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Marie and I went out for coffee today. That’s exactly what we had. Coffee; Nothing more, nothing less. She didn’t know that I was just aching for an excuse to get lost in her gorgeous hair just one more time. In her warm, friendly embrace, I tried to hide my passion – my love.

We sat down and caught up. She was mellow, polite, cordial, and did everything in her power to make this moment as normal as possible. It was not hard for me. I had resolve. I would stare into her eyes, savor her good nature, and mope around the house for a couple hours later on in the day. I asked her:

“What’s Alicia Doing nowadays?”

“She’s an accountant. I don’t see how she doesn’t blow her head off, it’s such a boring job, but that’s just Ally.”

She sipped her coffee, and looked out the window. With her same old concern she asked:

“How’s Jake?”

As many times as I’d heard the question, this time didn’t make it any easier.

“He’s alive, but that barely describes him.”

She grabbed the pot from the center of the table and topped of my white, ceramic cup. I tried to push Jake out of my mind for now, and focus on this one little, stolen moment. Marie was only in the country for a couple of days. She had to fly to Brazil before heading back to France, so I only had a couple of hours. She set the pot down and smiled at me. She said how well I looked.

“It’s the California sun. People turn colors out here you could never imagine in France.”

She laughed, and I laughed. It was the sweetest, most savory, tingling, butterflies in the stomach laugh I had ever laughed. It was the remedy for my woes. It was also the catalyst which ignited my belief that maybe she might still feel something. I searched her face for another hint. God, California was too filthy a place for this beautiful Goddess. Starbuck was a smirch on her reputation. The United States were not civilized enough for her countenance. And I, I could have been just a little better in bed for her liking. Nut no, I wasn’t too bad (thanks to my partial Latin roots).

“You know, Jake asks about you every time I visit. He said he’d make sure I burned in hell if I didn’t tell you he’s still waiting for that kiss.”

She blushed. I wasn’t really sure what it meant, and had no idea how to press the issue.

“Tell Jake,” she said, “that he is most assuredly up on my list.”

There was my opening:

“And who’s on top of that list?”

She took what I felt to be an ill placed sip of her coffee.

“My fiancé.”

I took what she probably assumed to be a necessary sip of my coffee. That solved that question. She was getting married, and I would probably sit in one of the back rows, trying not to sob like a drunken asshole, later on turning into a blubbering drunken asshole at the reception. So I looked into her eyes, and thought to myself fuck it. You’ve got only so many years on this planet, are you going to pass on the only opportunity to stop her from marring this asshole?

“Congratulations. I certainly hope you’ll invite me to the wedding.”

“Do you really want to be there Sam?”

No. No I did not.

“Of course.”

My subconscious was going to kick my ass with a bottle of Rum when I got home. Marie felt all of this. My chest had been pried apart. Nothing was secret anymore.

“Love can only stretch so far, Sam.”

I wasn’t trying to learn a lesson at the time. I knew all of the circumstances and the limits and the differences, but I was too caught up on the similarities to see the truth. I tried to close up. I tried to stick with the matter at hand:

“So, where are you having the wedding?”

Marie refilled her cup.

“In Chartres. And I would be delighted if you came.”

We continued the small talk. Apparently this man’s name was Jean. And I was sure the typical Jean was going to match quite badly with the lovely, smart, funny Marie quite terribly. I said nothing.

I hugged her one last time, and this time it was the pain of half a planet’s distance keeping us apart that made the moment so strong. It was the closing of the door of opportunity – the sealing of the window of our romance.

There was a message on the answering machine when I got home, and I called Marie immediately.

“Yes Sam?

“Marie, I- I have to – oh god.”

What is it Sam?

“It’s uh – it’s Jake, he-“

I couldn’t say it.

“I’ll cancel my flight. I’m coming over Sam. Just have a drink and I’ll be there as fast as I can.

I closed my eyes, and bowed my head, and prayed to my God.

God, I don’t pray as much as I should. I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done. Please let mom be wrong. Please let Jake be okay. And if he’s not, please…give him back…