“It’s taking him forever!” I moaned while tracing my index on the circle of my flute.

One thing I hate the most on this crazy planet is “the waiting”.

I deepened my fork prong inside the white linen tablecloth. “Probably be using you by now” I whispered to it and it glistened back winking at me.

I held my panging stomach. It’s nearing six in the evening and I haven’t eaten since breakfast. My gut is hollowed and churning.

“That’s it!”

 If he comes and if it seems a crime to order without him then let it be, it’s his fault.

I ordered a mousse and a coffee. I was convinced that now he’ll crash in anytime.

Skimming the place around, I’m feeling so bashful, so red faced. Say hi to my rash. You see, it comes whenever I feel like Steve has chucked me out or Steve is seeing some other girl or maybe he forgot he has a girlfriend.

I sighed; these thoughts are really whelping whenever I feel like torturing myself. And I do this over and over picturing every minute detail till my head hurts like Hell, my fingers start to shiver and I could barely breathe.

Air. I need to catch breath.

I make way to the lavatory, leaving behind with ever step the bustling doors, whooshing hot steam and clattering crockery.

I close the door behind me and settle my back at it. Trying to take deep breaths, I calm my nerves a bit.

For heaven’s sake, Elijah. Why would he do this. He’s Steve after all, he loves you. He must be stuck in traffic or something.

 I know he is my insecurity and I can’t bare to lose him but I shouldn’t be so oversensitive. Guys get tired of needy and insecure girls.

I imagine to be someone else. Someone who keeps her cool even if her boyfriend shows up late.

This helps a lot. I see my worries evaporating in the humid toilet air.

I then lean towards the mirror. Screening this girl in the reflection that is me, I search for cigarettes in my jeans pocket. Light one up and inhale deeply. I watch every puff rush out of my mouth.

It’s crazy but I get skeptical sometimes about my existence like Rene Descartes. Staring at my reflection too hard, my eyes start to hurt.

I now make my way back, keeping my cool I sort of power walk back to my table with a smile.

Just as I managed to dump three bites in my stomach, my breath hitched.

 It’s him.

 It’s Steve. It takes me loads of self-control to not just run at him. I stay put with a long smile on my face. I forgive him immediately as soon as I see him.

His face arrests me. Every time I feel like I’m seeing him for the first time. I drink him in: the grape-green eyes with black eyelashes thicker than mine, intense brown hair, square jaw and radiantly tan skin_ so prized by girls.

He scanned the place with a frown and smiled by raising his left cheek. He always smiles from the left.

He was in his infamous jacket and skinny jeans. Oh, my carefree Steve.

He slumped against me with a HI. A hi I haven’t heard before. No apologies. No I MISSED YOU. No kisses. Nothing warm.

Keep your cool.

“So how did it go back there in Sheffield?” I asked in my best voice.

“Great!” he told his phone.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Elijah. I’m okay. It’s just… well…” he sighed while placing his phone on the table.

“What is it?”

Something’s off. Something really bad. I prepared myself. Holding my breath while every cell of mine said DON’T ASK. LET IT BE, YOU’LL BE DISAPPOINTED.

Steve was radiating danger. My body never felt fight or flight around him.

Keep your cool.

“Well…” he was collecting words how to break something I believe is bad.

He’s been acting weird ever since he got here and now it’s beginning to piss me off.

Abruptly, his phone dozing on the table made this beep sound like it received a message or something. Bringing to light a blond smiling wide with teeth and had her arms wrapped around him.

Noticing me looking hard at it with clenched jaw, he pressed it off.

“Who is she?” I couldn’t keep the anger out of my tone.

He shifted and rubbed his palm on face, “Look, let’s set this straight… I’m breaking up with you”.

I was wrong he wasn’t collecting kinder words to break the news, if he had cared he wouldn’t be saying that.

Wait. Did he actually say that?

“Wait, what?”

“I know it’s hard for you to get through it but you have been acting pretty crazy lately. It gets really hard for me to bear you sometimes”

Reject, reject, reject.

If he had slapped me in public it wouldn’t have hurt that bad.

Me? Crazy?

“I mean I have a life. I can’t put up with a mental like you forever. You even don’t have friends so I get pressurized even if it’s not my fault”.

Reject that too.

His words snatched life out of me. I felt like I’ll collapse.

My head kept moving sideways in denial. My throat felt full and heavy from unshed tears.

“You know you don’t have to say that. I know it’s because of her” I said in a shaky voice which squeaked in the end.

“No, Elijah. It’s not because of her it’s you” his voice dropped to something between a whisper, “YOU!”

My fingers started shaking again. My face turned red again. He hates me anyway. Even if I stay cool or anything.

“Do you hate me?” I wanted something more to convince myself that it’s all over.

“I abhor you, Elijah. You are just sucking everything I have. You just…”

“Shut up!!!” I shouted.

I sensed people turning at us.

“I’m mental? I’m crazy, huh? What are you? Is this the way to talk to someone? I mean if you are sane then talk like you are!”

“For heaven’s sake Elijah! There is no need to create everything a scene!” his voice was barely audible. More like he mumbled out of embarrassment.

Embarrassed that everyone’s watching. But do crazy people don’t feel embarrassed? What about the humiliation his words gave me?

“Mental” I heard him call me again with disgust in his tone.

I lost it. Lost all my cool. Everything.

Then it all happened in slow motion. Every crazy thing happens in slow motion.

I was radiating with anger. If I had spat, it could’ve destroyed the whole restaurant.

I pushed the table over, which hit with a splat. High sound echoed everywhere. The sound of a broken heart, ironically.

First, the crystal glass revolted, smashing into millions of pieces then the utensils clattered and finally a horrible sound of my coffee cup.

Steve got away immediately in defense.

I breathlessly paused to see his stupid face, cursed with dismay.

“Elijah!” he gasped.

I grabbed a hold of his shirt, looked him in the eye and said “You provoked me. Go and rot with that bitch, I won’t bother you but never show your shitty face to me again!”

I heard audible gasps around and a buzz of discussing us.

He pried his shirt free and threateningly hissed, “I won’t and just so you know her name is Kayla”.

The word got out quickly and it spread to the management like fire. A guy in black tuxedo was practically running towards us with his lips perched in a thin line out of disapprovement.

I was too angry to even care so I marched out.

Standing outside I managed to yell again “Yeah! Charge him heavy!”

I hurried away. Taking longer strides.

I could feel it. Heat. Blowing up my legs, up my chest to my face.

My eyes pricked and hurt. I wanted to cry hard. Really hard. Right here, in the middle of a road.

But I kept my tears from trespassing my sockets. I wiped snot off my nose and sniffed.

I wanted him to keep me steady. He was the only one helped me escape from the damn mess my life is. Things had been are now still are hard for me.

He wasn’t just my boyfriend. He was my need.

Now I don’t know what will become of me.

I walked past the trees, struggling to keep myself from sobbing and crying and mourning.

Two kids rushed past me laughing and racing. Such carefree kids. Enjoying and living their childhood.

Childhood. How was my childhood?

It was dark, mean and the complete opposite of what those children have. I have seen things, experienced things and have been things I doubt if anyone could have a childhood like me.

All those memories make me more frustrated. My fists ball and clench.

I just want to get rid of the state I’m in. I want to do something.

I glanced up and gazed at a man in his forties, on the pavement, slightly shaking a Hickory for the dead, yellow leaves to fall, then collecting them in a pile.

Crunching my shoes over the blanket of dead leaves, I approached him.

“Can I do that?” I asked.

Bemused, he turned, “Me?”

“You heard me. Can I do that?” I pointed the tree.

“Erm… sure” he shrugged.

I then smiled and wagged a hell out of that small tree. Even the greens shed.

To and fro. To and fro.

He turned at me weirdly.

“What? Why are you giving me that look?” I asked failing to suppress my frustration.

“Your dewy eyes they speak a lot”.