Tea Leaves

She slowly stirred her tea, I remembered she never drank coffee.
She looked up, a small smile playing across her face, making her look younger. Like the day I met her.
"I guess you didn't expect to hear from me again."
It had been years since we last spoke, lovers parted on the road of life, each of us going our own way. It had been her choice, but I always understood.
In that instance, I remembered all the nights we had lit with passion, and the lazy Sunday mornings, talking and loving together. I remembered those mornings best, when we had no where to be, and time was ours. She had been my mate, my perfect partner.
"I was surprised you remembered me."
"I can never forget." She looked up at me with frank, honest eyes. "I've changed. I'm not the girl I once was.

Eighteen years old and eager to love." She laughed softly. That laugh will haunt me all my years, but it is a welcome ghost.
Her body was different. Age had been kind, but she wasn't the slim, tanned teen wearing hip hugging jeans anymore.
I had changed too. Exercise had kept me fit, but time had stolen from me also.
The real differences though, were inside. So much had happened to each of us. So much it would take a life time to tell it all. I had always told her she had forever. Forever wasn't so long today.
"I'm not the same either."
  We shared a smile. In that moment, our lives were complete. It was almost as if our paths had not parted, and we both stood in a glade together, a crystal moment shared.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. My heart swelled, and I knew she was everything, this girl, who was now a woman.
The words she whispered sang through my heart.
"I still love you."
She looked down, tears dropping onto the table, a few into her tea. I answered her the only way I could.
"I have always loved you."
The way she gazed at me, tears tracking down her cheeks...I thought my heart was breaking.
Silence settled between us, comfortable as it had been almost a decade ago. At last, I knew I must ask her for the one thing I had been longing for the last ten years.
"Can I hold you?"
She nodded, words seeming to catch in her throat.
We stood, and I don't recall the movement, but she was in my arms, soft and sweet. I remembered her scent through all the years. We were both shaking, and I knew her heart beat as well as my own.
Finally she leaned back a little, and I let her go.
"I just wanted to say I missed you still. But, nothing's changed, has it?" Her smile was small and sad, telling me she already knew the truth.
"No, nothing has changed."
She raised her tear drop tea. "To old friends."
I raised my cup, and we drank.
I thought my heart would shatter. For the second time in my life, I was telling her goodbye, and I did not know if we would meet again.
Her parting words made me smile, reminding me of all her mischief. But I could not laugh.
My heart heavy, I climbed in my car, and drove away from her, remembering to stop at the store and pick up the fabric softener for my wife.
                                          ~~

I lay in bed that night, eyes open, listening to the even breathing of my wife. She was a good woman, deserved to be loved completely. Better than I loved her. For years, I had thought I was giving her that. Until we had fought, and I had found someone who's existence had demanded all the love I had.
Now I was enduring another sleepless night. I remembered all the nights I used to have, dreaming of her snuggled up beside me, the nights her absence had caused me to long for her. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. At first, I had them every night, but, gradually they had stopped. The sharpness of my loss had dulled.
Sometimes a song would play on the radio, a song that brought the loss back, just as bright. There were so many songs, and we had found a personal meaning to them. Our entire relationship could have been made into a song: strong, sweet and tart at once. It seemed like the world revolved around us.
My wife stirred, and I turned my head to gaze at her. She was elegant; beautiful through much care and grooming.
But I couldn't help comparing her to the vibrant woman I had held today. It wasn't her fault, and I felt the heavy weight of guilt settle on me. It was my fault our life wasn't what it should have been. The difficulties that kept growing between us.
I love my wife. I never doubted it. Elaine had asked me once, if I loved the woman I was married to. I honestly said yes. I still wonder what she felt, knowing that. But, at the time, she had hidden her reaction too well. Elaine was good at hiding things.
Somehow, my love for my wife seemed almost shallow in comparison to the fire that she wrought in me.
I rolled onto my side, staring at the wall. I had so many questions to ask her. Was there another man now? Perhaps children? I had always known she would be a wonderful mother, part fierce, part gentle. I was so afraid to ask. She hadn't worn a ring, but then, I hadn't the day we met. Was she successful? I wondered if she still painted, and wrote. Was she married?
I had told her, at last. Fully expecting her hatred, when all I felt was love for her. I had taken her hand, my wedding band now in place. The words I had spoken, well rehearsed, well considered. "I fell in love once, when I was younger. I thought it was forever. I married her seven years ago." Delivered with a complete lie of calmness.
  The shock in her eyes, before she became cool. Though her face showed nothing, a silent inner battle was taking place. A war fought in her chest. I knew nothing I could say would matter. I could cry my love to her, beg her to stay. But I knew what I asked of her was a dishonorable thing. I would not try to convince her to stay with me.
She had stood, telling me she would talk to me later, choking out the words, and walked away.
I stared at my wedding band. I had taken it off because of the difficulties between my wife and I. It had seemed so simple at the time, just find a place to relax. I never intended to let it get far enough to hurt. I hadn't meant to love her.
I thought back to our first meeting, the smiles, the excitement I had felt. How beautiful she was, just standing there, holding a book. I had almost been too afraid to approach her. What would a young woman like that want with me?
I glanced over to the liquor cabinet. It was tempting, but I remembered the fear in her eyes when I had gotten tipsy one evening. It was part of her past, something she barely spoke of. Only saying past was past, and that it didn't matter now.
It mattered to me. I wanted to wrap her up, protect her from everything, even myself. But it seemed she was determined to protect me from what had been. She was so young. I hadn't realized how young she had been when we met, just eighteen. I had thought her to be in her twenties, poised and beautiful, a woman. She had lived so much, in so little time. Sometimes she told me she felt old. I could see that in her eyes. She had a strange wisdom, she knew somehow, what I felt. She had known I loved her before I had spoken.
But, then, it had been pure joy to her.
I sighed softly, wishing for day to come, so I could go to work, and forget for a few hours. But memories would follow me there too. I had missed her during the day, and sent her an e-mail. She had responded, delighted. Our messages were short and light, until she sent one that made me want to climb the walls. It amazed me how innocent and sweet she was, while still being able to blow my mind with a scorching hot letter.
I couldn't ignore it, and had to reply in kind. That had sparked the daily messages and calls, reminders of what we shared. Even now, a small, blue glass figure sat on my desk. It was shaped into a kitten, one paw raised, an invitation to play.
How many times I had thought myself a fool for taking that invitation.
But, despite the pain in the end, I wouldn't trade that time for anything else. I never understood what she was, I still don't. But something about her made men see a mate in her. I had, my perfect match. I remember the jealousy that rose up in me. So many of those men were younger, better looking. They could all offer her something I couldn't. Yet, somehow, she had convinced me that she was mine alone. And for awhile, she was.
It had changed, of course. She had become distant. Slowly, so slowly I didn't notice it. I still don't know if it was a conscious effort to protect our hearts, or simple instinct.
The letters and phone calls had stopped. She spent more time out at night, but not with me. It had hurt, and I didn't understand.
I can still remember the day she told me she had to leave me, move away even. Like she couldn't trust herself to be near me any more. As if she expected that I would force a relationship upon her. It broke my heart, and I felt like I wouldn't live again. She hid her tears from me, but sometimes, when I called her, her voice was quiet, and
tight. She would speak of simple things, trying to keep me from the truth. It worked for awhile. I think she knew that, too. That believing she was fine would force me into being strong as well. I saw her one last time though, and she smiled even through she was silently crying. She told me she was breaking both our hearts, and I knew she was right.
I pulled my pillow tight to my chest, gasping in air, and forcing my tight body to relax, making myself erase all thoughts, meditating until sleep came at last.