart, the overhead lights bouncing off her ginger hair to make her look like a perfectionist’s drawing.

“Coffee, please,” I said, looking away from her and towards the window to my left. I wondered if maybe I could make the plane turn around with nothing but my mind. I closed my eyes and listened for the hum of the flying machine that seemed to be deciding my destiny.

The flight attendant handed me a warm paper cup filled with brown liquid. I thanked her and moved the cup to my nose, smelling the steam that floated out of it, tainting the air with the signature smell of my caffeine addiction. Maybe my addiction was to blame for my cliche meet cute with Liam. Maybe it was the overcaffination that kept me always running. The cup found its way to my lips. I had a habit of burning my tongue because I never learned to be patient enough to let the coffee cool before downing it. However, in this instance what I needed most was to avoid sleep. I felt as though falling asleep might allow my thoughts to eat me alive.

My mind wandered back to Liam. The way I had walked into my comparative religion elective class a month later, just as the semester began, running of course.

“Nice of you to join us,” the professor had blurted out, interrupting himself. I looked up and, naturally, the greying man was staring straight at me. I hated drawing attention to myself like this. Especially now that the entire lecture hall had turned to look at me.

“I’m sorry, I was-

“Getting my textbook. It’s my fault,” said a deep voice. I turned to look at the blonde boy who had just covered for me and instinctively rolled my eyes. I’d be lying if I said a part of me wasn’t excited to see his irritating dimples again. However, I certainly didn’t need someone else saving my ass. Especially, not him. The professor looked from me to him to me and gave an audible sigh.

“Take a seat and stop interrupting my class,” he groaned and immediately began saying something about the evolution of buddhist ideals in modern western culture and how we’d spend the better portion of a month on this one topic. I walked over to Liam who was unsurprisingly seated in the front of the classroom. I decided to sit next to him in order to keep up the act of giving him his textbook and also because the familiar face vaguely comforted me. I guess one could say our second meeting was also a result of my constant rushing. Or maybe we have buddhist ideals in modern western culture to thank. I dislike lawyers because despite not wanting to, we need them, and sometimes they do know best. 

It was our meeting that served as a turning point in my life. I’ll never quite understand how he managed to get under my skin so easily and disarm the walls that I had spent years building for myself, but I couldn’t say I minded. He quickly caught onto my coffee addiction and began bringing me coffee to class. He’d find a way to sit next to me and he would make it glaringly obvious how hard he was willing to work for my phone number. I remember scribbling my digits on the side of his textbook and writing don’t call me. But he did call. 

Our first date took place in central park. We walked calmly along the wide paths as the frigid air threatened to bite me, our hands wrapped around hot chocolates that served as our only real source of warmth. I remember the long moments of silence that painted our conversation and how despite the cold air, I felt as though his presence was enough to burn me alive. It was the way my cheeks turned red with fire when I heard his voice that starkly opposed the cold I felt that day. My hands had a way of losing all feeling when he touched me and his confident presence covered me like a warm blanket. I couldn’t tell you what we talked about. I think perhaps it had something to do with our families, the way we shared this fear of loss. I think I liked the date because I felt so understood and yet so cold. Liam confused me from the start and it only made me want to know more about how odd he made me feel from the very moment we had met.

Before I knew it, he was calling me his girlfriend and I wasn’t objecting to it. It took me months to get used to the word because I had been so averse to it for so long. It felt as though he had found me in a fragile place when really I was the strongest I had ever been. Undeniably, the most important thing Liam did for me in those days was teach me to make New York my home. He spoke like a wall street businessman but carried himself like a little boy who marvelled at the fast pace of Manhattan’s streets. New York became our scene and our home together and I spent a year learning to love him, but also learning to love my life in the city until the two became synonymous. It was as if I had been walking a bit off rhythm until I met him. I no longer felt like the crowds passed me by, rather I felt like I walked within them, especially when my hand was tied with his.

I felt the plane shake beneath me which caused a bit of coffee to spill off the sides of my tiny paper cup. My hands shook in response to the turbulence. My hands never shake. Turbulence never bothers me. I dislike lawyers because they have a way of making me feel weak. The woman seated next to me must have been a couple decades older than me. She wore flattering rectangular classes and kept her jet black hair stick straight. She had been reading throughout the flight until she carefully folded one of the pages down to mark her place and set the book on her lap. She turned to see me watching her.

“What brings you to New York City?” She asked. I always wondered why people felt the need to engage with the person next to them on a plane. Maybe it was a natural response to the discomfort of sitting unnaturally close to a perfect stranger. In a way an airplane was the strangest social scenario one could concoct. A hundred strangers found themselves sharing a common goal of getting from point A to point B by trusting a pilot and copilot to get them there safely. We were all momentarily risking our lives to get to the same place for hundreds of different reasons. As a result we spent seven hours sharing an experience with people we have never met. 

To answer the woman’s question, I should have simply said I live there. Or perhaps I could have said something about my boyfriend waiting for me at the airport. I could have mentioned the tremendous job offer I had received from New York Presbyterian hospital to work as a paid research assistant before medical school. The truth is, I could have told her any number of things about my life in New York City which seemed to be growing increasingly permanent.

“I don’t know,” was the only thing I could bring myself to say. Nobody had ever asked me why I was living the way I was, it had just seemed to me that the choices I had made beginning with going to Barnard College out of high school had lead me to where I was. It was as if I had jumped off some enormous height by moving to New York City and I had been falling ever since. Falling asleep to the sound of cars honking outside my dorm room window. Falling in love with Liam. Falling on the floor every time I ran a little too fast. And everything around me was falling into place too. It was as if as I fell, I could see the ground getting closer and closer and I had accepted that it was simply too late to change where I would inevitably land. I had told her I don’t know because I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud because that’s where my future is. I wasn’t sure if that’s where I wanted my future to be.

I knew what had brought me to London, but I didn’t know what was bringing me back home. I drifted to my first day in London. I remember stepping off the plane and breathing in the stormy air with a sense of release. I was to spend two weeks here completely on my own and it seemed to me a liberating prospect, though at the time, I wasn’t yet aware of just how truly liberating it would be. The first thing I had noticed was the accent of the robotic voice warning me to be careful on the moving walkway in the airport. I distinctly recall the permanent smile which was glued to my face as I made my way through customs and finally got a car from the airport to my hotel. I had arrived to London in the morning and had spent much of my first day, inquiring about the best local spots. I had promised myself I wouldn’t succumb to classic tourism and instead allow myself to enjoy a local lifestyle as much as an American girl possibly could for two weeks. However, my trip didn’t feel like it had actually begun until my fourth day there. 

My first three days in England had gone as one would expect. A tour on one of those big red buses and a trip to the British museum where I realized that the Rosetta stone is way smaller than people think it is. I’d always loved the Rosetta stone or rather what it stood for. It had been a rock that some construction worker had almost discarded until someone else realized that this one rock held the key to understanding an entire written language which had been dead for centuries. Bless the soul who had the presence of mind to see something special in this small rock and prevent it from being destroyed. Thanks to the writing on the stone, linguists were able to learn to read hieroglyphics and thus uncover all sorts of hidden truths about Ancient Egypt. I always figured I’d be the kind of person to accidentally throw it out although I hoped that wasn’t true. Maybe the answers we so desperately need are right in front of us, but we’re so caught up in our routine to stop and notice them. Unfortunately, it seemed to me that the story of the Rosetta stone was more often the exception than the rule. One small rock held the key to understanding an entire civilization. 

I expected the rest of my visit to go as planned: tourist attractions and local restaurants. But it didn’t. In fact, nothing went as planned. On my fourth night in London I found myself at a local pub. The hotel receptionist had mentioned it and so had some other locals when I asked about unknown bars. I wasn’t the kind of girl who went to bars, and yet I wanted to go to this one and so I did.

I walked through the wooden doors to the pub and soaked in the chatter of voices that were just loud enough to drown out my urge to turn around. My eyes were immediately drawn to the photographs of large dogs hung up all over the place. German shepherds, huskies, labradors, golden retrievers and muts covered the walls. I was strangely comforted by the fact that everyone here seemed to be with friends. The air was tainted with laughter and the dim lighting established intimacy. I made my way towards the bar counter and took a seat on one of the stools. 

“What can I get ya?” asked the bartender. She had a shot glass in one hand which she was rubbing dry with a towel in her other hand. She smiled when she asked the question as if she had been directed to do so, but behind her teeth  I saw annoyance.

“Um well,”

“You’re a tourist aren’t ya,” she said, rolling her eyes. Maybe I had made a mistake in coming here. It seemed like there was some unspoken contract between these walls and those who sat within them that I had somehow breached by coming here instead of some pub designed for people like me. I was clearly an outsider.

“Oh just let the girl think,” I heard someone sitting at the bar say. I turned to see a college aged girl with dyed red hair and a prominent golden hoop in her nose. Her eyes were green which made her look like the little mermaid. I would have normally found her choice of hair dye and body piercing to be unattractive if it weren't for how beautifully defined her facial features were. Her tiny nose came perfectly to a round point in the center of her face and her smile revealed her perfectly even teeth. She was the model of symmetry and her long dark eyelashes covered her almond shaped eyes and everything about her appeared delicate. I wondered if maybe her bold choices were to make herself look less like a porcelain doll and more like a force to be reckoned with. Either way, I was immediately drawn to her presence.

“I don’t like tourists,” groaned the bartender before walking away and engaging with someone else. 

“Is it that obvious that I don’t fit in?” I asked the redhead. She gave a soft laugh and ran a hand through her long red hair that seemed to give a bounce as she stood up and moved to sit beside me.

“Nah you fit in just fine. We just aren’t used to seeing any new people around here. It’s just the same lot of us pretty much everyday.” I could tell she was studying my face as she spoke. Something about me seemed to amuse her. 

“I’m Liza,” she added “which is short for Elizabeth which is the most overused name in this whole damn country,” she exclaimed. I noticed that she was using her hands a lot when she spoke. She gave an exhale and then laughed at her own rant. I joined her in laughing.

“I’m Luna the tourist,” I joked.

“Liza and Luna. Now that has a nice ring to it. I think we’re destined to be friends,” she said in the sing songy way she seemed to say everything. Even her voice was perfect.

“Where are you from, Luna?” she asked.

“New York City,” I answered. She frowned as if my response wasn’t satisfactory.

“But nobody’s really from New York City, right? It’s kind of just a place people move to or go to pretend magic is real, right?”

I laughed. She had a point. New York City had only recently begun to feel like home to me. A year ago, I may have answered her question differently.

“I moved to New York for college from a small town in Connecticut, but it’s where I live now, so it’s just as good an answer as any,” I countered. She nodded her head and proceeded to order two beers from the grumpy bartender without even asking if it’s what I wanted. 

Liza and I spent an hour chatting. I learned that she went to university in a small school in London near where she had lived most of her life. She was a product of public school and the only child of two workaholics. She had an obsession with birds, which she claimed was a result of a very colorful dream she once had, and she read books religiously. The pub we sat in was her nightly routine before meeting up with friends who she referred to as her real family. In all her relentless talking, she seemed genuinely curious about me. Normally, I would have been too caught up in wondering why I mattered so much to someone who seemed far more fun to be around than myself, but she radiated energy which gave me the confidence to simply speak and not think. I told her about attending Barnard College and my dreams of becoming an international pediatrician. I told her about how I had chosen Barnard because I had wanted nothing more than to escape the seclusion of my small town. I showed her photos of Liam and talked about our plans to move in together once I started my job at New York Presbyterian Hospital after graduation. As an hour rolled by, I was astounded by how interested she seemed and how closely she seemed to want to listen. It had been a long time since someone had seemed so genuinely interested in my cookie cutter life story.

“Well, it’s just about time for us to go meet up with the others,” she said looking down at her phone which read 00:00. 

“Us?”

“Yes. You expect me to leave you here alone? We’re friends now, so you’re coming with me. Is that alright with you?” She had this way of just making me want to agree with everything she said. I wondered if maybe she was a siren, designed to make me follow her to the ends of the Earth which I thought my very tipsy self just might do tonight.

We left the pub and I followed her to several blocks down the dark city streets. We made turn after turn until I was sure Liza was my only hope of ever getting back to my hotel. We walked until the concrete walls surrounding us were replaced by miles of greenery.

“Welcome to Hyde park,” she said as we made our way through some trees when suddenly I heard a loud bird call come from in front of us. It began as just one but the voices multiplied until it sounded like many birds calling out to us. I turned to look at Liza just as she cupped her hands around her mouth and echoed their calls. Her response to what I had figured were human voices was followed by laughter. I walked silently and curiously. Liza pushed back several branches to reveal a small area of grass right next to a body of water and below a bridge. There was a tent set up and blankets sprawled outside of the tent. Before us sat three strangers. They all stood when they saw Liza appear from behind the trees.

“Hey fam!” Liza exclaimed as she walked towards the group of young adults, kissing them on the cheek one by one. I stayed put, a bit shy about how to approach. I never did well in these kinds of settings where I was the only one who didn’t know the entire group. It reminded me of the awkward high school parties I spent alone in a corner because I had only known the one person who invited me and nobody else. 

“The pilot has turned the seat belt light on, we’d like to remind everyone to please stay in their seats as we are experiencing some turbulence. We are about three hours away from JFK airport. Again, please do not move about the cabin until the seatbelt sign is turned off. Thank you.”

I pushed up the white plastic covering the window to my left and looked out at the infinite mountains of clouds. I saw a large cloud that reminded me of a rose. I thought our ability to create shapes out of clouds was quite remarkable and I fixed my eyes on the flower cloud in the distance. When I was a little girl I imagined heaven looked the same as flying over clouds. How colorless heaven must be. As beautiful as my view was, it was the kind of beauty that lost its wonder if it became anything other than incredibly temporary. I think I’d go quite crazy if white fluffy clouds were my only view for the rest of eternity. Like being trapped in an asylum. But then I wondered if anything had the potential to become mundane if given regularity. 

The raven haired woman sitting beside me stood up and headed towards the on board bathroom. It seemed like an unspoken rule that the seatbelt signs went completely disregarded on airplanes. How likely was it that in this very moment, we might plumet to our death? Was it really that much more likely than it had been ten minutes ago? 

The night I met Robert was covered in clouds. Not a star in sight, just light from the moon projecting onto the clouds, creating the illusion of a pale night. It was similar to the way his grey eyes made him look like a shrine to the moon. And yet the cold color scheme of the sky contrasted the warmth of the summer night when I found myself drinking with Liza’s friends. They had been eager to get to know me, the same way Liza had been. They dug for every bit of information they wanted and I willingly gave it up because I wanted nothing more than to grow closer to them. The group consisted of Amelia, Mitchum, and Robert. Amelia, Mitchum, and Liza had all met in their first year of University and had remained inseparable since. They had a special bottle of vodka that the group only drank from when they were introduced to a new face. All of them had the authority to bring a new person into the group, but somehow with all of the temporary visitors to their ritualistic Hyde park meetups in the early hours of the morning, only one person had ever permanently joined the group and that was Robert. So we drank from the bottle and they laughed with every disgusted expression I adopted every time I took a swig.

“Luna’s got a problem,” Liza said to the others once I finished answering many of the same questions Liza had asked me back at the bar.

“Indeed she has,” said Amelia, the most adorable curly blonde twenty-something year old I had ever met. Her chocolate eyes met Liza’s in mutual understanding.
“What’s this problem?” asked Mitchum. Robert said nothing. Instead, he leaned back on his elbows, legs extended outwards. In fact, he had barely said anything all night. He had just sort of looked at me and let others do the talking. It occured to me that I had done most of the talking that night because I seemed to be the most interesting topic of conversation as we all sat on a picnic blanket in a circle facing one another.

“Luna’s life sounds too perfect. She’s either hiding a fatal flaw or she’s dreadfully unaware of it,” Liza explained to the group. I laughed. I laughed because I was drunk.

“I’m right here you know,” I said, turning to face Liza. She smiled and put a hand on my shoulder.

“My guess is the latter,” said Amelia, tucking her bangs behind her right ear. 

“Agreed,” said Mitchum.

“My life is just fine, thank you very much,” I protested, stumbling over my own words. They all laughed at my inability to handle my liquor.

“Luna, you don’t strike me as a liar. There’s enough alcohol in you to know that much. I think you’re right, Amelia,” concluded Liza. 

The night ended with me falling asleep on the picnic blanket to the sound of the group discussing the merits of modern refugee policies and the evolution of immigration. I was eventually woken up and Liza was able to get my drunk self to recite the name of the hotel where I was staying. The group called me a taxi and I managed to make my way to my hotel room by myself.

I woke up the next morning still fully clothed and sprawled on my bed over the covers. It took me ten minutes to review what had happened the previous night. My conclusion was that it had been fun and wildly uncharacteristic of me. I reached into my pocket to fish out my phone in order to check the time and instead my fingers closed around a piece of paper. I pulled it out of my pocket to find a phone number written on it in black ink. Below the phone number, there were words.

To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a heaven in a wild flower,

To hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And Eternity in an hour.

I laughed remembering the way those words had made me feel and the dark haired woman sitting next to me turned to look in my direction. I had a way of laughing at my own thoughts before I even knew any noise was escaping my mouth. I felt as though I sometimes lived too comfortably in my own mind. I don’t know if I could call that living. At least in the isolation of a seven hour flight, I was given no choice but to remember the intrigue which surrounded the note I had found in my pocket. I looked at it now, the ink a bit smudged from living in my purse for two weeks. The handwriting on this small piece of paper had come to feel so familiar now. 

“Can I take your trash?” asked the same ginger flight attendant who had served me coffee an hour ago. I looked from the paper to the trash bag she held in front of her but couldn’t bring myself to throw it out no matter how badly I wanted to get rid of everything I had left from this trip. I wanted to destroy anything that could remind me of the jittery excitement I had felt in moments like the one when I had first read the poem. But, all I could do was grab the piece of paper and shove it back in my pocket. I handed the flight attendant my empty coffee cup and lifted my tray table.

It’s probably Liza’s number and her odd way of telling me to call her, I remember thinking. Regardless, I knew she’d be at the pub tonight because, according to her, it’s where she was every night, so finding her wouldn’t be much of an issue. After showering, changing, and downing advil, I reached for my phone and dialed.

I waited as the phone rang several times until I heard a deep and unfamiliar voice on the other line.

“Hello?” The voice said.

“Liza?” I asked. It was a stupid question because I knew it wasn’t her.

“No. Luna? This is Robert,” he said. What followed was confusion. He had barely spoken two words to me last night, so why had he left his phone number in my pocket? And why did he scribble a poem there along with it?

“Robert. Hi. I...uh...found your note.” I couldn’t think of anything better to say.

“Yes, I figured. Forgive me for being cryptic. I was afraid you wouldn’t call if I had written my name on it. Listen, I was wondering if you’d like to get some tea this afternoon,” he said. It was hard to read his voice over the phone, but then again, I hadn’t ever really heard his voice in person either.

“I’m more of a coffee girl,” I responded. I heard him laugh on the other end.

“I’ll send you the address. Meet there in an hour?”

“I have a boyfriend.” It’s what I was supposed to say.

“Who said this was a date?” He responded. In that moment I was glad this conversation was occuring over the phone because my cheeks flushed with red. 

“I’m joking. We’ll make it an acquaintance thing. There’s no crime in talking. Plus, I’m doing you a service by switching you to tea, so just take a deep breath and say you’ll get tea with me in an hour. Don’t you want to know what the poem means?” He said. He sounded like he was smiling.

“I know William Blake,” I responded, referencing the poem he had written on the note.

“Perfect. Then we’ll have something to talk about over tea. Romantic poetry it is.”

I agreed to go with him mostly because I was intrigued. The past day or so of my life had been so unusual that I wasn’t eager to put an end to it. I had felt so appreciated in the presence of Amelia and Liza that it only seemed natural to accept an innocent invitation from someone they loved. I had come here alone, so for the next week, these strangers would be my closest friends. I found myself craving the mild discomfort and unfamiliarity of the moments which filled the rest of my time in London.

He was punctual and I was late, but that’s the way things tended to go. We sat by a window and drank steaming tea out of ceramic tea cups and ate cookies. The conversation began slowly. He already knew quite a bit about me from the previous night’s interrogation from the group, but I knew nothing about him. He leaned back in his chair the same way he had leaned back on the grass as if he belonged. The brown curly mess of his hair made him look more relaxed and comfortable in his own skin. I noticed the way his glasses reflected the sunlight that poured in from the window to his left and to my right. The same sunlight that cast a flattering shadow over half of his face. He was wearing a tight white button down shirt and jeans which created the illusion that perhaps he was a little more put together than his original appearance might suggest. I noticed he wore a watch on his left wrist, but didn’t look at it once.

“Luna. It means moon,” he said, lifting the tea cup off of the table and bringing it to his lips. I watched him take a sip and put it back down. What an odd way to structure a question.

“Yes well I’m the daughter of astronomers.”

“Now that’s just perfect,” he said. I wanted to say something about the perfection of his moon colored eyes, but I stopped myself.  

“What do you study?” I asked him, changing the topic. I loved my parents, but I didn’t want to talk about them. He bit his lip which was something I had noticed him do once or twice before. The side of his lips curved into a smile a second later.

“Philosophy and physics. I don’t go to Uni with the rest of them,” he said. I wondered how he expected me to react to his answer. I wondered if he was used to people reacting a certain way and that was why he had hesitated a moment before saying anything. 

“And why is that?”

“Because philosophy asks the big questions and physics answers them. What more could you want to learn than how it all works?”

“But we’ll never really know how everything works. Don’t you ever feel like you’re just wasting time? Like slaying a hydra,” I said. His eyes shot up from his hands where he had been looking. He smiled again when they met mine.

“So she likes romantic poets, medicine, and greek mythology,” he said, teasing. I couldn’t remember telling him about my pre-med studies, but I guess I must have mentioned it to the group last night.

“Don’t limit me to my interests. I’m a lot deeper than you might think,” I joked.

“I don’t doubt it.” The way he said it was far more serious than I had expected. It was so different from the way Liam always made fun of me for the way I obsessed over my passions.

“I think physics and philosophy work exactly like slaying a hydra: solve one question and you’ve just created two more. But, just because we’ll never know everything, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t damn well try our hardest. I think it’s alright if we fool ourselves into thinking we can do it,” he added. He ran a hand through his curls which immediately resumed their place as if they knew their formation by heart.

“Well, then again, it’s comforting to think about all of the things we don’t know. It inspires everything else. We can imagine only if we don’t know.” I added. With that, Robert removed his glasses and placed them on the table. He proceeded to rub his eyes a few times and then put his glasses back on.

“I’d like to take you on a walk, Luna.”

In retrospect, this is where I should have ended it. I was engrossed by our momentary discussion of things I hadn’t been able to talk about with anyone for a long time. However, I hadn’t gone to London to meet a boy who would change my life; I had gone to London for myself because I had to. But walking was harmless, just as talking was.

“Ladies and gentlemen we will soon be beginning our initial descent into New York City,” the pilot’s voice blared overhead. I took another look out my window and saw the ocean passing miles below me. It reminded me of the water that hit the side of the bridge on my walk with Robert.

“What brings you to London?” Robert asked as we walked slowly along the edge of the bridge. I reached my hand out towards the railing and let my hand drag against it as we continued forward. I could feel my straight brown ponytail bouncing on the back of my head as I walked. 

“I needed to say goodbye,” I said. I hadn’t been able to verbalize my reasoning to Liam when he had asked. I didn’t know what to say or how to explain that I was a magnet being pulled across the ocean to a different island than the one where I lived. Liam had gotten frustrated when I kept repeating the words I just do. It’s only two weeks, which had lead to a disagreement. Liam and I had a way of aggressively avoiding conflict and instead engaging in a mutual understanding that everything was not ok. I don’t think he was upset that I was leaving on my own for two weeks, but that I didn’t know how to tell him why I was leaving on my own for two weeks. I was upset that I couldn’t bring myself to give him a suitable explanation.

“What do you need to say goodbye to?” Robert asked. I suddenly felt the incessant need to be completely honest with him. After all, he was as a good as a stranger to me and I would likely never see him again. I had nothing to lose by telling him what I wished I had the guts to admit to myself. It was as if by simply asking, he had opened the floodgates. I took a deep breath so not to drown him with the truth. I’d let it rain down slowly. Maybe that way I could make sense of things.

“I got an internship in Lyon, France with doctors without borders. I’m a double major in pre-med and French.” I had never said those words out loud. Of course, I had heard someone else say it to me in perfect French over the phone several months ago and I’d seen the evidence written on a work contract, but I had never said the words myself. It pained me to give them life the way I just had.

“That’s fantastic,” Robert said, turning his head to look at me. I only needed to look at his eyes to see how much he was smiling.

“Yes it really is. I’d be working alongside coordinators, making sure the programs ran smoothly. Unpaid, of course, but I’d have direct contact with the pediatric specialists and get to travel sometimes too. I’d be based in Lyon, though. And, I’d do it all in French,” I blabbered. I didn’t think Robert really cared about the specifics of an internship I’d never actually do, but it suddenly became comforting for me to know that this stranger knew the truth about what had been weighing on my mind. The words burned my lips as they escaped my mouth, but the fact that Robert was hearing them felt like soothing ice water on my lips.

“That’s all well and good, but I don’t quite understand how that answers my question,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as we continued to walk along the seemingly endless bridge. I took my hand off of the railing and rubbed the back of my neck. I thought about how many bacteria must have been on the railing. I laughed when I caught myself thinking like a biology student and not like a pedestrian.

“I turned it down,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him when I said it. The whole idea of telling him was that his judgment meant nothing to me. If anything, this conversation would only exist in the moment and that was it. So why was it so hard for me to face his stormy grey eyes as I revealed that my foolish dream of moving to France to pursue this path was just that: a dream.

He was silent. I continued.

“I came to say goodbye to a foolish fantasy. I’ve accepted a great job in New York City, but I needed to come see for myself what I’d be leaving behind. I just thought going to France for two weeks would hurt too much and the only other European language I speak is English, so here I am,” I said quietly. I suddenly became aware of how soft the fabric of my dress felt as it touched my thighs. It was a red dress I had bought at the beginning of spring when the excitement of warm weather had begun to infect me.

“So you’ve come to London to say goodbye to France because you’re going to stay in New York?” I laughed as he said it. I must have sounded ridiculous. He didn’t look as confused as he did distraught.

“I guess so,” I responded. He took his right hand out of his pocket and ruffled his curly hair while he looked up at the pale blue sky. He turned back to face me.

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

“I’m telling you the truth,” I laughed.

“I know. But I don’t think that’s why you’re here. It just doesn’t sound like you,” he said as if he were attempting to study me.

“You barely know me. Actually, you don’t know me at all.”

“I don’t need to, Luna. All I need to know is the way your eyes lit up when you told me about that internship. I know that you like romantic poetry, medicine, and greek myths, among many other things which means you love stories. I know that nobody finds passion in stories and is named after the moon unless they are desperate for meaning. And, I know the way you say New York has no meaning,” he said calmly with the kind of voice that angered me simply because it seemed to make so much sense. 

I stopped in my tracks. I hadn’t asked for his opinion. I hadn’t given him permission to push past my walls. I felt my face turn red. 

“I have a very good life in New York, thank you very much. I just graduated from a prestigious college summa cum laude with a wonderful work opportunity lined up for me at the city’s best hospital. I have a wonderful boyfriend who I’ll be moving in with and a bright future. I’m happy and there’s meaning in that!” I said a bit too loudly. I’d never been the type of girl to make a scene and I couldn’t understand why the calming presence of the boy standing before me was now so infuriating.

“Who are you trying to convince?” He asked and the words all but broke me. My frown shifted to neutrality and I found myself calm again. I stared at him, blinking as if my fluttering eyelashes might freeze time.

“My watch broke six months ago. I still use it because what good is time, if it doesn’t really exist? The light from the sun hits us eight minutes after it’s actually emitted and the next closest star is only a vision of how it looked four years ago. We value time and yet we exist with so little of it, and there’s people like you who insist on wasting it. The only time I need is the time I’m in now. The time it took you to say those words was time you should have spent believing them, but you don’t because you came to London not to say goodbye, but to find just one reason to stay,” he spoke softly.

I turned and began walking away from him much more quickly than we had been walking before. I didn’t care if he followed me or if he even cared enough to see that he had just stabbed me with his knife. I didn’t care if he could see that somehow I was bleeding from my chest and all I wanted was to turn away and look at the view the way I had my whole life. 

“Luna! I’m sorry!” I heard him call from behind me. He sounded as though he was running to catch up. I remembered Liam as I walked, the way I hadn’t told him about my application to the internship in France. I thought about the way meeting him had been what had allowed me to feel comfortable in the city. I remembered the way I shoved away my doubts about the life we had planned together because it seemed easier to simply continue riding the momentum we had worked together to create from the moment we first kissed than to accelerate in a different direction. I loved beginnings, but I had no way of handling endings, a result of a life plagued by endings, and it seemed to me that my best strategy had always been to simply avoid them. Liam had given me comfort in the city, but in the process he had made me feel incomplete anywhere else and I knew some part of me resented him for it. It felt to me as though the life I had chosen to commit to in Manhattan had forced me to sacrifice my wings, and I had come to London to remember how to fly.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my place.” Robert’s voice sounded much closer now. I wanted to ignore him and keep walking, but the damage had not been done, so I whipped around to face him.

“I was so excited about the future, about medical school, about making a real difference in the world. New York was my temporary stop on the way to my future and then one day I found a reason to stay put. I’ve found a relationship that really matters. I’ve spent my whole life desperate to run away and now I’m scared of leaving!” I shouted at him.

“That’s okay.”
“No it’s not okay! Because I’m more scared of starting over and admitting that I got it wrong than I am of staying somewhere I know I don’t want to be!” I felt a tear make its way down my left cheek. What on Earth had come over me? I was being crazy. Absolutely insane. I was shouting at Robert for no conceivable reason. He had every right to walk away. He didn’t need this, not from me or from anyone. Instead, he took a step forward and put his hand on my arm.

“Everything in the universe moves. Planets, stars, galaxies. Always. Nothing is static. It’s the one thing we know to be true.” He took a deep breath and wiped away my single tear. “And when something stays still,” he said, pointing to his broken watch, “it’s because something else has stopped it from working the way it was made to.”

I closed my eyes just as the plane hit the runway. An object in motion will stay in motion and an object at rest will stay at rest unless acted on by an external force. I had been an object in motion until the day Liam crashed into me, his force strong enough to put me at rest as my coffee stained his shirt in the New York District Courthouse. I had been a slave to inertia ever since, staying put in New York because no force had been strong enough to launch me back into motion. So here I found myself, stepping off the plane in New York City because it’s what I was supposed to do. I wandered down a series of hallways, following signs for customs and eventually making my way to the US Citizens line. I felt the nerves of the moment fill me from the feet up, creeping like spiders. A welcome video played overhead where a smiling actor went on about the rules of airport customs. Welcome home, the man in the video said.

I remembered the way Robert kissed me under the stars that dotted the sky that night. I remember the way we had found ourselves pulled towards one another as we danced around his room like binary stars. I remember the way he undressed me slowly as if to be careful not to miss an inch of skin as he scanned me with his eyes. I remember the way his fingers traced my body as if to map out constellations. In this silent moment, I remembered feeling powerful. I felt as radiant as the moonlight that poured into his bedroom and filled us with desire. I ran my hands through his hair and let my fingers make their way down his back. Everything moved slowly as if time had left us. Together, we were a supernova.

I remembered waking up in his arms the next morning and feeling unable to do anything but look at him. He woke only minutes after me, as if my silent glance had gently pulled him out of sleep. 

“I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees,” he whispered. His soft smile warmed me.

“Pablo Neruda,” I said.

“What do you want more than anything?” His arm was still wrapped around my torso, my body still pressed against his beating chest.

“To exist, and to not feel like I’m waiting for something greater.”

That night I met Liza for drinks and told her what had happened. I could see on her face that she didn’t know what to think. She stayed silent, carefully choosing her next words. I figured she must have known that I knew less about myself in this moment than ever before.

“I don’t think Robert could ever love anyone,” was all she said.

The rest of my time in London was spent walking quietly beside Robert. He took me to the tower of London and told me ghost stories. He took me to the rooftops and showed me how his eyes revealed to him an intricate universe that I would never begin to understand. I enjoyed watching him muse about the most random things. On my last night in England, he reached for my hand.

“All of it began as a singularity small enough to fit in the palm of your hand,” he said, drawing a circle in my palm. I think Liza had been right. Robert loved to wonder, we had that in common. He craved answers, we shared that too. I think he had been trying to tell me that something so small could change everything. But I knew that already.

I stood there watching the luggage travel in a circle on the baggage claim conveyor. I watched for my bag and was struck by the feeling that I hoped my bag would never come. I imagined Liam waiting for me somewhere in the airport. He was counting on me to grab my bag and he was counting on me to walk out those double doors and into his arms any minute now. I stood silently until the purple suitcase appeared. I grabbed it and placed it on the floor beside me. As a little girl, taking the bag off the conveyor by myself had made me feel so strong. Now, all it made me feel was powerless. 

Robert’s final words to me echoed in my mind.

“Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“Don’t you want to stay?”

I did want to stay. I wanted to stay more than anything. I wanted to live in his stories and drink tea along the river. I wanted to hear his breath beside me as we shared a night walking silently down city streets. I wanted him to know that I would always long for him when I closed my eyes and yet I couldn’t say any of this to him. I met his stare and was burned by the honesty with which he looked at me in that last moment. His eyes turned blue. Maybe they had always been blue.

“No,” I lied, “I don’t want you. I don’t want this. This was wrong. You know this was wrong. I can’t stay for you, I won’t.” I did my best to sound firm in my words, but they were built on a foundation of dust and I hoped that he could believe me no matter how deeply I knew that I was lying to him.

“You will never be satisfied. I don’t know why you’re so addicted to pain,” he said. I knew I was hurting him. I prayed that it was the kind of pain he needed in order to forget me.

“That may be true. But this isn’t real. I need to wake up and go home. I can’t keep dreaming.”

“You’re wrong.”

I don’t know if Robert had changed me or if he had stepped in at the right place at the right time. I didn’t care because Robert had become a manifestation of the freedom I craved.

“You’re not always right, Robert,” I said. His look said it all. He looked at me as if to beg me to put away this facade. He was clawing at me with his eyes, desperate to find the truth which I had hidden inside of me. Part of him must have known that I was lying. It was like he couldn’t find the words he needed to break down this act and so he tore past my walls trying to understand. He was trained in solving complex problems and I knew he must have been unfamiliar with feeling so puzzled.

“You’re right,” he said, “I was wrong about you.”

As I approached the double doors that would lead me to where Liam was waiting, I froze. My mind felt like a meteor shower, clear with light, but tormented. I took a deep breath and followed the crowd of people out into the waiting area. It took me a second to spot Liam. He wore a suit, probably because he had come here from work. His hands were in his pockets, but they extended when he saw me. I approached him slowly, unsure of what my next move would be.

“Welcome home baby,” he said, following it with that charming smile. Calling this home had come to feel so wrong. I stayed silent. I knew my face must have been painted by the torn feeling inside my chest. I met his eyes for only a second and then turned to look down at my wrists, wishing I had a watch on. I didn’t know what time it was, but I didn’t care. I felt his eyes on me. I felt his smile fade to confusion. He put a hand under my chin and lifted my face up to be level with his.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. He always knew when something was wrong. He could read me like nobody else had ever been able to.

“I have held infinity in the palm of my hand,” I said, looking down at the spot where Robert had drawn a circle with his finger, “I’ve felt eternity in an hour,” I said, remembering the way my night with Robert had felt timeless, “and none of it was with you,” I said.

Liam’s mouth opened in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, anger staining his voice.

“You’ve never seen heaven the way I have. When you see flowers that’s all they are. Oh Liam, you never touched me like a cherry tree in the springtime. And your world, your world is too large to exist in a grain of sand. We’ve always been just a little bit off. I love you, but I have to go,” I spoke softly.

“Luna, stop this. You’re not making any sense to me right now.” I could hear the panic rising in his voice. I smiled. It’s all that was left to do.

“That’s the problem.” I leaned in, rising up on my toes to kiss him. He put his arms on my lower back, pressing as if to keep me from ever leaving. His lips were dry. His kiss felt distant and yet so familiar. I pulled away from him slowly, his lips begging me to stay.

“It’s not your fault, I just can’t live for you anymore.” I meant it, “goodbye Liam.”

I turned and left. I couldn’t bare to look at him for one more second. I hoped that in seeing me walk away, he’d come to realize what I had just done. I hoped that in walking away as quickly as possible, I might do the same.

I walked quickly, suddenly overcome by clarity. I made my way to an airline counter where a beautifully made up woman stood, punching information into a computer. There was a relatively short line, but nothing had ever felt longer. My thoughts were racing. I thought about Robert and how desperately I wanted to see him. I thought about how thanks to me, we were an ocean apart. I thought about the girl who had first moved to New York to study pre-med and French. I thought about the girl who had now made the split second decision to take control. I moved my way up the line thinking about the people in front of me. I wondered if any of them were living as presently as I was in this very moment. When the woman behind the counter finally gestured to me, I ran to her.

“How may I help you today?”

“I’d like to buy a plane ticket.”

“Where to?”

Where to? London, I wanted to say. I wished I could tell her every reason why I had turned around. I wish I could explain to her that everything was starting to make sense. I wish I could cry out the truth about why I needed to leave this beautiful city and find myself somewhere else. She blinked her long made up eyelashes, waiting for my response.

“Lyon,” I said, “France.”

“There’s a flight to Lyon that leaves in two hours. You might make it.”

The lady sold me a ticket and I made my way back through security the same way I had in London not ten hours earlier. I hurried to my gate, filling with laughter as I ran. It all happened so quickly and yet I felt as though every move I made was intricately thought through. I had never felt more capable than in that moment. 

As I boarded the plane, I thought about what I’d do once I arrived to France.

I’d like some tea, I thought. Tea would be nice.