Time Waits For No Man

Ruin has taught me to ruminate, that time will come and take my love away. This thought is as a death, which cannot choose, but weep to have that which it fears to lose.

William Shakespeare

His thoughts raced as he moved through traffic, slipping back and forth between lanes, vying for the lead. It wouldn’t do for him to be late. He might just as well not show up at all than to show up past the scheduled 1pm. The traffic made him feel trapped, helpless against the passage of time. His anxiety heightened with each glow of the brake lights in front of him.

Glancing at his phone, he fumbled to bring up his texts. He wanted, no he needed to read her message again, as if he may have missed something the first dozen times. He read it aloud, pausing after each sentence to glance back at the road.

“I will be in the city next week and would like to see you. If you’re willing, meet me Thursday afternoon. I will be at “The Wine Works” at 1pm. If you are not there by 1:15, I will leave and you won’t have to hear from me again”

He felt a clinching in his chest as the weight of that last sentence sunk in. He knew if he lost her again, this time it would be forever.

“Hold it together,” he whispered under his breath. In reality he knew he had left himself plenty of time to make it to the café before she arrived but that didn’t calm his racing heart.

He pulled his car into the first spot available, not wanting to risk wasting time competing for a front row space. The thought of wasted time caused yet another wave of guilt to wash over him until he felt he may drown in it. He was tormented by how much time they had missed together, how many years they had lived separate yet connected.

His fierce love for her burned as bright as ever; even his precious, too scarce memories of her refused to fade. In his dreams, the sweet smell of her hair, the softness of her cheek and the angelic tone of her voice had brought him so much joy, temporary as it was.

He spent many mornings fending off the wakefulness that threatened his sweet dream state.

He longed to stay in that place where past mistakes no longer have a hold on you and you are free to laugh and love and feel again. But in the end, the morning always won out and the harsh reality of life came spilling back in like sunshine through an open window.

He rushed to the door and only slowed as he entered the lobby. The clock on the wall confirmed he had made it with time to spare. There was a metal sign near the entry, advising customers to “Please Seat Yourself”.

He started towards a table near the front where he could watch for her arrival, then thought better of it. Although there were fans turning lazily on the ceiling, the air felt stifling to him.

He chose a table out on the patio and sat, breathing in what he realized was his first deep breath in hours.

“Will she recognize me”, he wondered. He, of course, would know her instantly thanks to social media. He had long since disregarded any fear of appearing like a stalker as he poured over her photos and posts. It was his lifeline, what kept him going each day. He, on the other hand, had no presence online whatsoever.

He picked up his phone and tapped on the camera. He would send her a picture to help avoid any awkwardness that may arise. Twenty years had worn more lines on his face than he cared to acknowledge. After a moment of staring into his camera, wondering when he had gotten so old, he tapped his phone off again and set it down, deciding against the selfie.

The glint of sunlight reflecting off the side of a single, glass of Merlot, caught his eye. It was sitting on the edge of the patio bar waiting to be delivered to its proper table.

The sight of the cool liquid made him realize just how dry his throat was. He began to lift his hand to motion to the waiter but then lowered it again, almost immediately.

No, he would wait for her. He would ask her what her preference was and then order the same. He desperately wanted her to know how important she still was to him, how determined he was to make her happy.

His mind began to wander to the last time he had seen her. The sight of her pleading with him not to leave, tears streaming down her face, was forever burned in his memory. He recalled the desperation and hopelessness he had felt as he watched the taxi drive her out of his life.

She didn’t understand then, what made him think she would understand now? All she knew was that he had ended their relationship abruptly, without just cause in her mind. That supposed reality had affected and infected every relationship she had been in since. He saw evidence of that in her online posts, where her pain from the past, though not spoken of directly, had quite obviously tainted her perception of the present. Forgiveness was not a grace he could offer himself. He would most certainly carry the weight of that offense to his grave.

He was haunted by the nagging question of her motive to meet with him now after all of these years. Was her heart finally healed enough to forgive him? Would this lunch date be the first of many more moments together? Or did she just need closure so she could be free to move on with her life? He clung to the strand of hope that this date was a first and not a last. That hope was too thin, however, to fight off the emptiness he felt in his soul.

The swish of the patio door brought him back to the present. It was a young couple holding hands as they searched out the most private table they could find.

“Young love”, he mused, secretly hoping they would fight to hold onto the connection they so obviously shared. If only he had known then what he knows now.

Before the door fully closed, he caught a glimpse of a shock of shiny, black hair. His heart skipped a beat as he wondered if it was her. He stood and reached the patio door in two long strides, grasping the handle and flinging it open to reveal his fate.

There, near the front, looking far more scared and childlike than he had expected, stood the object of his love. Her beauty and youth nearly took his breath away. It took every ounce of his will to not rush to her and scoop her up in his arms as he had done so many times in the past.

No, he had to give her space, allow her to make the first move.

She scanned the room questioningly, unsure of what to do next. He stood frozen in the doorway, holding his breath for what seemed an eternity. Suddenly stopping, as if sensing his presence, she turned and looked at him. He felt as if her deep, blue eyes were able to see straight into his soul, laying him bare. He felt a sharp sting as tears filled his own eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

He waved to her, unsure himself of what to do next. Hesitantly, she made her way across the room, dodging an occasional waiter balancing trays on their palms.

He couldn’t help but notice their side glances at her but who could blame them; she was breathtaking.

When she finally reached him, he stepped aside and held the door for her. She brushed past him and he was nearly overtaken with emotion once again. The longing to hold her and make her know just how sorry he was for his absence nearly choked him.

Standing beside the table he had chosen for them, he realized how very alone he had been just moments earlier. Her mere presence somehow filled him with a long forgotten feeling of hope and joy. She turned her face toward his and awkwardly they attempted a hug. It was clear they would need time to adjust. He opened his mouth to speak but his voice only produced an oddly comical crack, like that of a young boy going through puberty. He regretted not drinking that glass of wine. She let out a slight giggle and even now after nearly twenty years, he thought his heart would melt at the long remembered sound.

He cleared his throat and tried again, “My Little Blackbird”, he whispered, half afraid that if he spoke he would break the spell and she would somehow disappear.

He wanted to say more, planned to say much more but emotions now seemed to have taken his voice.

He knew he had taken the coward’s way out those many years ago. He was supposed to have been her hero but his failures had left her abandoned. Now after all he had put her through, all he could mutter was the childhood name he had given her the first time he laid eyes on her and her raven locks.

“I love you, my Little Blackbird,” he said as he finally managed to find his voice.

The reality of her closeness was almost more than his heart could take. Rejection now would leave him lifeless, void of all hope. He wondered if she knew the power she wielded in this one fragile, moment in time.

Tears were flowing down her still smooth cheeks, stirring up his last memories of her again. Only this time something was changed, she had changed. The despair in her eyes was replaced by a twinkle of something alive and hopeful! Could he dare to believe she was here to restore what he had broken? Could he be so bold as to hope for the forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve?

With a sudden burst of courage he reached for her again. This time, less awkwardly, they connected as she wrapped her thin arms around his neck. Time seemed to stand still as he prayed that this wasn’t just all a dream, a cruel joke that he would wake from at any moment. Only she had the power to spare him the pain he was so fearfully anticipating.

Graciously, she gave him sweet reprieve from his desperate thoughts. Her hair stuck to her moist face as she clung to his neck and whispered through her tears the words he had waited twenty years to hear, “ I love you too…Dad”.

They sat then, the two of them, across the table from each other, attempting to make small talk, both apprehensive of the idea of deeper conversations. They knew those conversations must come but they will require patience. There was so much to explain so much to express, but they had time now.

Time. Once again, the thought of time sent waves of emotion flooding over him. Only now they were feelings of gratitude and hope. Time was no longer his enemy. He would face his fears and make peace with his past and treat time as the precious commodity that it is.

She raised her hand to motion for a waiter. Once again, he noticed the slight blush she caused in the young man’s cheeks. “Please,” she said gently, “Could you bring me a glass of Merlot?”

Then turning to him she gestured questioningly. With a smile, he leaned back in his chair and let out a satisfied sigh as he made the request to the waiter, “Make that two”.