Chapter 3: Love, According to Me
680 Words
Elena POV
I expected the café to be quieter but the espresso machine is hissing, the mugs are banging on the sauces and the Christmas lights are already hung up on the windows although the season is hardly mid December. Daniel waves me over with nonchalance and takes possession of a small table somewhere in the back of the room as though it were his hundredth visit there.
“You look tired,” he says as I sit.
“I danced for three hours.”
That is the reason, says he smiling. “You still came.”
I shrug, peeling off my coat. “You said you’d wait.”
“And I did.”
The bartender calls him by his name. He is on his feet, already reaching to his wallet. I begin to protest, and he is shaking his head.
“I’ve got it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know,” he says lightly. “I want to.”
That is the word, which lies somewhere in my chest.
On the day he returns, he slips a cup in my direction. “I guessed. Vanilla. In case it is wrong, I will claim that it was on purpose.
I take a sip.
It’s right.
“You guessed,” I say.
“I pay attention.”
We do not discuss anything initially. Classes. Teachers. The way Crestwood somehow gets too small and too busy at the same time. Daniel tells me about football, and practice and expectations and how everybody already figures he will end up going somewhere bigger.
“Do you want that?” I ask.
Instead, he bends his head and examines me like he had done in the gym. “You mean more?”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Rather, he remarks, I want what counts.
That should be vague.
It is deliberate instead.
The dialogue drifts in a natural manner as though it always wanted to go in this direction. He questions of ballet—how long have I been dancing, how the showcase is, do I get scared of being looked at.
“Every time,” I admit. “But it’s the good kind of scary.”
He smiles. “So you keep doing it anyway.”
“Of course.”
He leans back, eyes warm. “That’s commitment.”
There is a click in my head, no, not no, no, not no, no. Just a quiet recognition.
To me, love has always translated into appearing. Choosing effort. Being able to remain when it is not convenient.
I say I have a full-time job, my parents tell me.
“Parents always say that.”
They believe that I forget all the rest.
“Do you?”
I think about it. Of the calendars upon my wall. How my days are just together, Square and round.
“No,” I say. “I just prioritize.”
Nodding, that proves something to him.
It is snowing outside—, thin flakes flying through the window, and clinging in the light of the lights. Daniel gazes at it a little, and becomes aware of me again.
You know, just slow down, would you? He says.
I laugh softly. “I don’t know how.”
He grins. “I could help.”
I don’t ask what he means.
As we get up to go, my phone rings. I don’t check it. I already understand that it is most likely a reminder. A schedule. Something waiting.
Daniel opens the door to me, and the cold air comes in.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asks.
I hesitate—just a second.
Then I nod. “Yeah. Same time.”
When I enter into the snow I say this is balance.
Caring about someone, does not imply losing yourself.
Love is one more thing which you know how to create space to.
I do not see the mild change I have already got used to, how easy it is to say yes before worrying what I would have to move to fit him.
- Writer
