It's Been So Long
It's Been So Long
“Katherine!” my mother squealed. She stood in the middle of my parents’ doorway, holding on tight to the doorknob.
“Hi mom,” I said, offering a tiny wave.
Mom gestured for me to come through the doorway. I walked inside, removing my shoes and placing them on the shoe rack that’s been here since I was a kid. The living room was filled with DVD holders, grey couches with drink stains, a small TV stand had a massive television atop it, and a coffee table that wasn’t big enough to fit more than three normal-sized picture frames.
The place looked just like it did when I left eight years ago.
As my mother cleaned up a few newspapers from the larger couch, she asked, “Would you like something to drink?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m good. Thank you.”
She nodded then put the newspapers on the nearby kitchen counter. Turning back to me, her head tilted. “Why are you still standing? Sit down. Sit down. Your father will be home soon.”
“Okay.” Even as a twenty-six-year-old, I still behaved like a kid in my parents house.
Mom and I caught up on what’s been going on in the last few years. Dad arrived while we were speaking and joined in on the conversation. They were so happy to see me, they nearly cried. I facetimed once a week, texted when I could, but it wasn't enough, seemingly. I should’ve visited them years ago. I should’ve come home after college ended, but I enjoyed being in the city. It became my new home. Returning didn't feel like an option.
Though, I missed my mom and dad too much. As well as the man I left behind.
A few days later, I woke up from a dream where I was going on a morning run. So, I thought Why not? As I ran, I began to remember why I didn't like running. My stomach clenched, my throat was dry from not bringing any water, the sun was beating down on me. I shouldn't have done this. But it was too late. I already fucking committed to this, now I had to see it through. My box braids blew behind me as I raced down the sidewalk. My heart pounded, sweat beaded down my back. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh air.
Not the best choice to close my eyes. I slammed into what felt like a brick wall. I started falling backwards, but a hand grabbed my own, stopping me from hitting the ground. My head began to ache. I pressed my free hand against my temple.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
A silky voice asked, “Katie?”
Eyes opening, my head raised to meet the person I bumped into. My entire body froze. My heart skipped a beat. He was just as beautiful as the last time I saw him, if not hotter.
In a shaky voice, I asked, “Malcolm?” My high school sweetheart.
Instincts made him continue to call me Katie, I guessed.
“It’s been so long,” he returned.
Eight years. Eight years since we broke up. After high school ended, I moved to the city for college, but Malcolm stayed behind. We promised each other we’d stay friends, not wanting to commit to long distance. Not at all what happened. We stopped communicating during my freshman year. And then I never came home.
I said, “It has.” Our hands were still conjoined. His grip was still the same—firm yet gentle at the same time. His skin remained soft. “How have you been?”
He looked me up and down, then nodded slowly. “Alright.” He scratched the back of his neck before returning the question back to me.
“I’ve been okay.”
We never looked away from each other. His thumb brushed over the back of my hand. It was something he always did when we were younger. I loved it.
Neither of us addressed the obvious. Was he scared to ask why we hadn’t spoken in eight years? I sure as hell was.
When his thumb caressed me again, I shouldn’t have liked it, but I missed it like I missed breathing. “Would you want to...” he started, scratching his neck again. When we were younger, he often performed that action when he was nervous. It seemed like that was still the case. Too cute, he was. He continued, “Grab something to eat? Like breakfast or coffee? We could catch up a bit. It’s been…a while.”
I tightened my grip on his hand and nodded. I bit my lip before answering, “I’d love to,” with a soft smile. “Is the coffee shop we used to go to still here?”
Bobbing his head once, he said, “Yeah. Meet me there at eleven?”
It was eight-thirty-five right now. I had enough time to freshen myself.
“Mhm. That works,” I replied.
“See you then.”
I waved goodbye before I turned around and ran back to my parents’ house. I just saw, fucking spoke to the love of my younger self's life. This would've happened eventually during my visit, but I didn't expect it during my early-morning, spontaneous run. The universe was strange.
My thoughts plagued itself with old memories. Years ago, Malcolm and I were inseparable- spending every moment together. Whether it was before school, after school, or on the weekends, we were with each other. Our parents allowed sleepovers, so sometimes I’d stay over at his place and steal his hoodies. Some of them he gave up to me. We’d play games, sing and dance, talk about anything and everything, share stories, and then lull each other to sleep.
He was my best friend.
I hated that we’d lost communication. We were together for three years, and neither of us texted or called after promising to stay friends? How close were we then? How much did we really love each other?
Truth be told, since we were teenagers, we probably didn’t actually care for each other. We could’ve been wrapped up in the idea of what a relationship was. At least, maybe that was how Malcolm was. I loved him for who he was, but who knew? Maybe he loved me for a different reason.
~
Eleven, on the dot, I pulled the coffee shop door open, immediately spotting Malcolm at a two-seater table with a cup of hot chocolate between his hands. He was never one for coffee. Whenever I used to drink it in front of him, he’d joke about how gross it tasted to him. He would fake retching at the sight of the beverage.
I wasn’t sure why, but the ends of my mouth tilted up as I kept watching him.
He looked up from his drink to the door, to me. I didn't know why, but my mouth couldn't help but fully lifted into a smile. I waved. He waved back, his lips lifting too, and gestured for me to come over. Once I got there, he stood and said, “You came.”
Had he thought I wouldn’t?
“Of course I did. I wouldn’t dream of missing a cup of coffee,” I joked.
Surprisingly, he chuckled. It did strange things to my heart. His chuckle reminded me of the times he laughed way back when. So cute.
“Have a seat,” he said, then pulled out the other chair for me.
“Thank you.” I sat down and scooted closer to the table.
He sat back down in his seat. “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered you a coffee and some food for the both of us.”
“No, I don’t mind. Thank you.”
My leg bounced while I looked around the tiny shop. Nothing much had changed since the last time I was here. Small pinball machines lined against the back walls, two-seater coffee tables to be sat at, and a chalkboard as the menu.
“So? How’s life been, Katie?” Malcolm started.
Eyes flew back to his soft ones. The ones I used to love staring into for hours. I replied, “Not too bad, honestly. I published some books.”
His eyes sparkled as the ends of his mouth lifted. “I know. You became quite successful, I hear.”
I chuckled a bit, darting my eyes to the table. “Somehow.” Deciding to be bold, my eyes met his again. “Have you read any?”
He nodded. “A few.”
My head tilted. “What did you think?” I asked slowly.
A lot of the books I wrote were about us. Or at least inspired by us. He was the only experience of love I’d ever had. He was the only man I could picture whenever I sat down to write. Our love was the only thing I could see.
“I liked them. You’re really talented.”
My lips pulled into a smile. Too bright of one. “Thank you.”
He said, “You should get them into my shop,” eyes twinkling again.
“You opened your bookstore?” He’d wanted one since I could remember, but he always claimed he’d do something else instead, like mechanical stuff.
“Yeah. I decided to take a page out of your book and follow my dreams.”
Be still, my heart. It wouldn’t. My heart pounded as if it were trying to leave my body and return to him.
“I’m happy for you,” I said. Before neither of us could say anything else, a waitress arrived at our table and handed me my coffee. She set down plates of food on our tables too.
When she walked away, Malcolm said, “I remember you were ridiculously in love with mocha cappuccino years back, so I thought I’d order it for you.”
The smell of fresh cocoa hit my nose. Heaven. He remembered after all this time. I figured he wouldn’t. Why did he choose to remember that?
He continued, a little frantic now, “Of course, if I’ve got it all wrong and you don’t like that kind of coffee now, I’m sorry, and I’ll order something el-.”
I interrupted, “No, no, it’s perfect. I haven’t stopped drinking mocha cappuccinos at all. I love them so much. Thank you, Malcolm.” Bringing the drink to my lips, I blew to put out some of the steam, then took a sip. The taste of chocolate calmed my senses.
While we ate and sipped, we also spoke some more. Feeling a little nervous, I bit my lip then released it. Should I ask him this question? It might be private. My curiosity was getting the better of me, so I asked, in a shaky breath, “Have you been in any relationships? Since we, you know…”
Malcolm took another bite of his food. He shook his head and covered his mouth, answering, “No. I haven’t.” He swallowed his bite. “Have you?” His voice was also a bit breathy.
I shook my head. I haven’t been able to move on after him. Even with us being apart for eight years.
Our eyes locked for another thirty seconds before he gazed down at his food, and I sipped my coffee. I reread the cafe’s menu for no reason. He hadn’t been with anyone in eight years. Did he try to move on? Or was he like me and yearned for his past lover? I should ask him this, but one personal question was enough for now. We only just reconnected.
Eventually, our meals and drinks disappeared, and it was time for me to return to my parents’ house. Malcolm offered me his hand to help me out of my seat. When I grabbed it, a rush of warm familiarity spread through me. Gosh, his hands. The things his hands could do.
We exited the cafe. “May I walk you home?” asked Malcolm.
I nodded. “Yeah. Sure.” Fuzzy things filled my insides.
Small conversations flowed between us on the way back. Some carried laughter and jokes, while others carried serious topics like life goals and thoughts on getting married since we were both getting older.
“I’d love to get married one day,” I said right as we arrived outside my childhood home. I turned around to face him. “And have a few kids.”
He took a step closer to me. “I’ve always wanted that too.”
My eyes pulled to the tiny space of sidewalk between us. Younger us had a dedicated plan to follow. We’d break up but stay friends, I’d come back from college then we’d get back together. In a few years, we’d get married, then have a few kids after that. I only wished we followed the first damn step.
In a whisper, I reminded him, “I know.” His chest heaved, and his eyes gleamed in the sunlight. “I’ve always known what we wanted back then.”
Malcolm gulped, cleared his throat. “Well, I guess this is your stop.”
One of the house lights flickered on. Hopefully, whoever was there wasn’t spying on Malcolm and me. “Guess it is,” I replied, turning back to him.
Neither of us said much for a few beats until Malcolm scratched the back of his neck again. Didn’t matter how many times he did that, I’d still find it cute. He asked, “Can we exchange phone numbers?”
Instantly, I beamed. “Yes. Yes, of course.” Lightning speed caused me to pull out my phone and open my contacts for him in a matter of seconds. “Give me your phone.”
He tossed his device to me, and I punched my number into a new contact. We handed each other’s phones back. His eyes softened, and my cheeks heated with blood. I promise I will not lose his number this time, I thought. I’d take his number to my grave. I’d message him every day if I had to make sure I remembered his number.
Malcolm said, “Okay, well. I better get going. It was good to see you again, Katie.” As he turned and started walking away, my hand latched onto his, halting him. He turned back around but didn’t pull his hand away. “What is it?”
“I-um,” I stuttered. What was I doing? Why did I grab his hand? Why did I never want to let it go? Because I loved him, dammit. And I needed to know if he still loved me.
I took a deep breath, then asked, looking deep into his green eyes. “Do you still love me?”
His mouth fell open slightly. “What?” he whispered.
Shit. Did I really just ask that?
I shook my head repeatedly. “I’m so sorry. I just… I just wanted to know. Ever since I got here, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Ever since I went to college, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Hell, ever since we broke up, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I know we lost communication, and I didn’t return for years, but ... I still love you Malcolm.” His eyes swam with something I couldn’t pin put. “Do you still love me?” I pleaded with him to answer at this point.
He stood still for a little bit, deep in thought. I was about to let go of his hand, figuring he wasn’t going to answer me, but he stepped closer. Voice low, he said, “It’s always been you, Katie. I’ve never once stopped loving you. Every day, I think about you. Every day, I’m dying for you to come back home. I was dying to tell you that I love you too much again.” The more he spoke, the closer he moved.
I was on the verge of tears. “I love you too,” I whispered.
“Every day and every night, I prayed you’d come back. I needed to see your beautiful face again.” His hand reached up and cupped my cheek. I hummed, taking in his soft touch. I fucking missed him.
I moved closer to him until our chests bumped. Our lips were mere centimeters apart. “Can I kiss you?” I whispered against his lips.
“Please.”
His breath mixed with mine, hands rested on my back, pushing me into his warm body. On my tiptoes, I wrapped my arms around his neck. I pulled him closer. We met in the middle when our lips pressed together. Just as soft as I remember. His lips tasted of what he’d eaten but also of mint, the scent of his Chapstick. I nibbled on his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth, kissing me deeper.
A tiny moan elicited from me when he bit my tongue. Our kiss was breathy, passionate. But before this escalated while we were in public, I pulled away but stayed close. We smiled at one another. I rested my forehead on his.
“I declare that I will win you back, Katie,” Malcolm said, rubbing his thumb into the skin of my back.
I giggled. “You don’t need to win me back. You already have me. You always had Malcolm." He giggled, then planted his lips back on mine again.
The End
Thank you for reading!
If you liked this short story, tell me in the comments. Also, let me know what you didn’t like! I’m always looking for feedback :) If you want to request a story or have a prompt idea, email me at ngjeffersonwrites@gmail.com. Bye!
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