Ty sat back in his chair, studied her until she thought she had something on her face. "Then your story is just beginning."
Psychology II was so enormous, a couple hundred students in the lecture hall, that she hadn’t felt odd or old or old and odd at all. There’d been a few folks who were lots odder and a few even older than she was. So who would even notice her? She’d just go to class, study, pass, and voila a two-year degree with her name on it. And like any to-do list, and granted hers was shorter than it had ever been in her life, but like any list, it just took knocking off that first item to really get things, unnamed and unknown, into order.
Yeah, her life sucked, but she wasn’t going to give it a second’s thought, just go to the SUB and get her textbook. And she’d sit for a while in the atrium. She loved the huge room, dotted with tables and plants. She’d crack open her new psychology book and use a highlighter. A highlighter would really help her. It would illuminate everything. Later, she’d put it under her pillow and in her dreams all her questions would be answered. School supplies would be her mid-life band aid.
She got in line to pay for her two dollar cup of marginal coffee at the convenience store that had always been in the SUB and had always overcharged. She felt almost giddy with her textbook, notebook, pens, pencils, thesaurus, dictionary, postcards she had no idea who she’d send to, and Belmar University travel mug.
Three checkers made quick work of the lines, and Gwen stepped out into the atrium and felt the cup leave her grip as easily as she was taken back the twenty years since she'd last seen him.
Green eyes. His hair was the same dark blond, and he had a camera in his hand. In broken-in khakis and a new t-shirt, he looked like himself, just more himself with the passage of time. When he noticed her, she held her breath, afraid that somehow he wouldn’t know her. The way he froze for a moment then moved toward her without the ease she’d seen, made her understand he did.
He stood further away than a friend would, further away than even a stranger would. "Gwen."
Not knowing what to say, she just nodded once, felt panic and sadness all mixed together.
He studied her as if looking for a clue why she’d appeared, and she regretted the bag on her shoulder, Missy's red leather student one. It might make it difficult to get out of the truth. Then she registered the heat and glanced at the floor where her new travel mug sat split in half. A rivulet of coffee pooled in the low spot at her feet. Yep, that would be her, the low spot.
Seeing the trajectory of the spill, she might have felt lucky that most of it had missed her except that after twenty years… she looked up, shook her head, "Max." She tried for casual. "I imagined when I saw you again, I’d be standing in a cup of coffee."
He just watched her, and she didn’t think he was going to say anything, but then he raised his camera, obscuring his eyes, and took a shot of her sandals. He lowered the camera and held it against his chest. "I imagined I’d never see you again."
She watched him walk away again, this time down the length of the atrium. When she felt herself shake, she knew it was for the best that she hadn’t gotten any of the caffeine inside her. She hoped she wasn’t taking it in through the soles of her feet. Stepping away just in case, she looked back to where Max had stood the moment she’d seen him again. A new information kiosk curved against the back wall. Its copper letters were shiny against the dark wood and spelled out The Source.
He sat at his desk, glad he’d shut the door. He was fine, hell, why wouldn’t he be? He’d been shot at once and had gone on to get some great pictures. Sure, the shooter had been an old Sicilian woman he'd surprised by checking into his room early, but cleaning women had good aim, pretty good aim, fair aim. He’d been fine after that bullet missed him.
This was nothing. He just needed a minute because he'd been genuinely surprised, that’s all. She took him by surprise. He