Page 19 of You Met Me There

She smiles. “Yeah. We both look pretty different compared to the old days, huh?”

“Yup.” I nod and move my eyes around the counter, not sure what else to say.

She fills in the gap. “I like your hair.”

“Thanks,” I say, smiling at her and reaching up to touch my waves.

Aliana beams. “Juliet will be happy to see you. Are you going over there now? I can give you the address.”

I pick at my nails, unsure what I want to do now. The sound of the espresso machine reaches my ears. “You know, I might. But I might sit a little with my latte first.” I chuckle nervously. “It’s been nine years. What’s another few minutes, right?” I rub an itch on my forehead and shift my weight from one foot to the other, my nerves already skyrocketing.

Her brows furrow. “Of course,” she says, her voice slightly skeptical. She looks back at the guy making my drink, then grabs a piece of paper from under the counter. A pen appears as well, and she scribbles something down before handing the paper over to me. I take it. “That’s Jules’s address and her phone number.”

My shoulders relax the slightest bit as I examine the paper more thoroughly than needed. I hold the paper up. “Thank you for this.”

She nods, with something like hope playing over her features as her dark curls bounce from the movement.

The young man making my coffee calls my order from the other end of the counter, so I say goodbye to Aliana, grab my matcha and muffin, and walk out to sit in my car.

Once I’m off the street, I fold in on myself, feeling small, like I no longer belong in this town—and I suppose I don’t. But I want to belong somewhere, I just … don’t know where that is exactly. Could I ever belong here again? I’m nervous to approach Jules; the future between us is full of unknowns. How will she receive me? How will she react?

I can only pray I’m able to assemble enough courage to face my sister again.

Finally, my nerves have simmered as I’ve reached the bottom of my flower-flavored green drink. The fear of an oncoming panic attack sits on the back burner, threatening to boil over, but I breathe and tell myself I’m okay to keep it at bay.

Jules must hate me for what I did, for disappearing like that. Why wouldn’t she?

And my parents. I wish they were still in Maple Lake so I could get the hard part over with, between everyone at once. But I’m also relieved to know I won’t be facing them today.

And my poor older brother, Tyler. He didn’t deserve any of this. He was always the kindest brother, always taking time to include me in the fun when he could.

Sun rays shine through my window, caressing my cheek and warming my face. It soothes me. I close my eyes, breathing in this feeling and letting it cover me—the feeling of peace, even if it will only last for a second.

When I open my eyes, I think I’m finally ready to take a walk near the lake. I doubt I’ll actually be brave enough to talk to Jules today, but maybe I can at least scout out where she lives so I know where to find her tomorrow.

It’s the perfect day for a walk, and I’m enjoying the way the breeze carries an earthy scent as it plays with loose tendrils of my hair. The lake, situated at a bend in the road not far past the café, is wide and oblong—like an oval, but bent more like a kidney bean. Large houses sit on the far side of the glistening blue lake, with large decks and short yards that reach right to the water’s edge. A paved walking path loops around the lake, with lampposts, benches, and the occasional wooden picnic table nestled near the trail. For a second I imagine what it might have been like to take walks here and picnic with my sister. What might she be like now? An adult, deep in her profession—maybe in a relationship like myself?

She’s going to hate that I’ve come with my shovel to dig up the past.

My sandals make flopping sounds as I walk. Six green-headed ducks make a water landing, flapping their wings against the blazing sun, and I smile at the image. I forgot how beautiful Maple Lake is, with its calm moments, its vivid colors, and its larger-than-life trees and rolling mountains. I keep walking, taking it all in.

As the houses get closer, I hear children laughing and squealing. On the horizon I spot a few people in the distance. There’s a blue house with shutters painted a darker blue than the rest of the structure, and in the backyard a woman plays with two little boys, who I assume are her kids. The smaller one—probably around four-years-old—clumsily throws a ball toward the woman, and it flops onto the vivid green grass, rolling toward the water. A long-haired white dog runs circles around all of them. The woman prances after the ball, catching it before it can get too far.

The kids squeal, clapping their hands to show their excitement. It’s adorable. The woman’s long brown hair hangs across her face as she laughs with the kids, who wait patiently for their game to continue. Before tossing the ball back into the yard, she slides her hand behind her neck, pushing the long strands of her full chocolate-colored waves to the side. Even from this distance—some twenty yards away—the smile that I once knew as well as my own appears, red-cheeked and full of joy.

I halt in my tracks, one foot still raised above the ground, and I stumble to catch my footing. I attempt another step forward, but my feet feel glued to the path, like quicksand has formed in the cement. That woman … It’s⁠—

My heart races, eyes beginning to burn, my chest tightening under the pressure.

She’ll hate me for running away.

Running away.

Disappeared.

Past.

Hate Me.