Forgotten Love

Lucas

Pulling the car to a stop I take my phone out to check the map—this has to be the place. Looking out the window the building looks vaguely familiar. Anderson’s Cafe, the sign reads—different from the one I remember. But how much detail had I really picked up on as an 18-year-old guy on a pre-college road trip with his high school buddies? No way would I believe I’d be back, years later, hunting down a roadside cafe because of a girl I met once and couldn’t seem to forget.

The siding of the building has fresh paint, but the old rocking chairs are still out on the front porch, those I at least remember, and then there’s the flowers. Bunches of zinnias, marigolds and petunias, spilling out of planters and buckets spread out along the porch and up the front steps, beckoning you in with their beautiful abundance. That’s exactly how she wanted it: flowers and color everywhere you looked.

I exit the car, slide my phone into the pocket of my suit jacket and head towards the porch steps. I push through the front door and a bell jingles overhead, announcing my entrance. When I walk in, suddenly she is everywhere: in the scent of vanilla and cream that wafts in the air, the brightness that fills the space and the picked wildflowers overflowing vases on each table. Mismatched chairs and tables—probably discarded and written off as trash by someone else but look like found treasure in this space. She could find beauty anywhere—wouldn’t throw anything, or anyone, away. And then there’s the warmth. It envelopes me like a warm hug the moment I walk in. It feels like coming home. Yes, if I doubted it before I was sure now. This was the place. It was pure magic. It was all her.

I make my way across the worn wood floor through a busy morning crowd. Most of the tables seem to be occupied in this small storefront area. A few plush, comfy chairs are placed closer to the front windows, and in the back sits a cashier counter next to an enclosed glass display full of pastries, breads and fresh sandwiches.

Pattering footsteps sound from behind me and a whirl of color streaks past as a small boy in a t-ball uniform runs through the cafe. “Mommy, mommy! We won!” he shouts as he heads straight for the back. The older woman working the counter swiftly intercepts his sprint, picking him up and placing him on her hip. He can’t be more than five or six. “Slow down there lightning, your momma will be right out. She’s getting a refill on our morning buns. Where’s your grandpa at?”

“He’s comin’! He just can’t keep up with me!”

“Now that I can believe,” the woman says, swiping her graying hair out of her eyes and placing him back down on the ground. The boy looks at me then, and it’s a curious thing. His brown eyes, freckled nose. He reminds me of myself, before suits and corner offices were my reality.

“Run back out to your grandpa now and take off your cleats—you’re tracking mud all over the place.” The boy begrudgingly makes his way back out toward the front door.

“Sorry about that sir, what can I help you with?” The woman redirects her attention to me, and I draw my eyes back to her after watching the boy run out.

“Oh yes, well you see, I was looking for someone actually, she used to work here, do you maybe know if-”

Just then, from out of the back doorway leading to what must be the kitchen, I see a mess of golden curls fluttering through. My heart stills as the curls give way to a woman carrying a tray of baked goods. She turns toward me and I see her for the first time since that night. Bright green eyes, heart-shaped face, delicate nose and cheeks that always seemed to be stained pink. She is ethereal.

Just as she did that one and only night we had together, she takes my breath away.

“Hi,” it’s barely a whisper that escapes my mouth. I don’t know if I even really expected her to be here. I clear my throat as she stares right back at me, now frozen to the stop.

I start again, “Do you remember..”

Clara

My eyes lock with his and suddenly I’m transported to five years before. A whole other lifetime; a hot summer evening when dreams still had possibility and I tasted lust for the first time. Of course I remembered, how could I not? My life changed forever that night.

The man who looks back at me is not the same boy who stole my heart all that time ago. But I can see it in his eyes that it’s him. I know those eyes too well.

“Lucas. What are you doing here?” It’s the only thing to say. After all this time, after my relentless attempts at finding him, why would he waltz through my doors on a random Tuesday morning in the middle of June, so many years later?

Before he can answer I put down the tray of buns that still occupy my arms and hand them off to Monica, “Here—we have no more blueberry scones left but I have a batch of muffins almost done in the oven.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just show up like this,” the man before me, Lucas, the man that once was the boy I gave everything to, says. He seems nervous all of a sudden. What does he have to be nervous for? “I was on my way to a client and was passing through. I remembered the cafe and thought I’d see if you were still here.”

He made it sound so simple. So innocent. I was an afterthought on a work trip for him. But for me, I’d thought of him every day since that night. That night was the most important night of my life.

“Mommy mommy!”

I’m snatched from my thoughts as my almost six-year-old comes tearing through the front door of the cafe. My stomach drops to the floor. No. I’m not ready for this.

Avery races straight for me and I catch him in my arms, my nose filling with his scent of dirt and fresh-cut grass, exactly what every boy should smell of in the summer.

“Oh sweetheart, how was your game?” I try to stay in the present and not focus on the past that still stands before me.

“It was so great! We beat ‘em so good!” He pumps his fist in the air, barely containing his excitement. Then he turns to take in the patron behind us.

“Hey, you’re still here,” he says right to Lucas and they look at each other, brown eyes to brown eyes. Avery tilts his head to the side in thought. He’s always been too smart for his own good. “Do I know you?”