When I first lay my eyes on Jay, I was crying. It’s ironic, isn’t it? Love at first blurry sight.
I had just spilled an expensive vanilla latte over my jeans, while being on the phone with my ex-boyfriend. He was asking how I was doing. I considered telling him that pouring hot coffee on my leg was to be compared to about 1 percent of the pain he had caused me. What kind of man leaves for a job overseas without telling his girlfriend?
It still wasn’t sinking in that I didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, so he kept calling me and somehow, I kept answering. At the time, I wasn’t at peace with us being broken up, but I didn’t really see any other option. I felt like I needed to make a statement.
You can’t just leave someone behind for some months without discussing it, let alone without even mentioning it. Then again, I still loved him.
So when I got off the phone, I got all teary-eyed. Of course, I blamed the sting from the hot coffee on my skin, but deep down I knew I was crying because of the confusion. It’s so hard to try and stand your ground when it means you have to let go of someone.
My sweet Jay, who was still a stranger to me back then, he was about the only one in the café who noticed. I had gotten pretty good at hiding the fact that I was crying when I was younger.
My parents were always fighting and I knew that if my father would have heard me whimper, he would have dragged me out of bed, shouting at my mum: “See what you’re doing to our family? You’re making the kids unhappy!”
So there was no heavy breathing, no nose blowing, no strange noises erupting from my throat.
There were just these endless waterfalls.
Jay was sitting in front of me in no time and initially, it made me hate his guts. Who the hell had the nerve to come and sit at my table, especially when I was in this kind of state?
I rubbed my eyes to try and throw the hazy figure a murderous look, but as soon as the mist of tears had cleared, all anger vanished from me.
Never had I seen a face so patient, undemanding. He wasn’t even looking me straight in the eye, he was pressing some napkins to the coffee spill on the table. My eyes roamed over his shirt, trying to look for a name tag. Perhaps he worked here? That would explain it all. But there was nothing there.
I felt the urge to say something, but at the same time I couldn’t be bothered with social behavior right now. Jay, he didn’t say anything either. He just sat there with me, in quiet company. He later told me he just didn’t want me to feel alone, although he didn’t even know who I was.
When he left, he never said his name, but he did catch my glance and that’s all that needed to be said. It felt like we would never need words and honestly, we never really did. There was this instant connection between us and we understood, we grasped it all.
Luckily, he wasn’t as mysterious as he had appeared to be and he had written his number on one of the few dry napkins left on the table. I still remember calling him for the first, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest. I would have never called him if I hadn’t convinced myself of the fact that I was obliged to thank him for his kindness.
We would often call, sometimes not speaking, just listening to each other breathing. When we’re lying in bed now, it’s still my favorite thing to do. Listen to him breathing, his body moving, causing the sheets to rustle.
When I last lay my eyes on Jay, I was smiling. We have been together for a while now, two shy peas in a pod.
It’s never felt so good to have someone accept you for who you are, without ever asking you to be anything else, anything more, anything less. My ex-boyfriend, he never really understood. I haven’t heard from him in a while and quite frankly, I’m grateful for the tears he once caused.
Because although at the time my heart felt empty, it also meant there was room for someone else.
I hope we all meet our very own Jay.