Unforgettable

Part 27

Casey

Our hands are buried deep into my pocket, the cool December air turning our cheeks a rosy pink. My arms are laden with shopping bag as Natalie and I wander the streets of Soho. We've saved our last minute Christmas shopping to the last minute, apparently the same as pretty much every New Yorker in a 5 mile radius. With school letting out a few days ago we had some time to kill, so Natalie and I decided to come down to New York for a few days before we fly over to Chicago to see her family. Neither her nor I have ever stayed in New York for more than 2 days, so we've been making the most of it like the pure tourists we are. Lazy strolls in Central Park, observing the brightly lit city from above at the Empire State Building, and roaming around museums and galleries has become apart of our daily routine. The whole world has seemed to slow down the past few days, life feels like it's been put on hold while we're here. It's just the two of us, all day every day.

"Ooh, can we stop for a drink break?" Natalie asks from beside me, pointing towards a warm, inviting looking café. I nod, squeezing her hand quickly as we walk across the road and into the small building. Warm air hits us, a relief from the conditions outside. Natalie settles us at a window table while I go to the counter to order. I order 2 teas (it's official, she's converted me), before crossing the room, stripping the many shopping bags off of my arm and depositing them at my feet. Her hand drifts to mine until they're sitting, entwined on the top of the table.

"So, are you excited to see your family?" I ask her, rubbing the pad of my thumb over her hand. She sighs, flicking a strand of her hair over her shoulder before looking me in the eyes. 

"Honestly... I don't know. I mean, I'd like to see everyone, maybe even my mom, but I just... I don't want to cause a scene. I don't want my being there to just be a target for my mom, I just... I just want to have a nice, carefree Christmas." she stutters out, her eyes flicking from the table back to me. 

"So you think you're going to try talking to your mom?" I ask, urging her slightly to tell me what's going on inside of her brain.

"I think so. Even if things are still weird between us, I'd just like to talk to her, to figure out what she's thinking. Then, maybe if we can both see where we're coming from, we might be able to move past the issue." 

"Where she's coming from? She didn't believe that you had to flee a bad relationship because he treated you badly, I don't think that she's going to say anything beneficial." I accidently blurt out, unable to stop the thoughts from my own brain. I watch closely as her eyebrows knit together, before she drops my hand slowly. 

"Yeah but, if I don't try, nothing will ever get better." 

"But what, if by putting yourself at risk of being torn down and belittled even more, nothing gets better anyway? What's the point?" 

She grabs her bag from beside her, standing from the table before sidestepping away from it. I stand, catching her arm before she can leave.

"Hold on, where are you going?" I ask as she wriggles out of my grip. 

"I'm going back to the hotel. I need to think, alone. Please don't come back for an hour." she says, a tear in her eye as she bursts out the door. I grab my own stuff from the floor, dashing passed a stunned waiter carrying our beverages in my hurry to get to her. 

"Nat, Nat, wait, I'm sorry." I call as I chase after her. She stops suddenly, turning around, her eyes wet with tears. 

"I'm sorry, I just need space for a second." she replies before turning on her heels, walking quickly in the direction of our thankfully nearby hotel. I stay motionless, my feet stuck to the ground. I watch her walk further away from me, until she turns a corner, out of sight. I run a hand through my hair, my jaw locking as stress surges through my body. It takes all I have not to just run after her, but I want to give her space, like what she asked for. Sighing, I cross the road to sit at a small wooden bench, hanging my head in my hands.