The waitress placed the Diet Coke with a lemon wedge on the rim of the glass in front of me. I smiled warmly and thanked her in what I hoped was a particularly grateful tone.
We were such a large group that there was no way that the waiting staff wasn't at least a little bit overwhelmed. Hell, I was overwhelmed on their behalf.
And on my own behalf, as well, I can't lie.
Social events, in general, always made my palms a little sweaty. A social event where the "social" aspect of it was going out for dinner with the entire social psychology department, took me from perspiration to desperation.
I took a sip of my drink and internally sang at the comfort it provided. But that feeling lasted only until I looked at Angela, who was sitting across from me.
She was making... a face.
That was the only adequate way I was able to describe what she was doing. Was she okay? Should I call an ambulance? Her mouth was pinched into an almost non-existent line and her eyes were about three times larger than usual.
I shot her my what the hell face and prayed that a faculty member didn't intercept it and think I was sending it to them.
If that happened, I was going to have to give Ang a piece of my mind later.
She rolled her eyes dramatically, like I was the one who was acting strange right now. Finally, in an action that actually made some sense to the average human, she pulled out her phone, typed rapidly, and then held her phone up.
Okay, that I understood.
I took my phone out of my purse. It was on a medium volume, in theory but not in reality. No volume setting existed that would make it possible to hear the dings in the midst of the bustling restaurant.
Angela: Why did you order Coke? Are you sure you want to chance being gassy with Will sitting next to you?
Oh god.
The nerve of her.
On so many levels, this was so Angela.
First, she spoke against Diet Coke. Who the hell does that?
Second, she brought up the g-word. Mind your business.
And third, and perhaps most offensive, she mentioned the name of someone who is sitting right. Next. To. Me.
Even though I really didn't think Will was the type of person to look at someone's phone, his eyes may have wandered, and if I didn't shield my phone as soon as I took it out, we could have had a real awkward situation on our hands.
Only because I'd find it embarrassing. Not because Will would make me feel awkward.
Will was one of the department's post-docs. Translation for non-academic folks: he already completed a PhD and was currently in his first research position since he's graduated. I didn't know him that well on a personal level, and yet I felt like I did, because he was always so friendly to me.
Well, to everyone.
But also to me.
All of us first-year master's students thought he was literally divine and there were rumours that some faculty members actually argued about which projects Will got assigned to work on.
I also maybe, sort of, kind of, had a teensy, tiny, pretty much nonexistent crush on him.
But enough about that for now.
Me: Shush.
Angela: Shush? I didn't say a word!
I shoved my phone back into my purse and made a point of looking at Angela as I did so.
"Guys, this is so well-deserved," Amira, a fellow student, said. "Let's enjoy ourselves tonight. It's been a good year so far and we are so close to the finish line. Just have to get through our thesis defense and we got ourselves a shiny master's degree!"
"Amen to that. But please, can we keep the school-related talk to a minimum?"
That was Adam, another student in our cohort.
"Why did you look at me when you said that?" I asked.
Should I be offended? Because I was. But only slightly.
"Puh-lease, you have to ask?" Angela said. My best friend, ladies and gentlemen. "You were asking Will questions about stats on the drive over."
I wanted to retort "Did not!" like a five-year-old, but that would have been a lie. I totally did ask Will questions (yes: plural) of the sort. So sue me. I was nervous. A few of the grad students who had cars drove all the carless wonders to the restaurant. Will got stuck with Angela and I and I sat in the front seat next to him.
And I felt jittery the entire fifteen minutes.
"I don't mind, really," Will said. "I'm always down to talk stats."
He was looking at me from the side with a bright smile and blushed cheeks. That was one of the things I found so endearing about him. He was tall and had a rich voice and had light brown hair that was slightly longer on the top and a tattoo on his inner bicep. Yet he blushed.
I looked away quickly after meeting his gaze. I had to keep this silly schoolgirl crush under wraps. There already had been a few times where Will and I were in a room alone working on a project proposal and I found myself acting flirty.
Yeah, that couldn't happen.
I wasn't sure what the protocol was for dating fellow students, but I didn't want to find out.
Besides, my feelings weren't serious enough to actually want to date him.
Just some attraction, some butterflies, and some blushing.
But god, did it ever feel good to feel this way again.
Did it ever feel good to know that I could feel this way about someone else.
"I just spoke to the manager and they advised us to not order any pizzas," Dr. Fielding, one of my professors advised. She was going from table to table to deliver her message. "They only have one oven and they already have a large order from the party on the other side. Apparently, it's a hockey team, and I can only imagine how much they could eat,"
In the back of my mind, I heard the voices of Will, Adam, and Amira thank her and make small talk.
Angela didn't say anything, because she was busy looking at me.
"I'm okay," I mouthed.
"You sure?" she mouthed back.
I nodded.
Yeah. I was.
I really was.
And I should be. Because I had a lot of time to become okay.
It was March, and both the academic year and hockey season were coming to a close. I guess it made sense, then, that this would be the first time that Taylor and I would be in the same place since November.
Since that stormy November night, when I found out that Taylor was seeing someone and where our friendship ended.
Did you hear that?
I'm sure you didn't. Because that was the sound of my heart not breaking.
Thinking his name and picturing his face didn't hurt me like it once did. Slowly but surely, over the course of the last eight months, Taylor Hudson became someone who I was desperately in love with to someone that I loved.
Yes. I had accepted that a part of me would always love him.
But in the way that you hold other things that are fond to you in your heart.
Like your first friend that you met in kindergarten.
Or your favourite stuffed animal or special blanket. I had both.
It was more complicated than that, though. Because even though I felt healed from all my wounds, I didn't feel whole.
Was that really how things were going to end between us? Were we really going to let one of the best friendships we've both ever had end because of a broken heart?
I couldn't be sure.
And there was only one way that I could find that out.
I had to see him in person.
That was the only way to know how I felt about him. It was one thing to accept how I felt about the only-exists-in-my-mind Taylor and a totally other ballpark to see how I'd react to the real deal.
I knew what I had to do.
"Ang, if the waitress comes to take our orders, tell her I'll have penne with vodka sauce."
Without waiting for her to do anything other than nod, I got up from my chair.
And almost tripped. Shit. It had deceptively tall legs.
The other three gave me variations of the same, bewildered look. Crap. I had probably been zoned out for the past five minutes and for all I knew, they could have been talking about me right in front of my face.
"I'll be back quickly," I said.
"Want me to come with you?" Angela asked.
Of course she knew what I was doing. She too me too well.
"No, I'm good."
The restaurant was huge. It was pretty much a landmark in the city, with an open area for general customers, as well as huger than huge rooms that could be rented out for private parties.
I weaved through the numerous tables in the dining area and almost got wacked in the face by a kid who excitedly threw his hands back in the air.
Jesus.
Calm it, little dude.
Finding the other party room was surprisingly easy. I mean, it did have a large Toronto Saints sign standing on an easel. You'd think the team would want to be incognito, but I guess the sign was good advertisement.
See, even the Saints like our food.
So what, was I just supposed to walk in, uninvited, unannounced? A security guard was standing near the door, but I didn't want to bug him. When he saw me standing there, awkward and undecided, he smiled and waved at me.
Do I not look like a threat to you, buddy?
If I told him to call Taylor Hudson, told him to tell him that Camille Riccardi was outside, would he come?
What if he didn't? Would that crush me?
What if he did? And all those feelings, the ones I had buried long ago, flooded back, and it crushed me even more?
Forget it.
This was a bad idea. Too risky.
But to make my trip not as useless, I went to the restrooms.
As I turned into the hallway labelled with the Male and Female signs, I pretty much collided head-first into the chest of someone much tallerâand strongerâthan me.
This isn't a movie.
That guy wasn't Taylor.
We just apologized and that was that.
Nothing to see here.
Now all I wanted was to pee in peace.
"Camille?"
Holy crap.
Holy crap.
Holy crap.
I knew that voice.
I turned around slowly, like I was trying to remember if that was in fact my name or trying to see if there was anyone else in the hallway.
It was.
And there wasn't.
"Taylor?"
The inflection made it sound like his name was a question, but it wasn't. I knew exactly who was standing a few feet away from me.
There was a wonderful expression on Taylor's face, one that forever will be imprinted in my mind. His eyes were wide, and his mouth looked like it was struggling to decide if it wanted to be happy or surprised.
I was sure my face looked similar.
"Hey." He spoke first.
"Hey yourself."
I looked at him. Really looked at him. The black hair that looked like it just got cut. A burgundy suit with a white shirt, no tie. He wasn't wearing a baseball cap, but I was almost certain that he much rather would be dressed in that and a hoodie.
And I felt...
Nothing.
I felt nothing.
And it was the best feeling in the world.
"What are you doing here?" he asked me.
We were going to do this. We were going to have a conversation.
"The department's gone out for dinner, as a way to celebrate the end of the year."
He moved his head in slight acknowledgment. "Nice. You survived the year. Congratulations."
"Thanks. And you survived the season, in first place, no less."
He smiled a crooked grin. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean anything in the playoffs."
Somehow, things always came back to school and hockey between us.
"I'm sure you guys willâ"
"Camille, there you are."
I looked over Taylor's shoulder and saw Will. Taylor turned around and smiled at him. Will smiled back but there was something off about his eyes.
"Hey, what's up?" I asked.
His eyes darted between Taylor and I. It was amusing. "I just wanted to check on you. You've been gone a while."
Oh.
"Thanks. I'm just catching up with an old friend. I'll be back soon."
Will nodded and Taylor and I watched him disappear from our sight.
"Who's he?" Taylor asked.
There was a fun, flirty tone to his voice.
"Just someone in the department."
"Okay."
Oh, come on.
"What?"
"Nothing. He just seemed awfully concerned for someone just in the department."
"We're a close group," I said dryly.
I've always believed that you can lie in practically every language except for body language. That, despite what you said, you couldn't fool someone with your body.
So, what did it say that at the prospect of someone being interested in me, Taylor seemed excited? Happy for me.
It didn't matter that there wasn't anything going on between Will and I or that Will was eight years older and there probably will never be anything.
What mattered was that Taylor seemed okay with it.
I needed to know if I felt the same. So I asked him if he was still seeing her.
If Taylor was shocked by my boldness, he didn't look it. "Yeah."
And the heavens opened for me. Relief flooded through me.
"That's good. I'm happy for you."
I was.
Holy shit.
I was actually happy that Taylor Hudson was in a relationship with someone that wasn't me.
My goodness, I can't believe I got to this point.
"You seem better than the last time I saw you," he commented.
"Yeah, I think I am doing better."
"I'm glad, seriously." He took a deep breath. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you too, Taylor. I've missed hanging out with you."
That was the truth. I missed visiting Devon with him and talking hockey with him and joking with him. I just missed him.
He nodded and we stared at each other. I felt an unexpected wave of sadness fill my body, starting from my heart and filling my entire chest. We missed each other. What were we supposed to do?
I was about to say something when Angela joined our little party in the hallway.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt, but the food's here. I know you wouldn't want it if it's cold."
She completed ignored Taylor, which I found both sad and hilarious. She was right about what she said, though.
"Yeah, thanks, I'm coming now." I looked at Taylor and hesitated. I just didn't know what to say. "I'll see you around. Take care."
This didn't have to be an ending. I still had his number. Actually, no. I had deleted it a long time ago. But I could always ask Lawson for it.
I began to walk away, but I didn't walk more than five feet before he called my name.
"Hey, Camille?"
"Yeah, Taylor?"
"If I send you Saints tickets, would you go to the game?"
Without turning around, I answered him. I wanted to keep the smile on my face as my little secret.
"Yeah, yeah I would."
By the time Angela and I got back to the apartment, the sun had long set. The sky was a rich navy and the lights from the buildings nearby served as make-shift stars.
After saying hi to Lawson, who was sitting on the edge of the couch playing video games, I went to my room and locked my door. Dinner clothes were replaced with my pajamas. I washed my face and threw my hair into a ponytail. I grabbed my thick blanket off the foot of my bed, cracked open my window just an inch, and took the clothes that were sitting on the chair next to my window off.
And then I sat.
There are moments in your life when you feel like you're exactly where you're supposed to be. When you finally feel like things have worked out. When you feel like all the difficult moments in your life had a purpose.
This was one of those moments.
I was continuously surprising myself, in more ways than one.
I was about to get a master's degree in a province that was a plane ride away from my home. There were times when I missed my parents so much that I cried myself to sleep, but then there were times like right now, where the dominant emotion was pride. I was so damn proud that I did this. It was something I had never imagined I could actually do, but I proved myself wrong.
And, of course, I did the impossible. I fell in love, got my heart broken, and then healed myself. I got over Taylor. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but I did it. The weird thing is, I may not even ever know what this all meant, in the grand scheme of things. Only time could tell, but there still were no guarantees. I'll probably never know if I loved Taylor because he was the first boy in my life who showed even the least bit of interest in me and treated me well. Or if I fell in love with him because he's him. I don't know if I'll fall in love again one day and experience a love that makes what I felt for Taylor seem insignificant. Or maybe I'll never feel love like this again, and I'll live the rest of my life with Taylor as my one true love. That seems unlikely, but anything is possible.
I know that now.
The truth is, I don't what's going to happen with Taylor and me, and that's okay. I don't know if we're only ever going to be friends or nothing, but I'd rather be the former than the latter.
There is one other thing, though, of which I'm certain. There was a point not too long ago when I couldn't think about Taylor without desperately wishing that he loved me. When I thought that us being together was the only way for our story to have a happy ending.
But I had been wrong. Because this was never our story.
It was mine.
And it did have a happy ending.
I looked out at the clear sky and felt peace.
The storm was over.
The End.