Can People Really Change?

My stomach fluttered with anxiety as I made my way into the coffee shop. I had tried for days to mentally prepare for today's reunion but no amount of playing out every possible scenario in my mind could take away the nerves of the day finally being here. It had been years since I last saw her and all I could remember when I thought of her was all the pain and chaos she had caused me.

"Why am I doing this?" I whispered to myself as I pulled the heavy glass door open.

The warm air from inside rushed over my body as the white noise of every patron chatting filled my ears. I could smell the deep aroma of the freshly ground espresso beans, both of our favorite smells. I surveyed the slightly crowded coffee shop until I found where she was sitting. She gave me a soft smile and behind her eyes I could see all the nerves. I returned the gesture as I offered a soft smile of my own and got in line to order my drink. I noticed she had her 'for here' coffee mug with what I assumed was a hot vanilla latte. Her favorite. I could see she still topped it with cinnamon. Should I have been offended she didn't order my drink? Maybe. But if I still knew her, I knew she was too nervous to get my order wrong and look 'dumb'. She probably had anxiety at the decision of her actions either way. She was damned if she tried to order my drink but got it wrong and she was damned if she didn't order my drink for me and looked rude.

It was probably for the best she hadn't ordered for me. My drink of choice had changed and I doubt she would have ever been able to figure it out.

"I'll take a cappuccino with almond milk, please." I smiled to the barista taking my order.

They had my coffee ready by the time I had finished paying. Before I headed to her I stopped by their little bar and grabbed a single packet of raw sugar and a stir stick. I knew before I even sat down that she would be horrified at the sight of me disturbing the beautiful steamed milk art that I always made sure to take a picture of for my Instagram story.

I realized there were so many little parts of me that were new or different that would seem like a huge deal to her and I wondered, would I see that she was any different than I remembered?

"Long time no see," she awkwardly let out. There was a slight tension in the air and I could tell neither one of us knew how to greet each other. Do we hug? That felt too forced. But it also felt wrong to not hug her.

I settled with a polite giggle to her remark as I sat in the chair across from her. Thankfully that giggled had cleared some of the tension as I noticed her shoulders relaxed. She sat booth side and behind her, above the cushion of the seat, was a mirror that wrapped along the whole wall of tables. I couldn't see my own reflection as her head perfectly covered mine. We were still the same height.

"What drink is that?" She scrunched her nose at my tiny cup before her as she tried to tease me.

"A cappuccino," I smiled as I brought the cup to my lips, "same amount of espresso just less milk. I'm not a huge fan of super sugary drinks anymore."

She silently nodded as she grabbed her own drink to sip. I was searching every corner of my mind on what to say next but then she beat me to it.

"I just wanted to apologize before anything," the words were almost forced out of her, like she had built up all the courage to say it and she only had .2 seconds to get it out.

"For?" I raised my eyebrow and leaned back into my seat.

"Well, who I was." She shrugged and then dropped her head, "and all the pain I caused."

The mere acknowledgment of the pain brought back a rush of horrid memories. They played out like a movie in front of me. I could no longer see her sitting there, instead I saw the past. Moments that had haunted my subconscious flickered before my eyes and the common denominator in these memories was always... her.

She had caused me pain for so long. I spent forever trying to find others to blame and sure, some were to blame. But when it all faded away, what was left was the sole perpetrator. And here I was dumb enough to be sitting in front of her for coffee, as if I hadn't done everything in my power to rid my life of her.

I brought my cup back to my lips as I took a small sip of my drink, allowing a pause so I could gather my thoughts without leaving to much silence between us.

"I forgive you," I smiled to her as I set my cup down.

She seemed shocked at my words. Tears in her eyes as if she had hoped for me to say just that, but her mouth was slightly agape, causing me to believe she didn't believe I would actually say it.

With a quick deep breath through my nose and a moment to fix my posture, I continued on, "you were at your worst. Hurting. So, I would like to believe you didn't mean to cause me so much turmoil but you still hurt me. You could argue you were trying to protect me. Maybe none of it was your intention. But the fact is, you hurt me." I took a long pause staring into her eyes, then as I glanced away, trying to find the courage to continue on, I said, "I can pity you. Empathize with you. I can even love you. All while still wanting to move on from you. And I have."

I saw her lower lip begin to quiver as she looked up to stop the tears from succumbing to gravity. She swallowed hard before she asked, "do you believe people can change?"

And just like before, a flood of memories clouded the space between us. I saw the last few years of my life play out before me as I did everything I could to rid myself from her. Therapy. Extensive and expensive therapy. Piles of journals with every single page filled with ink. I saw my moments of revelation. Conversations with other humans that led me to new conclusions. Moments of crying. Sobbing, actually. Sobbing so hard I threw up. Which, was a tad dramatic now that I look back on it. But pain does not care about ones ego. So, yes. I cried so hard I threw up. A few times.

Every step of moving further away from her played before me. Whether it was so small I never noticed it or whether it was the biggest moment of my life that I knew she couldn't touch me anymore. But here she was, in front of me. And here I was, in front of her.

"I do." I stoically said as I locked her teary eyes into mine.

She sniffled and cleared her throat before responding, "how can you believe that?"

I looked down to the near empty cappuccino cup in front of me and gently grinned, without looking back to her I said, "because we did."

As I looked back to face her, I saw nothing but my own reflection in the mirror on the wall that had sat behind her. She was gone. In fact, she was never there. All that was there, all that had ever been there, was me.

I began to leave the coffee shop, clearing the empty cappuccino cup that sat at the table and leaving it in a bus tub nearby. I pushed open the heavy door, allowing for the outside cold to whip my face. I contemplated duality, a lesson I had learn as I unwired every part of her that was intertwined into me. I knew she had just been hurting. I knew she was valid for the pain she carried and the wounds she idolized from the hands of others. Unfortunately, validating pain and injustices is a slippery slope to victimhood. In which you become the villain to yourself.

By losing her, I had to learn balance. I had to learn to walk again now that the weight of her was no longer a part of me. How do I make space for pain without letting it chain me? How do I love others without letting them step all over me in hopes they love me more? How do I be strong from my past without turning it all into weapons against others? How do I keep the best parts of her but make space for better parts of me?

Acknowledgment.

She may have been beaten and bruised by others but she also beat and bruised herself. My heart hurts for her but my soul is glad to be free from her. I recognize she could be in pain and cause pain. To herself and to others. I recognize everything may have been unintentional, but wounds bled regardless and scars healed jagged and raised.

I recognize in order to change, I had to lose her and free myself from every weight and pain she chose to carry as her tarnished jewelry.

And with all of that is my final revelation, choice. Change requires choice.

Softly, to myself, I muttered, "I just don't know if everyone chooses to."