Luna could have foiled all my plans by going out for some me-time or just to get errands done, but luckily, she didn’t. She’s at home. She’s shocked at first, but her face quickly dissolves into a smile.
“Uh, you’re back?”
“Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to…if I could make you a cup of coffee. In your own kitchen. Seeing as I know where everything is.”
“Oh.” She blinks. “Uh, yeah.” Luna knows. I can tell that much. She knows I’m here to talk. “You made up a scheme to get me alone so we could discuss things,” she says, but there’s no edge to her voice, no recrimination in her tone.
“Yeah. You know me too well.”
“No, I never even suspected. I have to say that you had me fooled.”
“Granny really wanted to spend time with Milo, and she asked me if she could have him for a couple of hours one weekend. I just thought this would work out well.”
Luna nods. She’s always so gentle, so understanding, and so, so good. Even before, if I hadn’t panicked and wrecked everything, could I have given her a reason to want to stay? Could I have been enough for someone like Luna?
I thought my life was just missing Milo. That he put joy into it and taught me how to have fun, be relaxed, and let loose, just living in the moment and going with it. That he’s taught me everything. But it wasn’t just him. Luna isn’t solely responsible for Milo’s personality, but she did raise him. She taught him how to be a good person, and he is. I’m so, so proud to say that my kid is a good person.
My heart does another blip out, but I’m past thinking it’s something I need to be medically worried about, and yes, for a little while there, I thought maybe it was something physically funky. I now know the blip is a good thing. It lets me know I care, and for once, I’m not afraid of that. I gave up on love instead of losing it, and I punished myself. I did it to myself. But I’m not going to make that mistake again.
“Tor?” Luna says my name, not my full name, but the wonderful nickname that only those super close to me get to use. She says it softly in her sweet way, and my heart tumbles all over the place.
Right there on the doorstep, I’m struck entirely speechless and rendered altogether useless by the fact that even though it’s been five years, I think I’m still in love with this woman.
I guess that’s why I’m here. To discuss whether or not she could ever find it in her to give me another chance on that front too.
“I…uh…”
“Are you coming in?”
I force myself to put one leg in front of the other since that’s how walking works. I’m familiar with the process. My body finally obeys even though I’m still lost in thought, mostly about how to get the right words out, which words are right, what to say, and when to say it. I’m also worried about how much is too much and how little is too little.
But the thing I’m most afraid of? Being loved and loving unconditionally. Ironically, it’s the one thing in the world no one should do without. I tried to choose to do without because I was a moron, but Luna has shown me, time and again, that it’s possible. She taught me that true goodness exists. I saw it in her when I met her. That’s why, against my own judgment and everything, I wanted her in my life. I couldn’t stop myself from asking her out, I couldn’t stop myself from being drawn to her, and I couldn’t not want her. I wanted her so badly that I wanted to change what I thought, how I acted, and who I thought I was. I wanted my life to make sense for her. I wanted to be someone else, someone different, and I panicked because I thought I couldn’t make it and wasn’t being true to myself. I never thought that when I was with Luna, it’s when I was the most genuine, and I was exactly who I was supposed to be. Going without love, doing without, and being solitary and lonely was never the real me.
As I walk into her kitchen, I want to tell her all these things. I want her to understand. But first, I go through the motions of making the coffee by filling up the filter and putting in the water. Somehow, something starts dripping, though I’m not sure I put the right amounts in. Luna waits silently and patiently, but not the oppressive kind of silence or the false kind of patience.
Eventually, we sit down at the kitchen table—in the yellow seventies chairs which are quite comfortable and plush—with two steaming, albeit strong, cups of coffee.