We Set the World on Fire.

I sat in the coffee shop alone, my mind wandering, the steam from my coffee rolling off the edge of my cup, lulling my anxiety to a tolerable level. I jumped as the barista behind the counter pulled a lever, steam jumping wildly, angry. I laughed at myself quietly. Nothing to worry about, I reassured myself, lifting the coffee to my lips, the sweet liquid caressing my throat.

As I set the cup down, the door opened. In walked Aaron. I smiled a big, nervous smile. It felt as though I’d been sitting at this table for hours waiting for him to show. He was, in fact, five minutes early. He always was a sucker for punctuality. I stood as he made his way to my table. A few long strides and he’d wrapped me up in his arms, just the way he used to when we were young and wild. He smelled of soft leather and campfire.  

“How ya doing, kid”, he asked, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye. I felt the tears start to swell. Taking a deep, long breath I smiled and leaned into his chest. As a tear slid silently down my cheek I whispered, “As good as can be expected, I suppose.”

Aaron kissed the top of my head, releasing his grip on my smaller than normal frame. He lifted my chin, his hand warm on my skin. “You got this,” he replied. With a squeeze of my shoulders he made his way to the counter. He ordered his usual, a large black coffee, one pump of vanilla, two sugars, no milk. It was nice to see not much had changed after all these years.

I watched him from my chair, the memories of our younger selves swirling around the frayed edges of my mind. I searched his face, the wrinkles now set, deep and brooding, the stubble on his chin weathered, grey and lovely. His hazel eyes remained soft, surrounded by delicate, creped skin. His hands, knotted and gnarled from years of hard labor. He was still the beautiful boy I once loved, all grown up.

Aaron pulled out a chair and sat across from me, placing my hand in his. His skin was tough, callused and warm. He smiled at me with that boyish grin that had swept me off my feet all those years ago. As a smile crept across my face and I felt my cheeks flush, the soft skin around my eyes wrinkling. I was a sucker for his smile. The first time I saw it I blushed so hard I nearly walked into a wall.

The gold band around his finger glinted in the soft light of the coffee shop. “How is Andi,” I asked, patting the ring lightly with my hand.

“She’s well. She’s been up in Boston with Rian. Can you believe she’s starting college in the fall? Man, how time flies.”

Aaron had met Andi when he was in college, the summer before his senior year. His family had taken their annual vacation to Hawaii. Andi’s family just so happened to be vacationing on the same island, in the same hotel. The two met while at a bonfire the first night Aaron had arrived. They spent every day together until Andi’s family headed home. When Aaron arrived home, Andi was on his doorstep waiting. The two had been together ever since.

Aaron’s eyes went soft, hazy as he spoke about his family, his girls. I leaned in, listening to him tell me all about their life. He and Andi had just returned from a long overdue vacation in Greece. Andi had a love for the Mediterranean. The two were reveling in their retirement. Aaron’s oldest granddaughter, Rian was starting college. Rian’s mother, Theresa, Aaron’s youngest had just gotten an exhibit of her own at the art gallery she worked in. She was a brilliant woman, a true force of nature. Aaron’s oldest daughter, Kasey was living in New Hampshire with her partner, Ruth. They just adopted a second puppy.

It occurred to me then that Aaron had stopped talking, my mind wandering, half listening. I felt myself snap back to the moment, his eyes soft and genuine, searching mine. “Where’d you go,” he asked, his voice gentle and calm. Over the years he had asked this of me over and over, my mind constantly wandering away, nudging the soft daydreams of my life. I gently tilted my head. “Do you ever miss it”, I asked, my eyes soft and longing..

“Do I ever miss what?”

“Us.”

He smiled at me, squeezing my hand gently. “I think about it often,” he whispered. “We could have set the world on fire, you and me.”

“Timing’s a bitch,” I replied, a small smile sweeping across my face.

As we sat, gazing into each other’s eyes, Aaron’s fingers gently brushed along the small gold band on my left hand. I felt the tears start again, warm and heavy. I pleaded with them to just dissolve away. I had done enough crying over the past few weeks. My body could not handle much more.

I quickly pulled my eyes from his, my face flushing, the wrinkles of my face creasing into themselves. Aaron pulled his chair around the table and wrapped his arms around me gently, my soft grey hair spilling across my face as I nuzzled in the crook of his arm. I sobbed lightly, soaking my tears into the soft material of his t-shirt. He caressed my hair, rocking slightly, letting me feel everything I needed to without judgment or question.

As the tears subsided I gently pulled myself from his arms, leaning back into my chair. I took a sip of my coffee, now cold and a little bitter. “How long has it been now,” Aaron asked. “Three, four weeks?”

“Four weeks,” I replied. “Jude has been gone four weeks now.” I twirled the small, thin band in between my fingers. “I can’t take it off,” I said. “It just doesn’t feel right.”

“It may never feel right,” Aaron whispered, searching my eyes. “You two were married for what, forty years? That’s a long time, Mel. That’s a hell of a long time.”

“Forty five, actually,” I say, my eyes still misty, now red and swollen.

“My point exactly. Cancer bulldozes it’s way through lives, ripping families apart with no remorse for those who get left behind, the collateral damage. Four weeks is a mere second in the story of your life together. Keep the ring on, Mel. You’re a widow, my love, not a divorcee.”

My eyes felt heavy, my heart aching to beat, small pieces strew about in my chest. My love, my soulmate, my best friend, Jude was gone. I was alone. For the first time. In my entire life.

“Do you remember that time,” Aaron started, his hands still holding mine. “When we almost got arrested in the park?” I looked at him, the sly smile of his boyhood grinning across his face. My eyes lit up as we both burst into laughter.

When Aaron and I were growing up, we would drive around the city at night. We would listen to music and talk, pick out the neighborhoods we thought we could make a family in together when we weren’t dating other people, venting about our significant others when we were.

This particular night we had been driving for hours, up and down the city limits, in and out of beautiful neighborhoods, playing out our potential future. We stumbled across a big park tucked inside of a neighborhood. The night sky was balmy, warm, not a cloud in the sky. The stars twinkled high above us. We pulled a blanket out of the back of Aaron’s car and layed in the grass, tangled up in one another, watching the stars dance against the black. The crickets serenaded us as our skin soaked in the summer night.

Just as we both began to fall asleep, the sprinklers came on, spraying water across the entirety of the park. We were right in the line of fire for one. We ran, howling and laughing to the car, water dripping pools under our feet as our clothes clung to our bodies. The heat of the night mixed with the adrenaline rush from the water caused a surge of hormones in our young, wild selves. In an instant we were stripped of our clothes, our warm bodies pressed against each other in the back seat of the car.

Someone from the neighborhood had made a call to the police, what with the ruckus we’d made. There was a sudden knock on the window, our faces flushed with red, embarrassed and stark naked. The cop, surely reminiscent of his own wasted youth gave us a warning, a minor threat of arrest for indecent exposure. He waited in his car until we’d both dressed and left the park.

Tears streamed down Aaron’s face as we vividly recalled every detail. It felt good to laugh. I looked over at him, the wrinkles in his face giving way to his age. Still beautiful, I thought to myself as he gently swept the tear from his cheek, his face red and happy.

He caught me looking and smiled. “We were good together,” he said. “We really were, me and you.”

“Yes, we were,” I replied, shifting my gaze down. “Too bad we couldn’t ever get it right.”

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. “I’m so sorry that I was young and dumb. I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you everything. I should have been honest when I was ready and not run when I wasn’t.”

I smiled at the thought.

“You were honest,” he continued. “You told me how you felt, Mel. You wrote me before I left that day. I still have the letter. You know that, right? You know that I read it and that it meant everything to me. You know that I wanted to come home to you, right? To finally stop the back and forth. But then -”

“Life,” I said, very matter of fact.

“Life,” he repeated, soft and slow.

My heart swelled. I did know that he loved me as only he could. All these years, our own lives building themselves into perfect portraits, late night fights, empty nests, grand-babies and widowed memories, he had loved me. And I had loved him.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I would not have changed our paths for anything. Jude was my world, my rock, my best friend. He was right where I was meant to spend my life. But our time together, me and Aaron, the wild and free moments, when the world was ours for the taking, we loved with all that we had. Our youth was not wasted on small meltdowns, catastrophic judgments of one another or stupid jealousies. We gave everything we had, even if the moments were fleeting.

I looked at him and placed my hand against his cheek. “Our lives were just as they should have been. Andi has always been the right one for you. She keeps you grounded. You and I, we simply would have floated away.” I smiled at him, soft and caring. “We were wild and carefree then. It was good for us to grow up.”

Aaron’s face softened. “ All those years, stuck together like paper mache in my mind. There was one moment, I wish I had been honest. I was ready to really give it my all, commit. And you were there, open and willing, beautiful and loving. But I ran. I always ran.”

My attention focused. “There was?”

“You had just graduated. That summer before your freshman year. Do you remember?”

The memory of that summer washed over me like a tsunami. Graduation had been wonderful and miserable. I loved school. I felt at home in school. I cried like a baby before we made our way out to the auditorium, to walk the stage one final time. The halls of that school held so many moments of our lives. I feared of losing them one day. I feared that the faint pictures in my mind would somehow wash away, lost forever. Aaron had graduated the year before me. His memory still hung heavy in the halls my senior year.

That evening he had been at my house as my family pulled up the driveway. He was holding a small bouquet of daisies, fresh from the dirt. He stood on the front step, a black blazer on over a crisp, white t-shirt with faded blue jeans. He was the most handsome boy I had ever seen. My heart leapt in my chest. I hadn’t seen him in months. Here he was, waiting for me.

I jumped from the car up the stairs and right into his arms. He swung me around as I nuzzled my face against his neck. He smelled of leather and sandalwood. I breathed him in, drunk on his presence. He set me down softly, took my hand in his and asked me to dinner.

We had a lovely evening, laughing and reminiscing about school. He told me all about his first year of college and how difficult the classes were. Before we knew it, midnight had rolled around, the restaurant turning off the lights around us. We walked along the city streets, hand in hand. We kissed under the moonlight and danced outside of a bar until the sun came up. It was truly magical.

We spent the next two months together doing nothing and everything. I would wake up in the morning to flowers on my windshield, a note saying a good morning. We spent hours in the library, kissing between the stacks. We would eat out at all kinds of exotic places, often finding ourselves in random bathrooms, our hot bodies craving one another.

One hot, summer night, the air sticky and sweet I told Aaron that I loved him. We were laying on the grass in the park, watching Wuthering Heights among dozens of other Emily Bronte fans. My head was resting on his chest, the rise and fall of his breath lulling me to sleep. I whispered it, soft and honest. He brushed his hand through my hair, no words from his mouth.

The following day, he left. He told me that he needed to get back to school, find work and get an apartment. School wasn’t scheduled to start for another three and a half weeks. He left me on my front doorstep, his hands in mine, a gentle kiss on the mouth. I didn’t hear from him again for a year and a half.

I spent the rest of my summer picking up the pieces of my shattered heart. The first boy I had truly loved, my best friend, my confidante, my everything had left. He had left and he did not love me. I was consumed with the pieces of our summer and the dying of my heart.

My eyes burned, misty with tears. I knew that he loved me but that came later. Much later, after he had married Andi. He told me the night my father passed away and he’d come to my mother’s house. We sat and cried, talking about the life my father lead and how much I would miss him. Aaron held me while I sobbed, ugly and red faced. He told me that night that he loved me. I wasn’t naive, thinking that he’d somehow come to realize I was his soulmate and that he would leave the life he had built. Of course not. Andi and I had become friends. I adored her. Nonetheless, the words put all the scattered pieces of my heart back together.

Aaron’s eyes, red rimmed and misty searched my face for something, anything to tell him that I was okay. It occurred to me then that no matter the time or distance between us, we were still wild kids inside, yearning for our youth. We would never be old in the company of one another. Our love, spanning a lifetime, would keep us young.

I smiled at Aaron gently. I gave his hand a tight squeeze and kissed the back of it. We sat in the coffee shop together for another half hour, just like that, quiet, our hands laced between the others. As the sky outside began to blaze a deep mauve across the sky, we packed up our things, heading our separate ways. Aaron leaned down and pulled me in close. I kissed his cheek softly. I smiled at him and whispered “I love you.” Aaron smiled and replied, “I love you too, kid.”  

With that, he turned and headed out the door. I watched him walk slowly down the street to his car, back to his girls, his life. I pulled my purse over my shoulder and, with a deep sigh, left the coffee shop as well. I headed down the street, the opposite direction of Aaron.

My house sat a few short blocks away. I breathed in the balmy, summer air, deep in my lungs. As I made my way up the front porch, sliding into my rocking chair to enjoy the crickets, a small breeze blew against the back of my neck, warm and sweet. I smiled, knowing that it was my Jude. He promised he would find ways to be with me. I whispered back softly, “I miss you, too.”