Meet me at the Grocery Store
Writer: Sarah Lindquist
Editor: Izzy Patrizio
Photo taken by Sarah Lindquist
I like to think I knew him. I knew that “I’m fine” meant he was okay, but “I’m good” meant he was anything but. I knew what made him laugh, what made him cry, and what buttons to push to get him to help me with my pre-calc homework. I knew he wanted to work by the ocean and more than anything, wanted to be loved by someone who would put him first. Most of all though, I knew what our future was going to hold, because there was no version of my life that he wasn’t in. Then, we stopped talking. He stopped telling me that he was fine, or that he was good. I stopped making him laugh, or cry, or making him help me with my pre-calc homework. I didn’t stop knowing him though, at least not yet. Every day, I wished to forget all that he was. I would see him pick at his fingers, and I knew that he was uncomfortable, not anxious like most would assume. I’d see him laugh with someone that wasn’t me, and all I could do was turn away. I couldn’t see him being happy with anyone else. Eventually, I watched myself become a stranger to the life I had known like it was the back of my hand.
Now, I couldn’t tell you the first thing about him. I like to wonder what would happen if I ran into him at the grocery store. Aisle 8, where the baking supplies would be. We always loved to make things together. The 10 years that have passed would show on his face. His hair would look different – I always told him he should never cut it. He works for some advertising agency. A 9-5 in a cubicle instead of on a boat, he had given up the life he always wanted for his family. He’s got 2 kids, a boy and a girl. When they ask who I am, he’d say I was an old friend. I’d be glad he never mentioned me.
Right after we stopped talking, I hoped that he would never succeed. I hoped that the rest of his life would be the punishment for what he did to me, for what he did to her too. I hated him enough for the both of us. In 10 years though, I hope I’ll be happy for him. I hope he’d be happy for me too. He’ll ask me what I’ve gotten up to. I’ll tell him I made it through law school, just like I always dreamed. I’ll say I live downtown with my husband and our two dogs. He’ll smile and laugh, saying that whenever he thought about me, he thought of me rising to the occasion. That he always knew I’d make it. I look at him, and I ask if his life is everything he wished it would be. It is, he’ll say. His right eye won’t twitch. He won’t shift his weight. He’ll be telling the truth.
Maybe I still know him better than I think.
I’ll watch him walk away, and I’ll think that’s the closure I always needed. The years I spent obsessing over how badly he hurt me, I never knew what would get me over him. I felt crazy, and spent hours questioning how I could still think about it. All I needed was to see that he made a life for himself, a life that I had no part in. Thanks to the grocery store, he gets to be a part of my past, not someone who defines my future.
I hope he gets everything he ever wanted, and I hope I never have any part in it.
