(continued from previous post)

My cellphone displays your name on the screen. Why would you be calling me, I haven’t spoken to you in six months since we broke up.

“Do you want to watch Slumdog Millionaire?”

“You mean like, on a date?”

“Yea, sure…”

You pull up my driveway in the same car you drove to prom, the beige Honda with the mini teddy bear hanging from the rearview mirror. I just spent thirty minutes getting ready and choosing my outfit, trying to look good while pretending that I didn’t try too hard for you. I slide in the passenger seat, as casually as if we had actually been dating.

“Where are you taking me for dinner?” I cheerfully ask.

“I was thinking La Madeleine, I really want french food.”

—————-

“So where are we going for dinner?” I was so excited. I was 16, he was my first real boyfriend, and this was my first real date. He even picked me up in a car – no more ‘ask your parents to drive you on your date’ for me. I could tell that he had tried hard to look nice, because he was wearing a blue button-down shirt instead of the same two-sizes-too-large T shirt he always wore. I think I even smelled a hint of cologne. I had never had someone go through all that trouble for me.

We ate at La Madeleine because it was close to the theater. It was a cozy french restaurant with candlelight and charming decor. We picked a small table near the back of the restaurant, by the window. The food was not memorable, but we both went crazy with the free fruit jam and toast, wanting to try all the different varieties. By the end of the meal, we had probably eaten more in free jam than the restaurant had made in profit off of us.

————–

“I think it was this table, let’s sit here,” you say pointing to that cozy table in the back by the window.

“Sure,” I laugh, uncomfortably. Bringing me to the same restaurant and the same table where we started our relationship four years ago. It almost seems like we’re celebrating our four year anniversary. Except we’re not.

“So, how has school be like for you?” I’m trying to make idle talk. We catch up about school, family, life in general. It’s almost like we’re high schoolers again, going on our first date. Is this the message that you wanted to send me? That we can start over and return to when things were happier between us? If you’re willing to, then I am too.

————–

You walk me to the door as you send me home. I turn around before entering, purposefully dawdling around hoping that you would kiss me. You know what I’m thinking, but then you see my grandfather at the top of the stairs staring you down. I guess our first kiss will have to wait until next time. I close the door behind me, and can’t believe that things were actually going right for once.

————

You start driving me home but purposefully slow down as we near the turn to my house. Seeing no resistance from me, you speed up again, but drive straight, taking the road to the ballpark instead. You park the car in the darkest part of the lot, lean over to the passenger side, and start to rub your body against mine. As I feel you inside me, I realize that you didn’t really want anything else from me. You didn’t really want to start over. You didn’t really care about my feelings. You just wanted this. Well you got what you wanted, and left me worse off.