The air outside was a bit chilly, as it had been raining for quite some time. It was only noticeable through the glass exterior of the café — you couldn’t hear it over the bustling atmosphere inside; all you could rely on was the blurry motion of rain against the ceiling-high windows. Azlan was worried about Lily; he was sure she wasn’t carrying an umbrella to protect herself from this god-awful rain. He kept scratching his head and was certain this would one day leave him with a bald spot.
The waiter asked if he needed a refill for his coffee and whether he was waiting for someone. He politely shook his head and went back to himself. He went through all of his belongings once more, as if to remind himself that he couldn’t let this moment pass — he had to stay present enough to hold on to the details of this interaction, one he was sure would be a lasting memory for them both. He unlocked his phone and opened the Notes app — bullet points for a conversation he’d been rehearsing for weeks. He read the first one, then locked the screen again.
Finally, the doorbell rang and the guard greeted the newcomer. Azlan felt relief at last. She’s finally here.
Just as he had expected, she was indeed soaking wet from the rain. She had taken off her glasses, which were fogged from the cold, and so she couldn’t see where he was sitting. She kept squinting around, letting her gaze rest on each table for a moment to check whether it was him. When she finally found him, her laugh crossed the whole room before she did, and Azlan was sure his heart skipped a beat.
She made her way towards him, nearly knocking into another café-goer — still without her glasses — and sat down. She sighed with relief, asked a passing waiter for tissues, and almost melted into the brown, pliable couch.
“It’s monsoon, how are you still not carrying an umbrella?” he said, offering tissues from his own bag.
“I actually took an umbrella when I got out of the house today! But then one of my colleagues needed to go somewhere else, so I lent it to her.”
“And what were you supposed to do? Cascade down like Mary Poppins? Oh no, wait — she has an umbrella, unlike you.”
“We finally meet after almost three months and this is what you want to open the conversation with? Maybe the rain was an omen and I should have listened to it telling me not to come here.”
Waiters sometimes have uncanny timing for the moments when you are about to rehash old wounds and years of burden, and Azlan couldn’t help but feel that God had sent this waiter to ruin his lunch with Lily today — because the man chose this exact moment to arrive and tell her about the day’s specials, along with the drink menu. Then again, Azlan was also thankful; it gave him a few moments to gather his thoughts. He could never express himself through words, no matter how desperate he was — if anything, the desperation made it worse. He had promised himself that no matter what, he would do his utmost today. After all, this was the last time they would ever be this close. He glanced at his phone under the table. Bullet point one: ‘Just say it plainly.’ He put it away.
“I’m sorry — I didn’t mean it to come across as rude. I was just worried about you.”
“Ah, it’s fine, but you really have to work on your openers, you know. Someday someone is going to walk away from you.”
“Not if I leave first.”
“Not funny, Azlan. And what was so important that you called me here today?”
“That can wait. Have you been doing well?”
“Define well.”
“So, that’s a no.” he finally laughed a little.
“Ah! You can’t just say it like that. But — yes, I have been a bit overwhelmed recently.” She answered while playing with her mobile charm, avoiding eye contact. “I miss you sometimes, you know. I wish it didn’t have to be played out this way.”
Something tightened in his throat. His nose went warm — the particular, treacherous warmth that came just before. He tried to look elsewhere, to fix his eyes on the rain-blurred window, and then her scent reached him: the perfume they’d chosen together for her birthday. He had three shirt buttons open. He pressed a fourth between his fingers and let it go.
“Do you think people actually heal from their traumas?” he said softly, making sure she didn’t catch on to his burning eyes.
“I guess so. I am getting help for it. Yet sometimes the helplessness feels stagnant — I can’t help it, with all the things that have happened. I don’t know if I will ever be fully over them.”
“Well, getting over and healing are different things, no?”
“To me it always felt like a finale of some sort, and you know how much I love a good ending.”
“Hm. To me, healing is closer to acceptance — a promise to yourself that you acknowledge this has happened, and these are the actions you have taken in response to it. Now you can be ‘normal’. Does that make sense?”
“But I am not okay with it. I can’t even do anything about what has happened — how do I ‘heal’? I always feel like I am moving around with a festering wound.”
She finally looked up at him, and they both knew who the wound was.
Azlan couldn’t help it. He held her gaze and counted the moles scattered across her face: the cluster near her left eye, the one above her lip, and her signature doe-like eyes. As if to remind himself once more that this was her sitting in front of him, and he was not in a memory. The same seven as always. He let out a slow breath.
“I am leaving the country.”
At this particular moment, the waiter arrived with her order. It blocked his view of her reaction, and he almost wanted to push the waiter away. By the time the waiter left — after a rundown of her order and a check on whether she wanted anything else — the moment had passed.
He coughed as she stirred her coffee. Still no reaction.
“I am leav—”
“I heard you the first time.”
He couldn’t hide the hurt from his face.
“Do you not have anything to say to me?”
“Is that why you came here? Just to get a reaction out of me? You stopped talking to me for three months, I don’t see you at any events, and you just — what? Want to drop this bomb on me, on a random Wednesday?”
“No! I just wanted to tell you. You’re still my friend.”
“Is this what friendship is to you? You just wanted to hurt me one last time, didn’t you?”
“It’s not like that. You know that — you know I would never do that to you.” He tried to reach for her hands.
She pulled her hand away. “Your intentions are never to hurt me, but do I believe your words or the fact that after every meeting I am always left crying? What did you really want from me with this news?”
“I wanted you to tell me that you don’t want me to leave.” He was out of his chair before he had decided to stand, and he reached for her hand again. This time she let him hold it for a moment. “I want to leave. The only reason I might reconsider is you — you are the only thing tying me down to this place, and I don’t want to leave you. I just wanted to be sure that this decision wouldn’t bring you any pain, but it seems I have failed spectacularly once again.”
“I can’t ask you to stay, you know that. Please don’t put this decision on me — that’s too cruel, even for you.”
“I don’t know what to do with myself. Please, Lily — please help me one more time.” He was too close to her now, close enough to smell the shampoo in her wet hair, and it undid him completely. “I just want everything to return to how it was before. Is that too much to ask?”
“What are you doing? Sit down, please — you’re making a scene.”
“I have gone mad — that’s what has happened.” The dam finally broke; he was choking on his words. “I just want everything to return to how it was before. Is that too much to ask?”
Azlan knew he was ruining his one last chance. He had wanted to avoid this exact scenario — but how could he possibly predict a matter of the heart? All the rehearsals and notes weren’t enough when he finally faced her. He slumped back onto the couch, feeling defeated. She still wouldn’t give him the answer he was looking for.
Suddenly he felt a soft touch on his hands.
Lily was clinging to him.
And for a moment, he let himself have it — her arms, the lilac, the specific warmth of being known by someone. He knew this wasn’t a solution. He knew the flight was still booked, the wound was still there, the day was still ending. But she was holding on, and so was he, and for now that was the only truth either of them had.