Two decades following our high school dance, the young woman who completely shifted my world appeared on my porch during a storm in a situation we never could have guessed. She failed to remember my face. I knew who she was right away. Plus, prior to the following evening ending, I pulled a move she never saw coming.
The water was falling so heavily that evening it seemed as though the clouds had dropped right on top of my house.
The moment the buzzer sounded, I pulled the entrance open assuming I would get food sacks and a fast word of thanks. Rather than that, I spotted the lady I had held in my mind for two whole decades waiting on my steps wearing a washed-out driver coat.
Identical cheek indents. Identical big dark eyes. Identical gentle lips I had previously seen grinning my way below the dance hall bulbs back when I was seventeen and fighting the urge to trust in magic.
Chloe extended the meal using two hands, her digits shaking due to the chill, a wet sports hat blocking the light from her features.
“Your meal, mister,” she spoke.
Mister. Absolutely not Liam. Not a single hint of knowing who I was.
I grabbed the sack yet continued looking at her. During our teen school days, I acted as the “heavy” sad teenager no person glanced at except if they needed a joke. Today I was thirty-seven, thinner, more balanced, and shaped calmly by decades of creating a future starting from zero.
Chloe possessed zero clues to link this adult to the heavy teenager I was in the past. Even so, it hurt my feelings.
“Would you care for a drink?” I at last got out. “You appear completely drained.”
She moved her head side to side. “I am unable to. My sibling is holding out for me. He is feeling sick. I am the single person watching over him.”
“The single person?”
“Following my mother’s passing, it is merely me.” Chloe faked an exhausted grin. “Have a safe evening, mister.”
She rushed away into the wet weather. I observed through the glass pane while she walked over the concrete path toward a rusty vehicle resting beneath the road light. She twisted the starter, yet the engine refused to kick on.
Following that she rested her brow against the steering ring, and the moment her upper back began to tremble, I realized I was not witnessing a bad evening. I was witnessing a difficult existence.
I snatched my car opener and moved toward the exit, however prior to me getting to Chloe, the motor coughed into action. She cleaned her cheeks using the bottom part of her palm, reversed way too quickly, and vanished right into the storm.
I waited inside the corridor holding chilled delivered meals in my palm along with a heart packed with past thoughts.
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