Begin Again

Mya's decision to stop involvement with Megan is followed by a visit from Alex.

Wednesday morning. Middle of the week. Yay. The pain of last weekend’s Megan questions end, and this weekend’s begin.

Why did I ever agree to this? She’s the older one with more experience with boys than me, why does she need my help? To be honest, I want out. Crying every night over painful memories brought up just to help the person who is keeping him from me, is not how I wanted to spend my junior year. I’m sure Megan wouldn’t want me to do this if she knew about the hell it’s putting me through �" the b***h is decent enough to have a heart. Then there’s Alex �" if he ever found out . . . boy am I dead. I’m getting out now before something bad happens.

I sent Megan a text tell her that I can’t answer her questions anymore.

I took a shot of coffee to burn the lump in my throat to burn it into ashes. Nothing alittle morning coffee can’t solve for a long day to come.

As if on cue in a bad lifetime movie, Alex walked into the coffee shop. He saw me. I could see he the old desires of our past hit him to where he wanted to talk to me like we used to. But he also wanted to ignore me like he did the feelings. I guess today was different for some reason, probably my presence without force of communication, because he did a little half smile. The smile I dreamt about for months.

I guess denial broke his desire. He went straight up to the counter and ordered his coffee. I went back to my writing. My vision blurred from the jitters he gave me at a thought.

“Hey.”

I looked up. He was leaning over the table. I silently giggled under my breath in a faint smile.

“This is quite the scene. Should I be expecting a camera crew?”

“Huh?”

“Silent writer, alone in a coffee shop. Very Tina Fey.”

I’d never heard him narrate in such advanced language, verbally.

“You mean the struggling writer scene from the beginning of a Lifetime movie?”

He silently chucked and smiled, “Sure.”

I smiled. It felt good to do so after so long of faking it.

“So, anything big happening?” he teased.

“Yeah, I’m now an online published writer.”

“Nice. Maybe I’ll look you up,” he turned on his flirt. Did he realize who I am?

I shook my head, “It’s not me though.”

“I had a feeling it wasn’t you. I think I still remember your fake name.”

“You don’t have to,” I tried not to be the pitiful, shy girl.

“I want to. I wanna understand that complex mind of yours.”

I guess Megan taught him some new phrases to use, stuff I’d normally say. I couldn’t understand how he picked up on that. That and why he’d want understand me.

“Why?”

He had a smack of backing-down slapped into his expression, “It’s complicated.”

“Okay?”

“The youth girls have been reading your stuff. I’d been wondering how they got ahold of it, but now I know. I wanna know why they are so interested. You must be good enough to get their attention.”

“Thanks.” A compliment.

I could tell he was blown away by a difference he could see in me. It looked like he liked it; like he wanted to know more about it. It was reliever to know he had enough interest in me to even want to know me again.

I decided to write down my writer name for him. I have no clue why, but I did.

“Alex!” the counter waitress called.

“We should probably go anyway.”

“Okay, see ya,” he headed toward the counter. I gathered my notebooks and coffee. I walked out with a resting heart and a relieved smile printed on my face.

“On a Wednesday, in a café, I watched it begin again.”

I prayed the words.