The Last Time

Sensitive Content: While this story includes no descriptions of violence or abuse, there are themes addressing domestic violence and its impact.

They sat at one of two tables in the tiny side room at her old favorite café. The first stop on her trip down memory lane, packaged up as “let me show you where I went to college!”. Empty white tea plates where their pastries had been still in front of them as they lazily sipped on their coffees. His back to the archway leading to the main area containing the display cases and registers, but she had clear view. Amelia had been lovingly engaged with him as he rambled on about his latest work woes, but the jingle of the bell on the front door caused her gaze to stray to the front room.

“Like a moth to a flame,” he chuckled at her inability to focus but if he was smiling, she wouldn’t have known. “We probably should have switched se –”

Amelia abruptly stood up causing the old wooden chair to creak loudly against the floorboards further inducing her panic.

“Fuck!”

She felt her cheeks warm and was sure they were bright red already against her pale complexion. It was like she had attempted a fake cough to hide a fart in public but instead coughed and then farted once gaining everyone’s attention. And then yelled fuck for good measure. Not that that had ever happened to her…

Her vision was closing in. She was just standing there, perfectly framed by the archway now. A sitting duck. The back of the head belonging to the face she so desperately did not want to see, or more so to see her, started to turn in her direction.

“I need to leave.”

Despite being a side room, there was separate exterior doorway to the front patio for her to escape through. Unfortunately, it was full of other patrons simply trying to enjoy a relaxing breakfast now interrupted by a frantic and panting young woman busting onto the patio like the Kool-Aid (wo)man.

Amelia gave the couple sitting at the table immediately in front of her an apologetic smile.

“Apologies! Ummm.” For some reason she continued now in a proper British accent, “Proceed.” Simultaneously gesturing with her open palm, then curtsied, then scurried off onto the gravel parking lot. The fresh air hitting her face helping her regain some, minimal but some, brain capacity.

Their car was parked immediately out front to her right. Now next to his truck. She couldn’t wait there. What if he came out before Jackson? She’d just left him at the table. Knowing him he’d clean up the table and make sure to leave a tip in the jar up front first.

Her feet made the decision without informing her brain and she found herself heading into the road towards the neighborhood across the street. She could get far enough in or to a side street and wait there.

Just as she was reaching the other side she heard Jackson's voice. It was said with enough force that he must have just gotten outside and likely was still up near the parked cars.

“Amelia...”

He got outside faster than she expected but she couldn’t slow down especially now that he was yelling her name likely alerting him that she was there.

“AMELIA! Are you okay?”

“Obviously not!” She yelled back but refused to turn around and expose her face. The traffic light down a few blocks must have recently turned green because she could hear a steady stream of cars at her back now, allowing her to get a safe distance into the neighborhood before taking a seat on the curb. A large magnolia tree in full bloom providing some shade.

If she wasn’t on the brink of passing out or throwing up, she’d probably ramble on to Jackson once he reached her about how much she loves this town. The old homes surrounded by real street trees, old enough the roots had made the sidewalks uneven in so many places kids were forced into the streets to bike, rollerblade or scooter but the people of that town didn’t mind. They wanted the history and the realness and everyone was respectful enough to go the 14-mph speed limit. Because apparently choosing an even 15 would have been too fast. No cookie cutter houses here either with HOAs telling you your fence doesn’t fit the preset vibe of boring. Everything here with character and care.

Amelia saw Jackson slowly approaching. Feeling safe with Jackson certainly in between her and him, she laid back in the grass to stare up at the beautiful newly bloomed flowers. The sound of his shoes shuffling along the sidewalk alerting her to how close he was getting.

He had to be about 10 yards away when she heard him stumble on likely a tree root induced crack in the sidewalk and then mutter a series of unintelligible profanities under his breath. She couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh and closed mouth smile as he now closed the gap between them.

Just like Jackson to make her laugh in the midst of a pending panic attack.

“Okay gonna tell me what the fuck that was about?” Jackson sat down beside her and despite Amelia showing no signs of answering him anytime soon, spoke no further. She remained laying in the grass, and he remained seated looking forward. He used to without fail look directly into her eyes during difficult or emotional conversations until one day she left a letter on his kitchen counter. After months of chickening out to simply ask him, her therapist had suggested the note idea. They had actually agreed she'd hand it to him but even that made her too anxious so she compromised with herself and left it on her way out for work one early morning while he was still in the shower.

Can you look away next time you ask me something difficult? I’m sorry. It just will make it easier for me to speak.

He never brought it up and she had begun to wonder if even read it until one day he asked her plainly if she was happy with their relationship. She had been plucking her eyebrows in the master bathroom while he was lying in bed reading already. Close enough to easily converse with the door open but an entire wall between them and she knew he read it.

Amelia took an exaggerated sigh as she had unknowingly stopped breathing since he’d sat down on the curb. “Remember I told you about an ex from college?”

“Yeah, there were three, right? The one from freshman year who embarrassed himself on shrooms and transferred,” Jackson looked up towards the sky and while she couldn’t see his face in that moment, she could picture his nose scrunched up in thought, “the douchey one sophomore year who we ran into back home and then the one who…”

Amelia reached out and placed her hand on his lower back. He turned his head to look down at her and their eyes met for the first time since the rattle of the bell in the cafe. His lips pursed together and shifted to the left side of his face. A knowing sadness in his eyes which she was sure she mirrored.

“So he’s the one who…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Jackson returned to facing forward and stayed like that quietly for at least a few minutes.

“How long were you with him?” Amelia thought she he heard his voice break but couldn’t be sure because he was speaking rather softly now.

“Too long.”

Another minute or two passed. Despite the pure panic she just endured, laying under a tree on a beautiful day with her man wasn’t a bad morning. She noticed him turn out of the corner of her eye and watch her for a bit, but she was hypnotized by the slight movements in the leaves from the breeze that was also lulling her into relaxation to look back. A tickle on her skin like a light feather teasing goosebumps.

“I hate to tell you this but,” Jackson paused long enough she knew he was waiting for her to return to him and likely to gage which direction he could take his next sentence.

“What?” She elongated every syllable in the word unsure if she wanted to hear what he had to say but met his gaze anyways. His face scrunched up with sarcastic pity and he began nodding ever so slightly. A condescending look that would have sent her into a blinding rage if it were anyone but him. She knew he was about to piss her off but in the best kind of Jackson way. Her face betraying her as she tried her best to fight off the preemptive smile but the corners of her mouth were too strong. That was all the encouragement he needed.

“I saw…the curtsy.”

Amelia let out a single unruly laugh slightly resembling a chicken ‘ba-gock,’ then sat up to place her head in her hands.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God. I maybe could have forgotten all about that, asshole!” She playfully punched him in his arm. He returned the joke with a pretend ‘ow’ and slowly rubbed the damage zone.

“We both know you never forget a single weird thing you do.” Jackson gave her an exaggerated kiss on the cheek with a corresponding “MWAH”.

Amelia beamed at him. She was so simple after all. Show her silly love with kisses and hugs and compliments. Don’t strangle, slap, yell, belittle, or gaslight her. Simple.

This time she looked him in the eyes when she spoke, “I just wanted the last time I saw him to be –”.

“The last time you saw him.”

“Yeah,” she let out a therapeutic sigh and dropped her head onto his shoulder. Jackson placed his warm hand on her knee and started to gently rub his thumb back and forth. She closed her eyes.

“You know, maybe it’s okay that the last time wasn’t the last time. This can be the last time and this time, I have you.”