I had always thought that things were supposed to get better with time. That's what I had been taught, what I had been told. That if you were going through something rough, just stick with it, because it could only get easier. That day by day things would get better.
What a load of bullshit.
At least it was to me.
The little peppermint tea that remained in my once steaming paper cup was now cold. Yet, I couldn't leave the small Starbucks located on the corner of one of downtown Toronto's busiest streets. Although, the way it was looking right now, you'd probably think I was lying by calling it busy because in that moment, the usually-bustling coffee shop was anything but.
The only other living, breathing thing sitting in the customer area other than myself was an older man with glasses who was reading the Toronto Star. I called him Ralph. I had no idea if that was his nameâwe didn't say a word to each otherâbut if it wasn't, it should be. He just looked like the type of guy who should be called Ralph.
Only two baristas were behind the counter. I looked over. No, make that one. The other had probably escaped to the break room.
I didn't blame her.
You could literally feel how violent the wind was based on how it shook the windows. If you could even call those glass panes windows, because you couldn't see anything outside of them. Not their fault, though. It was pitch black outside and you could only see the sheets of rain pouring down from the sky if the lightning struck just so.
And some say that pathetic fallacy only exists in fiction.
I had been in Toronto for slightly over two months and I was officially doing the worst I ever have since the move.
And I didn't feel that way just because I was stuck sitting by myself in a practically deserted Starbucks in the middle of a thunderstorm. I was a twenty-minute walk to my apartment, but call me average, I was the type of person who actually needed to see where she was walking to get to her destination safely.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, saw the same message I had left unread twenty minutes ago, and put it back.
Mom: Hi sweetie, I hope you're having a fun Friday night!
I didn't answer her. If that sounds harsh or uncharacteristic of me, let me explain. When I moved here, I made a deal to myself that I couldn't tell my parents when I was doing bad. I had to deal with things on my own, because that's what I signed up for, and it would do absolutely no good to worry them with my deteriorating-by-the-minute mental health.
Things hadn't always been this bad, though.
When I first arrived so nervous I could barely stand at the end of August, it was like I was in a bubble. Everything was new. The campus, the program, the streets, the apartment Angela, Lawson, and I were renting. I was so preoccupied with trying to get acclimated with everything that I almost didn't have the energy to miss home.
Or maybe I did.
I honestly can't say, because it was all just a blur.
Like my body was trying to defend against my senses getting overloaded so it weakened them a bit, so they wouldn't take in as much.
In many ways, I was incredibly fortunate. Everything was being pretty darn good to me. My supervisor and I were cut from the same cloth, my courses were stimulating, and the shoppingâwhen I had time for itâwas amazing.
September came and went and I was relatively unscathed.
October started in a similar fashion, as well.
I had been in conversation with at least one family member every day. Whether it was a group chat or a text message or a Facetime call, we made sure we knew what the other was up to.
But then it was Thanksgiving (for us Canucks). And that was when I first stepped into the dark tunnel.
I wasn't able to go back home for the weekend because it was sandwiched in between my two weeks of midterms. Of course, I was upset, but the holiday had never been a huge deal at my house. Besides, I had to study, and my parents would understand.
And they did. So much so that they and my brother surprised me by flying into Toronto for the weekend.
I swear I spent the majority of that first day in tears because I was overjoyed that they were finally within hugging distance.
But when Sunday evening came and they left to go back to Winnipeg, it was like they took that joy with them.
For the first time since I've been in Toronto, I fell into a lonely and depressive hole like nothing else I've ever experienced in my life. It was like my reality finally hit me, and being reunited with my family just showed me exactly what I was missing.
My home.
Thanksgiving was one month ago, and I've been this way pretty much ever since.
And now I'm alone, with no one but Ralph to keep me company.
I look outside the window, but the view hasn't changed. It's still coming down relentlessly, and it looks like neither of us will be going anywhere for a while.
The front door opens but I could barely hear the bell chime because of the rain sounds. Even though it's rude to stare, I watched the newest customer walk to the counter to place their order. It's partly because there's only so many times I could look at the paintings of Columbia on the walls, and also because I'm curious as to what type of person would drag themselves to Starbucks on a night like this. It was only a drizzle when I walked here after my class, in defense of my situation.
Something about hisâI've determined he's a guyâwalk reminds me of someone I haven't thought about in a while.
Lies.
Someone I've tried not to think about, but who still inserts himself into my thoughts almost daily. I can't help it. My family aren't the only ones I miss from Winnipeg.
See what I've done? Even just thinking about him has made me hallucinate, made me see the stranger's face as his.
Damn. What was in this tea? Because this mental trip is stellar, it looks exactly like him.
"Camille?"
It's him. It is him.
Sorry Starbucks barista, didn't mean to insult your tea making skills. Besides, it wouldn't have been your fault if drugged tea bags were sent to your location...
Camille! Taylor Hudson is standing right in front of you. Wake the hell up!
"Taylor, hey."
Okay, good start, that's a bit more human-like.
"Hey."
"Hi."
I skipped grade one, apparently, where most people learn that 'hey' and 'hi' are synonyms.
But, please, what else am I supposed to say? It's been, I don't know, eight months since the last time I've seen Taylor in person. Back in March, when the Storm came to play the Saints.
"Mind if I sit down next to you?" he asks, breaking my thoughts.
I stare at the vacant cushion next to me, as if I'm expecting it to answer for me.
"You want to sit?"
Taylor shrugs and smiles softly. "Yeah, I mean, I'd rather not go back out there just now."
"Right," I glance down. "Yeah, sit."
"Thanks."
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
I wait until he finishes taking a sip of his answer. Stupid question. Yeah, but still an upgrade from, "Have you been thinking about me as much as I've been thinking about you?"
"I wanted a Decaf. I'm out of coffee."
"You must have really wanted it to come out in this weather."
Taylor keeps his hands around his cup, even though it's sitting on the table. He looks different to me, but the same. Black toque and black hoodie under a grey jacket. Black hair that's a bit longer and therefore a little curlier.
How do I look to him?
"Yeah, it's definitely worse than it looks from inside my apartment. But I'm just across the street so I hardly got wet."
I nod, like that piece of information is news to me. Like I don't regularly frequent this Starbucks because I know he lives near it.
Actually, I just started doing that. Back in September, I avoided it for the very same reason. But as I've grown lonelier and lower, I gave myself more opportunities to run into Taylor.
"Oh, yeah, that's right."
He takes a drink and there's nothing odd about the gesture, nothing that suggests he's about to ask what he asks next.
"Are you okay, Camille?"
"Why do you ask?" I say weakly.
Am I that obvious? Do I look that bad?
His left shoulder lifts up. "You seem a little...stressed."
Then I do the unthinkable. The most embarrassing thing I or anyone could do in this situation.
I begin to cry.
No, worse.
I begin to blubber.
The crying fest where you start off by pulling a funny face that people around you could mistake for an about-to-sneeze face. That is, until the tears fall and you choke out the most hideous sound from the back of your throat.
"Woah, it's okay, you're okay," Taylor whispers as he puts an arm around my shoulder and pushes me into his chest. "Whatever it is, you're going to be okay, Camille."
Actually, I probably won't ever recover from this.
I stay like that for a few more minutes until I feel like the worst is over.
When I pull away, I can't look Taylor in the eye. I glance at Ralph and see that he's watching me with a sympathetic expression. Great, now I've disturbed Ralph's peaceful evening.
"I'm so sorry, Taylor. I'm not sure what that was about. I'm just...I'm just going to go home now." Without giving him a chance to respond, I put on my coat and grab my bag, but he puts a hand on my knapsack, stopping me cold.
"How're you going to get there?"
Good question. The roads have to be horrible and the reason I was sitting here for so long was that I felt guilty about putting an Uber driver on the road in these conditions.
"Is Lawson going to come pick you up?"
Right. I forgot they probably still talked. Angela must have told him not to talk about Taylor around me, because he never mentions him.
"He can't. He and Angela went to Niagara for the weekend. Left this morning."
Taylor nodded. "Come back to my apartment with me, then. You can stay as long as you need to until the weather clears. And don't sit there trying to think of an excuse."
Is he seriously doing this after we haven't had any contact for months?
"But it might not be better until morning!"
"So? I have a couch."
Was this guy for real? He was already standing and giving me an expectant look, so I guess he was.
"Fine." Bitchy much? "I mean, thanks."
"Fine. I mean, you're welcome."
Oh my goodness, was that a smile on my face? A real, live smile? I could finally cancel that missing person's report. My smile had finally returned.
Even though we were only outside for a total of two minutes, we stepped into Taylor's condo building drenched. My raincoat and hood were no match for the rain. Head to toe, I was wet.
And cold.
"First thing we can do when we get inside is change," Taylor said during the elevator ride.
Change? Into what? What I was wearing was all I had. Duh!
"You can borrow some of my things."
Huh. Even after all this time, Taylor still had that annoying yet impressive ability to read my thoughts.
It only took me two seconds of stepping into the condo to see that the place looked exactly how I remembered. Of course, it would. It was perfect. Why would Taylor have any reason to mess with it?
"They still haven't kicked you out yet?" I asked.
"No, I still have it for one more year."
The condo was owned by the Saints organization, but Taylor had been staying it since he got traded here last winter.
"Lucky you."
I followed him into his room and watched him go through his drawers. He pulled out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt easily enough, but then he shuffled through the rest, seeming dissatisfied with everything he pulled out. Finally, he tossed a hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants onto his bed.
"I'm pretty sure that every single I own is way, way too big for you, but I got you some of the softest things."
Please, no, Taylor. Please don't be so kind. I had been doing so well, too...
"Thanks."
"No problem," he said softly. Then, a little louder, "Take your time changing. I'll be in the living area when you're done."
Alone, I looked at the clothes like they offended me. I didn't particularly want to wear them or be enveloped in Taylor's scent, but I also didn't want to be standing in my wet jeans for a moment longer. Even the thought just made me cringe.
I completed my outfit swap in record time. Taylor was right. These were soft. And huge. I looked like a circus performer.
"Woah, look at you!" Taylor said when I left his room and stepped into the living area.
He was sitting on his couch, already changed. And that was when I noticed it for the first time.
"Look at me? Look at that," I said, staring at his arm.
"Oh yeah," he mumbled.
Like he forgot that his entire right arm was covered in ink.
"A tattooist in Pasadena did it all for me this summer."
"Nice."
Did I take Taylor for a tattoo guy? I knew he had a few but those were well-hidden. How much did I really know this guy sitting across from me? It had been so long, hadn't it?
Taylor tossed me a neatly folded blanket, which I assumed had been tucked away in a closet.
"I took out a few snacks, if you want."
Diet Coke and pretzels.
"I'm okay, thanks."
"What? It's not your favourite anymore?"
Taylor had that half-smirk on his face and was leaning his elbows on his knees. I looked away quickly. I still found him attractive.
Shocker, eh?
He was a little older, with a little more facial hair, and just all in all, a little less boyish.
I shrugged. "It's late for caffeine."
Not that it mattered, because I doubted I would be getting any sleep tonight regardless.
"So, how's life?"
I gave him a shy glance.
"Well, despite what my crying might suggestâand sorry about that, by the wayânot bad."
"Don't be sorry. And yeah?"
Oh god, he must think I'm so down in the dumps.
"Yeah, really. It's..." Did I be honest, here? Why the hell not? "just been a little bit of a rough time, lately. Missing my family a little."
My lips pouted and I widened my eyes to stave away the newly forming tears.
"I can imagine. I know you're close with them. They probably miss you just as much, if not more."
"Yeah, probably."
"And how's school going?" He grabbed a pretzel from the open bag.
"Pretty good," I said coyly.
Taylor wasn't fooled. "You're probably killing it, aren't you?"
No comment.
But yeah, I was doing pretty darn well. The year was still young but I knew I was hitting my stride academically.
Personally? That was where I struggled.
"How's the season going?"
That was an okay thing to ask him, right? Not too personal, I thought. I couldn't just sit here and get grilled by him without asking any questions of my own.
"Okay." A frustrated look took over Taylor's features. "We're a better team than the way we've been playing. Losing games to teams that are below us in the standings because we don't show up, or playing hard but not getting any lucky bounces."
"I know," I admitted.
His left eyebrow moved an inch toward his forehead.
"Yeah. I've been watching the games with Lawson every so often. It makes me feel close with my dad."
Taylor smiled and grabbed another pretzel. I joined him this time.
"How is it living with him and Angela? He told me you three share an apartment."
"Fun, I love it. We get to split the expenses three ways and we all get along. Lawson's a good guy, which helps. I feel like the three of us are friends first, and Angela and Lawson happen to be in a relationship."
I didn't realize I had said anything odd until I saw the look on Taylor's face.
Oh.
"Taylor, I didn't mean..."
He shook his head. "Yeah, I know."
I didn't mean to suggest that people could be friends and in a relationship at the same time.
Neither of us said anything for a while. We were probably deciding if we wanted to talk about this.
At least I was.
"You don't wear the bracelet?"
What?
"Do you not like it? I thought it suited you," he said.
"Taylor, what are you talking about?"
He looked at me with wide eyes.
"I sent you a bracelet as a graduation present, to your house."
Well, this was news to me.
"I didn't get anything."
And I knew exactly why. My parentsâparticularly my momâprobably intercepted it. I couldn't be angry at her though. I knew she thought she was doing what was best for me, not that that made it right.
"I'm really sorry. Next time I talk to my mom, I'll ask her if she remembersâ"
"I tried, you know."
The edge in his voice made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Tried what?"
I opened the Coke, after all. My tongue felt like all the moisture had been sucked from my mouth.
"To feel the way for you the way you felt for me."
Oh.
Uh-oh.
"And how did it work out for you?"
The lack of an answer said enough.
What the fuck was wrong with me? How many times did I have to face reality? How many times did I need to be slapped with the word 'no?'
"Taylor, never mind. Forget I asked that. It wasn't my business, and I already knew the answer, anyways."
"Camille, Iâ"
He stopped speaking and bit his lip and turned his head so that his profile was facing me. Despite the conversation topic, or maybe because of it, I wanted to fun my finger along his jaw line. The marble treasure.
"Taylor," I whispered. "I didn't fall in love with you just so that you could torture yourself because you don't love me. I loved you because I didn't have a choice. I just did. I can't fault you because you just don't."
He faced me again. Only a table lamp was turned on and the soft shadows it cast made his dark eyes look somber. Or maybe it was his emotions doing that.
"And how do you feel about me now?"
The same. Better. Different. Worse. All of the above, depending on the time of day. I had long ago accepted the fact that Taylor's and my relationship was one of unrequited love, and that it was in my best interest to fall out of love. I thought I was there, but now I wasn't so sure.
"I don't know," I finally admitted.
He nodded a few times, like he was trying to make sense of my answer.
"I'm still sorry for what I did to you. I was attracted to you and you were my friend and I was selfish."
"Maybe I wasn't the best person for you to sleep with at that moment, but you weren't doing anything wrong by having others. I mean, I get it. That sometimes we get confused by our feelings." I paused to collect my thoughts. "You were so young, Taylor. You are so young, Taylor. And I should have known that before I placed those high expectations on you. It's okay to not be ready for that."
Knowing that maybe five or even ten years from now, a mature Taylor could fall in love with me, was what got me through most of my hardest nights. Because the most hopeful and romantic part of me in the heart of my heart thought that Taylor and I would spend our lives loving each other. I would've just loved him first.
"I'm seeing someone."
What?
Somewhere in an alternative universe, what were once large pieces of already shattered glass, fell on the floor.
The final blow.
"Pardon?"
My voice was all breath.
"I've started to see someone. In August."
"I'm happy for you," I said robotically.
A lie.
"What's her name?"
"Do you want to know that?"
"I guess not, it's irrelevant. But tell me about her."
Tell me how she and I are total opposites.
Taylor hesitated but answered anyways.
"Her dad used to play for the Storm and he's now involved with the organization as an ambassador, and she's come to a few team events. It's casual though, not too serious."
Someone in the hockey world, who was rich, and most definitely beautiful. Old money. Luxurious.
Someone perfect for Taylor.
"Does knowing this hurt?" he murmured.
If he didn't know the answer to that question, Taylor Hudson was a moron.
"I'm fine."
Taylor sighed and it sounded like he was miles away.
"You were right, by the way. When you told me we couldn't be friends anymore, you were right. I didn't like it at the time, but now I see it's the right thing."
Holy crap.
Funny how you could go eight months without seeing someone, without communicating with themâwithout being their friend, essentiallyâand be kind of/sort of okay. But then it becomes official and it feels like a piece of you has been pulled out and stomped on.
"So, this is it, then," I said.
A tear fell onto my face and I just left it to evaporate on its own.
"Yeah, I guess this is."
Even he sounded emotional. I would not have guessed that.
"God, Camille," he choked. "It was so much fucking fun being your friend, you have no idea."
"No, I do, Taylor. I was there." I rubbed my eyes. I was full-on crying at this point. "Taylor, can I hug you, please?"
His large frame got up and sat next to me. And then he pulled me into a tight hug. He squeezed me gently, and I hoped he squeezed all my love for him out of my body so that I didn't have to deal with it anymore.
"I am so sorry, but I don't regret it."
"Neither do I."
I really didn't. I couldn't have one without the other. The love and heartbreak, joy and pain were package deals.
When I finally pulled away, I swear I saw Taylor's heart break in his eyes.
"You don't want to stay the night here do you?"
I shook my head gently, but I didn't think anything could ease the blow.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"But won't you be alone there?"
Yeah, but I'd be alone even if I stayed here.
"I have some nice neighbours that could help if I needed anything. I'm just going to change and then call an Uber."
It wasn't even ten pm and I could tell the rain had stopped from the absence of new droplets on the windows.
"No. Please, keep the clothes."
I didn't have it in me to tell him no, even if I just threw them in the garbage as soon as I got back to my apartment.
"Okay, thanks."
Taylor watched me as I shoved my wet clothes into my backpack and put on my outerwear. We were both quiet as we walked to his front door. Even after Taylor opened it, we just stood there, looking at each other.
"Take care, Camille," he said.
"You too, Taylor Hudson."
That night, in the backseat of a dark red Toyota Corolla that belonged to my Uber driver, I broke my number one rule.
With shaking hands, I pulled up Tumblr and typed in the three words that I had once hoped would apply to myself.
Taylor Hudson girlfriend
I didn't have much else to lose at this point, did I? I was crying in an Uber for god sakes.
I hadn't thought he was lying but seeing the tens of photos of Taylor with a beautiful blonde girl sobered me. If you could call stabbing in the heart with a dagger sobering.
It wasn't hard to see what he saw in her, and even without knowing her, I couldn't blame him for falling for her and not me.
Because guys like him didn't love girls like me.
How stupid of me to even let myself entertain the feelings I had for him.
You'd think I'd be heartbroken to find out that Taylor felt about someone else how I desperately wanted him to feel about me.
And I was.
Good god, did I ever hurt.
But I was also thankful. And I wouldn't realize just how thankful I'd be until much, much later.
Because that was the last night I cried over Taylor Hudson.