Fred Aiken Writing

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as two old friends, Kofi and David, sat across from each other at a dimly lit bar. It had been exactly fifteen years, four months, and two days since they had last seen each other, and even longer since that unforgettable night they had left their feelings on the table.

Kofi had worn his favorite sweater; a navy cable knit blend of wool and cashmere with intricate details that fit him perfectly, so long as he maintained a strict, occasionally uncomfortable, diet of 1300 calories per day and light to medium exercise that he primarily did by walking everywhere around the city and park near his apartment. He referred to the sweater as his lucky sweater, though he could not list a single instance in which wearing the sweater led to some sort of fortuitous event occurring. But at the very least, it was comfortable. Perhaps too comfortable? If that was a thing.

Hey, man, Kofi said, breaking the silence. Long time no see.

Yeah, too long, David replied, sipping his drink.

They talk about what they’ve been up to, respectively, all these years. They each go into intimate detail about their personal lives and accomplishments, with a heavy embellishment on some of the accomplishment aspects. Both of the men had families. David even had a child with his wife, Sandra. He delighted how much he enjoyed fatherhood and reminisced how much of a pleasant life he led.

It wasn’t until the third round of drinks that one of them finally mentioned why they each agreed to meet after all these years.

So, uh, about that night, Kofi said, sheepishly.

David  raised an eyebrow. He imagined he looked coquettish, but hopefully ironically. What night?

You know, fidgeting with his glass. The night we…you know.

Oh, that night. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about it. It was so long ago.

Are you kidding? I think about it all the time.

They both fell silent again, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging in the air. Their friendship swirls in the amber liquid around each others’ glasses.

Fourth round of drinks and one of them finally mustered up the courage to forge ahead.

You know, he said, looking at the other with a twinkle in his eye. I always wondered if we could have made it work.

Are you saying what I think you’re saying?

I think I am.

They both burst out laughing, the tension broken. David ordered another round of drinks, and they spent the rest of the night reminiscing about old times.

As they left the bar, arm in arm, they both knew that their feelings still lingered. The air was crisp and cool outside, and the stars twinkled overhead. They walked through the quiet streets, lost in their own thoughts.

They told each other that they must do this more often. Don’t let another fifteen years go without so much as an email. But a silent sadness lingered like quarks bouncing between them. Kofi imagined this might be the last time he ever saw his old friend.

But for that night, they were content. They pictured what the others’ life would look like. They pictured an alternate reality where they were together. They strolled along the sidewalk for as long as the moon lit their path and hoped the night would continue to tell their story.