I met him at a sidewalk café. I don’t know why I was there, sitting at a table under an awning while the rain poured down, occasionally hitting me with big drops of water. The rain had started a couple of minutes ago, but I had been too lazy to get up and move inside. I didn’t really see reason to, as well, since inside was crowded and noisy and all I wanted was peace and quiet, to sort out my thoughts. And it wasn’t like I minded getting wet. I kind of liked the drumming of the rain on the canopy. I was looking out at the street, watching the people scurry by when he passed my street side seat.

He glanced at me and looked away, as people do when they encounter strangers on the street. I noticed him the same way he noticed me, just as a passer-by. My thoughts went back to my family. I, like almost everyone these days, come from a broken, dysfunctional home, although I had enjoyed a happy childhood. I had gotten over any problems my family situation had caused me early on in my life, but thinking about it sometimes left me blue, especially if I had spoken to either parent lately. Life hadn’t treated them very kindly of late, and it hurt me sometimes.

I was thinking about my classes and my non-existent boyfriend when a voice startled me.

“Mind if I join you?”

I looked up, nonplussed. Had I met the only other person in this city nutty enough to sit outside in the rain?

“Yes, sure, go ahead,” I answered. I didn’t see any reason to dispel him.

“Great. I’ll just run inside for a coffee and then I’ll join you. “

I shook my head as he walked inside. I wondered where this would head. I was between boyfriends at the moment, due to my lacklustre disposition of late.

The man came back, carrying a cup in one hand and a cookie in the other. He carefully set his coffee down and extended his hand for a handshake.

“I’m Thomas,” he said as he sat down.

“Hi, I’m Natalie.”

“I saw you sitting out here when I passed by and I figured I had to meet anyone crazy enough to sit out in the rain.”

“It’s not raining under here,” I said, ready to defend myself.

“I know. That’s not what I meant. You see, I often do this myself, and I’ve never seen someone else do the same. Has no one looked at you as if you were crazy yet?”

“To be honest, I haven’t been paying attention to other people. I’ve been caught up in my own thoughts.”

I must have grimaced unconsciously, because he said, “That bad, huh?”

“No, not really.” I found myself telling him all about my family, telling them that no matter how much I loved my parents, I sometimes wanted to scream when they got into it again.

He nodded from time to time, then thoughtfully said, “You know, that a typical reaction for someone like you.”

What do you mean, someone like me, I was thinking, you hardly know me!

He smiled. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, You don’t even know me! But trust me on this. I have this theory that links people’s characters to the type of coffee they drink.”

My disbelief showed plainly on my face.

He laughed. “Here, I’ll show you,” he said. “This cappuccino that you’re drinking makes you laid-back, but it also shows you care about yourself.”

“Why,” I started, then stopped as he raised a hand to cut me off.

“Here, I’ll show you. That about ordering a cappuccino is true. Look around you. Businessmen order large drip coffee or espresso, if they need to get particularly jazzed-up. The experimental will order anything from a mocha coffee to a banana-blueberry espresso.”

“Banana-blueberry? Does that even exist? Where did you come up with this?” I asked, impressed.

“I used to spent weekends and vacations with my father, going to baseball games, museums, you name it, with a coffee house before and after each outing. He read the newspaper or a book, I, being less of a reader, spent the time studying people and their habits.

But let me go on. I know you’re a dreamy type because you can sit here, oblivious to the world, and you care about yourself because you’re cutting back on your sugar intake. I know you’re doing that because you’ve got another packet of sugar lying next to your cup. People ordering cappuccinos may be laid back, but they usually succeed in taking just the sugar they need. Only a dreamy person could take too many, but would realize her error when she proceeded to put the sugar in the coffee itself.

That’s my theory. What do you think?” he asked cheerfully.

“Impressive,” I answered. And I was impressed. This guy made me laugh, and more importantly, he made me want to know more about him. I felt my lethargic mood lifting as we chatted on. I told him all about my job, my classes, my friends and my family. He was just as good a listener as he was a talker-which is a rare thing, I can tell you. He nodded encouragingly, mmm-ed in all the right places and never said, “Yes, really?”

I’d hate to use a cliché, but the hours did flow by. I only realized it was far past dinnertime when my stomach started to rumble. We had moved on by then and were walking the streets. The rain had let up and the people were coming back, though most were still in a hurry. Thomas saw this little Italian restaurant and pulled me towards it, as if it were the most normal thing in the world that I go eat with him.

We were seated at a little corner table with a candle between us, and were soon brought bread and butter. When Thomas picked up the knife, a transformation took place. You'd think he'd never buttered a piece of bread before. Not because he made a mistake (how can you make mistakes-it's bread and butter, not rocket science) but because he placed his full attention upon the task at hand. Maybe I should have felt annoyed, since that meant he forgot my existence, at least for a moment, but I didn't. It was fascinating to see him work like that, to see him take his time and do it right.

I realized that that was what made him special. No matter what he did - whether it was talking, listening, or eating- Thomas gave it his full attention. The only exception was walking: he could walk and talk at the same time, like all human beings. This quality was what made him shine out, in a world where people communicated poorly and took increasingly less time for the more mundane things in life. My grandpa used to eat like that. After we had said grace and started eating, he would focus on his meal and forget his surroundings. The minute he had placed his knife and fork on the plate, signalling that he was done, he'd re-enter the conversation.

My grandpa had died last year, following my grandma, who had passed away almost a year earlier. I still missed him. I think that was one of the reasons I liked Thomas so much.

I learned little about him as the conversation went on, although he mentioned his father every so often. Finally I plucked up the courage to ask him outright.

“So, what about you? What do you do? Do you have brothers? Sisters? A mother?”

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “That’s a lot of questions,” he said.

“I know. You’ve made me curious. I’ve been telling all about me, but I want to know about you now.”

Thomas looked at me for a while, making me nervous. Finally he smiled and relented.

“Okay. I’m the younger child of two parents that aren’t together anymore. I don’t talk to my older brother, Henry, much, but he’s much doted on by my parents. While my childhood wasn’t happy, it wasn’t really unhappy either. I was an awkward child.

I work in sales, but I’d rather not talk about my job. I’m 25 years old, never been married, been in serious relationships but haven’t found the right girl yet. I don’t have any children either. What more do you want to know?” He had delivered this little speech with a straight face, but when he saw the nonplussed look on my face, he cracked up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I hate introducing myself. I figure if I give a little summary, people will stop asking me about myself and start talking about them again.”

I smiled. I could see where he was coming from, although I was determined to make him tell me more about himself. The rest of the evening, however, I didn’t get a chance. He skilfully led the conversation to other things, each and every time I tried to ask him something. I didn’t realize this till much later, though. Thomas had walked me home (it was no trouble, he insisted) and I was lying in bed reading when I suddenly realized I hadn’t succeeded in finding out more about him!

For some reason, instead of putting me off, it intrigued me. I ran our evening through my head, time and again, searching for some clue to tell me more about him. Finally, I put it to rest, and decided to wait and see if he would call me before lying awake all night searching for clues.

Decisions, however, are easier made than acted upon. This eternal truth, proven countless times, was proven yet again that week. I thought of Thomas often. These thoughts often brought a smile and a chuckle to my lips. Although it was against my nature, I caught myself waiting besides the phone, not wanting to miss his call. Finally, I told myself this was madness. If, if! he called, he would certainly call again, or leave a message, if I happened to be out.

However, when I had finally dragged myself out of the house, I felt anxious the whole time. What if, what if kept running through my head. I hadn’t even made it down the block when I turned around and headed back home. And, against all odds, the phone was ringing when I swung open the door. I skidded over to the phone and answered it, breathlessly.

“Hello?”

“Hi Natalie, this is Thomas. Remember me?”

“Of course I remember you,” I said warmly. Although I wasn’t about to tell him how I had been waiting to hear from him, I figured a little encouragement couldn’t hurt. “The guy with the coffee theory.”

He laughed. “That’s right. Would you like to test that theory again? Go and drink another cup?”

“Sure. How about tomorrow at eleven? Same place?”

“I’ll see you then.” He hung up the phone with a click. My heart beating in my throat, I did the same, then sagged on the couch. He’d called! We had a date! Well, sort of. Oh my gosh, what would I wear? I laughed and did a little dance, right there in the living room, out of sheer joy. Finally things were going my way!

I called my best friend, Jenny, who promised to come over that evening and help me pick out an outfit. I knew that if I didn’t ask her advice, I’d stand in front of the mirror all morning, trying on all my clothes and discarding every single item. And I’d probably end up wearing the first thing that had come out of my closet.

When Jenny arrived, we went straight to the bedroom. While I opened my closet and started pulling out items, she sat on the bed and watched me hold up clothes.

“So, what’s he like? No, not that one, that makes you look fat.”

I made a face as her as I threw the offending item on the bed. Although Jenny was my best friend, she could be very blunt at times.

I held up a short blue skirt. “Thomas? He’s nice. He has this amazing theory on life, based on, get this, the kind of coffee people drink. And he really listens to people. He focuses his attention on the task at hand. That makes him, real, I guess the word is.”

“Natalie! You’re smitten. Why didn’t you tell me it had gone this far?”

I considered her words. Was I smitten?

“No! Besides, I don’t think smitten even exists any more. That’s old fashioned.”

“You, Natalie, are quaint. You are old fashioned. You are smitten.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But what do you think about this skirt?”

After Jenny had gone home I thought about her words once again. Smitten? Was I falling in love with Thomas? It wasn’t impossible - I’m quite impulsive where my feelings are concerned. It kept churning through my head when I took a bath, and lay on the couch idly flicking the TV channels, and while I was in bed, trying to read a book. I finally gave up and flung the book far away from me.

“I don’t care! What if I am smitten?” I asked defiantly. That made me feel better, and I hopped out of bed to retrieve my book. I was reading again in seconds, engrossed in minutes.

I was too nervous to sleep much the next morning. I was up shortly after the break of dawn; up and ready to go. I had so much energy running through my body I changed into jogging clothes and ran a couple miles. When I got back, I quickly showered and dressed. It was still only 8:30. What was I going to do? I looked at my appearance one more time in the mirror, then decided to get out of here. Even if the date wasn’t until eleven o’clock, I could go to my favorite bookstore and browse there until it was time. And maybe he would be early, as well.

I decided to walk - the coffee shop was a distance away, but walking would pass the time. I actually enjoyed it. The brisk air, the scurry of people on their way to work, funny scenes. Outside of one apartment building, a young man called to the open window a floor up: “Honey? I forgot my..” Before he could finish his sentence, a brown paper bag was thrown out of the window. The man caught it like it was the most normal thing in the world and thanked his wife, then made his way through the throng of people.

Although I walked slowly, it was still only 9.15 when I arrived at the coffee shop. I decided against a first cup of coffee and went on to the mall, just a five minute walk. I settled in a chair in my favorite bookstore, with a pile of new books next to me, and read an hour away. I love how you can sit as long as you want in a bookstore, browse through all the books, sample one or two and just pass the time. No one tells you to move on, no one asks you if you’re looking for something or need help, unless you look desperately in need of assistance.

After an hour, I started. 10.30 already! I jumped out of my seats, hastily returned the books to their proper shelves and almost ran out of the store. Outside, I caught my breath and laughed at myself. I energetically started towards the little shop, determined to find a seat under the awning. And there I was when Thomas walked up to the little shop. He wasn’t in a hurry, although his eyes were scanning the crowd. When he saw me, he smiled. A cappuccino, right? he mouthed, then went through the door to stand in line. When he emerged again, he was carrying two cups of coffee and also two deluxe chocolate cookies, my favorite. He sat down next to me, handed me my cookie, and proceeded to munch on his. Eventually he realized I was staring at him, so he said, “What?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. “You…how do you know I love chocolate cookies?”

“Doesn’t every girl like chocolate? Besides, in that little restaurant, you choose a dessert with chocolate. I figured you’d like it.”

I grinned. “Thanks.” We began talking effortlessly, as if we had known each other all our lives. I even got Thomas to tell me more about himself-although he still honoured his rule not to reveal too much. Twelve o’clock passed, then one. At two-thirty he said, “I’m getting hungry. Are you free for lunch?”

“Lunch?” I asked stupidly. I had been so engrossed I hadn’t looked at my watch. I did so now, and once again jumped out of my seat.

“I’m late! I was supposed to meet my mother for lunch at two! Oh my gosh, I’m really late. Thomas, thanks, it was great, but I have to run. Bye!”

And off I was, running like someone pursued. Of course I was much too late, and of course my mom was annoyed, but once I had caught my breath and told her why I was late, she relented.

“This is the happiest I’ve seen you in months, dear.”

I looked at her. Maybe she was right. I did feel better, more energetic, than I had in months. Seemed like lately, I had been going through the motions of living, without actually living myself. It felt great to be alive again. I knew my blue eyes were sparkling as I answered her comment.

“I know. Thanks to Thomas.”

This comment proved true over the next couple of weeks. I ran from class to work to class again, spending every free minute with Thomas. He filled an emptiness inside me I hadn’t known what to do about. I never thought I’d lose myself in a relationship like that; I was always the straightforward one, the one not willing to change herself for a man. And while I wasn’t changing myself, not per se, I found myself accommodating myself to his wishes. If Thomas wanted to go to the movies, we went, no matter if I had an important class the next day. If he wanted to stay home, at either my or his place, we did. It didn’t matter if I was dying for a night out: I curbed my desires and tried to be happy. Well, that’s not fair. I was happy, deliriously happy at that.

I should have known it was too good to be true.

Some time later, I was in my kitchen, getting dinner ready. I had taken quite a while over this evenings meal: I wanted it to be special. It was our first anniversary and Thomas had promised to stop by as soon as he was done at work. Only he didn’t. It was eight-thirty before he showed up, and the food had long since congealed in the pots and pans. I was standing at the counter, with my apron still on, staring into the distance. I was worried, to tell the truth. It wasn’t like him to be so late, I thought. So that’s why when I answered the doorbell, the first words out of my mouth weren’t “Why are you so late?”. They were, “Are you okay? Has anything happened?”

Thomas looked at me strangely. “What do you mean?”

I slowly became annoyed and angry. “You were supposed to be here hours ago. Don’t you remember? Our “anniversary dinner”?”

“Oh that. Sorry, I just forgot.”

“You forgot?” I trailed off as Thomas brushed past me, indifferently. Something was wrong and I didn’t know what. Thomas wasn’t acting at all like himself.

“Natalie, we have to talk.”

Oh no, not that phrase, I thought. I had heard it a few times to often to not suspect something nasty was about to happen. And I was right. I sat down across from Thomas, and waited for the bad news I knew would follow.

“Natalie, I’ve been transferred. To Europe. I’m leaving next week.”

I sat there, shocked. “Europe?” I whispered. I don’t know much about geography, but I knew that Europe was a long ways off.

“For how long?” I said, praying for him to say, a month, maybe two. Instead, he looked at the floor and said, “At least two years, probably more.”

“So this is it,” I softly said, in shock.

Thomas nodded. “I’m sorry Nat, I love you, you know that. But I can’t ask you to wait for me, not for so long. So this is it.” He handed me a letter, then stood up and walked out of my life forever.

I must have sat there on that couch for almost an hour, staring into space, my whole world turned upside down. I then opened the letter, but found I couldn’t read it. Tears were streaming down my cheeks so fast I was afraid of smudging the letter so bad it wouldn’t even be readable anymore.

Eventually I went to lay down on the bed. I stared at the ceiling for too long, dreading the moment when I had to open the envelope and find out why this had happened. But like all bad moments, this was unavoidable. I slowly opened the envelope. Inside was a short note.

Dear Natalie,

I didn’t want this to happen, I didn’t even see it coming - I never would have gotten involved with you if I had! You’re so much more than a casual flirt: I think I love you. But even so, I can’t ask you to wait for me, not for so long. A couple months, maybe, but two years? I can’t do that to you. You’re much to special to spend two years -or more- missing me.

I think it’s for the best if we don’t speak again. Please remember I love you. As they say, “remember me kindly”.

Thomas

Natalie choked back sobs, then did the only thing she could: she called her mom. After hearing her daughters voice, her mom came rushing over, then did what only mothers can do: hold and comfort. She didn’t say a thing, just held Natalie as she cried and talked, talked and cried some more. Finally her tears seemed to dry out and she sat up.

“Are you okay?” her mom asked gently.

“I think so, yes, for the moment,” she replied with a wan smile. “It’s just the shock.”

“I know sweetie. But it will get better. You’ll always have a soft spot for Thomas, which is good. But he’s right, you know that. Two years is too long to be apart. Eventually you’ll look back on this, glad for the good memories.”

Natalie nodded, though she only half believed it. Her heart was torn apart and it didn’t feel like it was ever going to heal.

But of course her mother was right. Months later she was getting through whole weeks without feeling sad and desperate. Thomas didn’t fade from her mind, but he wasn’t as prominent as before.

Eight months passed, and Natalie thought less and less of Thomas. She understood his reasons, even if she wasn’t sure he was right. What did two years matter when you had found your soul mate? She was determined to wait for him, and prove her love to him. In the meantime, her days were filled with college, work and the occasional friend. It was just like the time before she met Thomas. Though the new found sparkle in her eyes wasn’t completely gone, it was more subdued. She carried a cloud with her now: one that wasn’t grievous itself but just a reminder of sadness faced.

Still more weeks later, she had just about shook off the last aura of sadness surrounding her, when her best friend asked her to come with her to a party. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go, as her friend lived in a different city so she wouldn’t know any one else there, but she figured that the worst that could happen was a boring night. And God knows she had enough of those!

She met her friend as planned, all spruced up, and walked to the apartment where the party was being held. Once there, it seemed not to be as bad as she had feared; she actually had quite a good time. Until the last bit, when a girl showed some photo’s. In them, Natalie saw Thomas.

She managed to ask the girl how she knew Thomas before sadness overcame her. Through a fog, she heard the girl say that Thomas was her cousin. They spent a lot of time together, she said.

Natalie felt she had to ask. “How’s Thomas doing in Europe?”

“Europe?” The girl returned, quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t he in Europe?”

“No.” the girl answered, looking at her queerly. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

“No, I just need some fresh air. Could you step outside with me for a minute?”

The girl looked baffled, but nodded.

Once they pushed through the people to the fresh night air, Natalie turned to the girl, whose name she didn’t even know.

“I’m Natalie. I was Thomas’ girlfriend for a while, until he was transferred to Europe.”

“But he hasn’t been transferred,” the girl interrupted. Natalie held up her hand. “Let me tell you what I know,” she said, “then you can tell me the truth.”

“Thomas and I fell in love a while ago, and we soon moved into a semi-serious relationship. We were happy together, until almost a year ago, when he came home with distressing news: he was being transferred to Europe. He effectively broke up with me that evening. He said it wasn’t fair to me, asking me to wait for him, when his job required a two-year minimum stay. Now you tell me.”

“Thomas hasn’t been transferred to Europe. He lives in the next city and I still see him regularly. His parents as well.”

“And Henry too, I suppose,” Natalie said with some bitterness.

“Henry?”

Natalie thought, this girl must think I’m a total nutcase. Why is she looking at me like that?

“Natalie, Henry’s dead. He died when he was fourteen.”

“But Thomas told me that he was the youngest child of two parents who lavished most of their attention on their oldest son, Henry!”

The girl looked at Natalie for a long minute, then spoke.

“It doesn’t surprise me he told you that. Henry might have been dead, for their parents, he was very much alive. His room and his belongings were not to be disturbed, even his coat still hangs in the hall.

Thomas was, well, strange as a child. While his parents loved him as best as they could, they loved his brother more. Even after he died, he was more important to them than their living youngest son. I’ve always wondered what for effect that had on Thomas.

You know, he hasn’t been able to stay together with any girl for very long. I think that he wants affection and love so badly, he goes from one girl to another. He’s not able to trust that one girl will be capable of giving him everything he needs.

I have a great time with him, when I see him”, she continued, “but I always have to take the initiative. He never calls me to invite me over, I always have to call him. He never sounds happy to hear me, but yet we have a good time when we do get together.

I guess losing his parents to his dead brother must have done something to him, something that led to this scenario of moving from girl to girl, always restless, always looking for love.” The girl paused, then said, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts, okay? If you want to talk to me, I’ll be inside.” She walked away.

Natalie was left, staring into the darkness surrounding her. After a while, her friend came out into the cool night air and took her home.

She zonked out as soon as she got home. She lay on her bed for what seemed like the better part of a day, even if it was in reality only a couple of hours. Her friend looked in on her every once in a while, and finally coaxed her to talk. Natalie told her what the girl had said and what the implications were. When she was done, her friend asked, “Do you want to find Thomas?”

“I don’t know,” Natalie said. On the one hand, she did, if only to give him a piece of her mind. But on the other hand, did she want to hear that she hadn’t meant all that much to him after all?

It was two weeks later that Natalie got her first glimpse of Thomas since he had left her. She whirled and ducked into an alley just to avoid him. Her heart was thumping. I thought this kind of thing only happened in movies! she thought, standing rock still. When she dared to peek around the corner, he was gone. He left me, without even the courage to formally dump me, and I’m hiding in alleys? This is wrong! she thought. Her chest burned with righteous anger all the way home.

She had resolved to forget him, and had thrown herself into her classes once again, when a knock sounded on her door. She opened it to find Thomas on the other side. For a moment, she was speechless.

“You..”

“Me,” Thomas offered. “Can I come in?”

Natalie looked at him for a moment, then nodded and lead the way. She did not offer him anything to drink, but sat in her favorite chair, leaving him the couch.

“Nat, I heard you met Veronica..”

“Who?” Natalie asked, stupefied for a moment.

“My cousin. She told you I wasn’t in Europe and that Henry was dead. It must have been quite a shock.”

Natalie nodded, not trusting her voice. Now was not the time to start crying!

“Look, Natalie, I’m sorry I hurt you. I just couldn’t deal with it, with you..” his voice trailed off.

“With me? You couldn’t deal with me loving you? So you took the coward’s way out and told me you were being transferred, and that you didn’t think it was fair to me to continue our relationship? You actually made it seem like this was an honorable sacrifice on your part!”

He looked at the ground. “I know, and I’m not proud of it. But you made me realize something. I’ve been so scared of love I’ve been running from every girl who seems to love me.” He looked up. “You know, I’ve been in therapy for the last few months. I’ve still got a long way to go, but I’ve realized I have a problem.”

“Thomas, why are you here? I mean, it’s great you’ve realized you’ve got a problem, but what does that have to do with me?”

He hung his head. “You’re right. Natalie, I wanted to apologize. I realize we can’t have a second chance after what I did to you, but I really am sorry I hurt you so much, especially since what we had was special..” his eyes were pleading.

Natalie hardened her heart. “It was special, yes, but it isn’t anymore. Thomas, I think you need to go now. There is no ‘we’ anymore, thanks to you. That is in the past, and it needs to stay there.”

Thomas stood up immediately, and began apologizing again. “You’re right. I should never have come.” He put on his coat and had his hand on the doorknob when he shyly asked if he could leave his new phone number. “You know, just in case.”.

Natalie wavered, then let him write on the pad next to the phone. He left without saying another word.

Natalie sank back on the couch when he had left. Thoughts whirred through her head, dizzying her and making her head ache. After a while, pity began to replace her anger. What could it have been like to grow up without love, she wondered, thinking about her own love-filled childhood. Poor Thomas. No wonder he turned out the way he did…

Natalie held out for another five minutes. Then she sighed, picked up the phone and dialled.

“Hi Thomas, it’s me…”