I'm Still Here: Closure

Megan steps towards an old familiar coffee shop. In stride, her gaze catches the overhead of a scarlet red and a faded yellow pattern of the overhead as she crosses the street. The shop was owned by an old neighbor, mid twenties; widowed and had a son who was almost the same age as she was. If instinct was right, that same boy now all grown up, was in that same shop today. His enthusiastic demeanor just like his own father, who as she sees it, is still working right beside his son.

A smirk plays upon her lips, seeing a middle aged man she recognizes as her neighbor through the shop window. As she enters she looks upwards toward the same familiar ring of the bell above the door. Her hand pulls off the handle, and the man gazes at her with familiarity as she scans the surrounding tables and stands in the middle of the brown and white checkered tile floor.

She is keenly aware from the corner of her eye that he is leaning against the handle of his broom that he had been sweeping with but she continues to search the premises until her green eyes strike a chord with another familiar face. Her father, to whom he raises a hand to her in greeting. Instinctively she senses the pattern of apprehension as he rests his hand back on the table in front of him.

Even though it has been a couple of days since he has seen her last, he looks away momentarily, fiddles with the handle of his coffee cup and takes a tentative sip as she makes her way back towards him. With his grey blue eyes, the young man who has dark brown hair and has a striking resemblance to his own father, stands behind the counter watching his father continue to lean against the broom frozen as his own eyes connect with what he has taken interest in.

There sits a middle aged man with his hand wrapped around his coffee mug. He knows that man well, is familiar with his struggles. And then he thinks back to the young girl, her strikingly piercing green eyes which shed many tears in regard to the man who he watches before him. The young man catches at the sense of familiarity as he watches her sit beside the man, noticing that she sits close but still quite distant, her stance indecisive.

He looks as if he hasn't slept, looks worse off than before but she doesn't mention it, because he already knows. He knows that waking up numerous times these past two nights are not to be taken lightly. She goes back and she'll never know why he had changed. She leaves and he fears over and over that she'll never return. His daughter had her own life and he couldn't even describe the perfection she had achieved, the difference he saw between what he had expected from her and from what she had become.

The resentment had edged, concern taking place instead. She had never been able to understand him. Not once. But the questions still swirled constantly, although peace between them for once in their lives they sat together. It took several minutes and another order of coffee before he finally spoke, "I kept thinking about you, how if something happened you would never know just what had changed me."

Leaning back against her chair, she noted what he was trying to tell her. The same thoughts had gone through her mind, oddly enough. Over and over she thought about what would have happened if she had been on a case and something had happened that would change everything, maybe had even taken her life, and she would be left for the rest of her life never knowing who he was or never picking up the pieces that she had lost somewhere along the way.

"I've had the same occurrence, the one that keeps playing over and over in my head. Some cases I've been working on have had a profound effect on reminding me just what I left behind." She reassured him steadily, but quietly as she took a sip of her own coffee. He looked in surprise at her revelation, setting his coffee down on the table with a slight thump as it hit the flat surface.

His eyes connect with hers over the brim of his cup as he swallows down the remaining coffee he has left. He nods, moving his fingers around the rim of the cup. "I had a student, transferred in last year. She reminded me so much of you." A rueful smile breaks loose then fades. "At first glance she was quiet, had a tendency to speak her mind. I finally figured out why after I met her father around one of those breaks in the school year, when the teachers meet with the parents."

She nods, her eyes lighting up at the mention of a parent teacher conference. Never was she good at them and when her parents would meet with her teachers she was afraid of what either one of them would end up telling the other. Most times it ended up with her excusing herself, knowing full well that the teacher was going to have one of those private talks with her teacher. If looks could have killed, that's what she felt like when the night was over.

He sees the lost look in her eyes, knows what she's thinking about as she brings herself to look at him, to let him know that she's still listening. "All I remember was how I would wonder off and you would sternly tell me to head back to the car."

Mentally cringing, he nods knowing full what he did to her. One time he had gotten so desperate at making her understand that he had smacked her. And that was the last time that he had touched her, being just as stunned at what he had done. After that he didn't know how to handle her. Whatever way he tried to approach her, it never worked.