Page 90 of Love and Other Goals

“I mean…Aaron did make some compelling points.” Teegan finally draws first blood.

My eyes bore into Amaya’s. “Look, Lana, I’m not going to tell you that you need to take Mateo back,” she begins, calculating her response. “But as much as I want to throat punch Aaron for everything he’s done, I do agree with him that you’ve been a shell of yourself. And as your best friends, it’s hard for us to watch. Especially when you were so happy with Mateo.”

Teegan jumps back in. “LaLa, you’ve grown a lot in your flexibility and willingness to change plans recently. Maybe Mateo deserves to see that.”

I give Teegan a blank stare, trying to recall my “stay-mad-at-Mateo” mental picture to loop again.

Then my bubbly, sweet best friend splashes ice water over my attempt. “And maybe you need to think back through if what Mateo said and did is really as unforgivable as you keep convincing yourself it was.”

“Ouch, Teegs,” I wince. Even Amaya looks a little shocked by Teegan’s straightforward statement.

Teegan’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “He’s it for you, Lana. Mateo brought out all your best qualities because he saw you—Lana Grant, intensely-focused justice crusader with the biggest heart for vulnerable people. He wanted your dreams for you—I think he would have done anything to help you chase them down.” She pauses, voice choked with emotion. “You don’t have to limp through life miserable knowing you’ve been cut off from your person.”

Amaya and I just stare at her.

“Yes, he messed up. We all know that. He knows that. But don’t throw away the chance to have something so special just because you won’t admit that you were wrong too.” Teegan wipes her eyes and gives her head a shake. “I love you, Lana, and I’ll be in your corner no matter what. But you still have a chance to put these pieces back together, and I just…please don’t be too stubborn to miss it.”

I shower and let Teegan curl my hair while we watch a movie together. Even though I’m just going to sleep, it seems like a healing step to practice basic hygiene. I also want to assure Teegan I’m not mad after her honest comments.

Sleep proves hard to come by, and I wake early again Saturday morning. I quietly dress in leggings and an AOPi sweatshirt, grabbing my bag with my Bible and journal.

When I get to my car, there’s no note on my windshield. A wave of disappointment trickles through me as I drive to Bookafe and order a bottomless coffee. Out of habit, I make my way to my favorite table in the world corner. I open my journal, but no words flow from my pen. I look to the bookshelf next to me and run my finger over the same Salman Rushdie novel from the day Mateo revealed his feelings for me at this table.

The memory floods over me, and I close my eyes as the burning sensation of drowning squeezes my lungs. I was so caught off guard by his declaration that day that I didn’t even fully appreciate how thoughtful and sweet every word was, but now they waltz their way back through my thoughts. I sit in silence for hours, halfheartedly picking at a chocolate chip orange muffin and letting my coffee go cold as I stare at the empty pages of my journal.

When the tables around me start to fill with conversation, I pack up and leave, not quite sure what to do next. As I drive out of Center Square, I pass the plaza where the fall festival is held, dredging up more memories of Mateo: his total delight in celebrating my favorite season with me, the fiery sparks shooting through my arm when we held hands for the first time, his adorable nervousness when he asked me to be his girlfriend.

My subconscious has apparently turned into a glutton for punishment, because I find myself pulling into the parking lot of the soccer complex. I stare at the field where I rediscovered my love for soccer, where we played together, where I watched Mateo play. He was so talented. He is so talented. He deserves to keep playing, my thoughts betray, stinging my heart and eyes with guilt. I was so cruelly self-centered that I didn’t even consider that this was a dream he deserved.

I contemplate driving to Mateo’s house, to crack open the door to conversation.

Instead, I keep driving and driving, out of the Brooklyn city limits. I arrive at the prairie reserve and put my car in park, looking out at the rolling hills where spring green is fully overtaking the brown of winter.

After queuing up my Moody Mellow playlist, I pocket my phone as I get out of the car and put in one ear bud. I start meandering down the path, too slow and aimless to label it hiking or even walking. Pausing frequently to stare out at the sky, I eventually find myself approaching the parking area where Mateo and I had our first real date.

My breath starts to catch, but I speed walk through till I’m back on the hiking path. I fight the urge to look back to the very spot I first found myself starting to fall for Mateo. My brain chooses this moment to tune in to the music playing in my ear, just in time to hear Taylor sing, I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me, so right.

“I don’t need your commiseration right now, Taylor!” I yell out loud, yanking the ear bud out. I pause on the trail and half sit against a rock, eyes filling with tears.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to stem the flow. But I can’t silence the voice that’s been pounding with increasing volume on the door of my heart all morning. You’re being too stubborn to admit you’ve made a massive mistake!

Staring out at the horizon, I take in the beams of sunlight cutting their way through the thick, puffy white clouds filling in the sky. I focus on the sounds of birds calling to each other, the sensation of the breeze cooling my skin and swirling through my hair.

I have made a massive mistake.

I’m overwhelmed by the compelling urge to find Mateo, to explain to him how I’ve realized I need to be open to change, to not cement my plans all the time. I need to tell him I’m sorry for being so quick to leave him behind when I perceived him as a threat to my goals. I need to tell him that I trust him. That I love him.

With determination in my step, I begin walking back the way I came. When I reach the space of our first date, I stare down at the ground and bite my cheek to fight against the tears in my eyes. I’ve been such an idiot.

“Lana?”

I jump. My heart knows my name in that voice. It starts beating wildly even before I look up to see Mateo standing in front of me.

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he says apologetically. My eyes take him in, feeding information to my brain to process. He’s wearing his favorite pair of Nike joggers and a Townsend Soccer hoodie, looking athletic and attractive as per usual. But there are dark circles under his eyes, and the stubble along his chin is more unkempt than usual, creeping down his neck in a disheveled way.

The information my mind latches onto, though, is the hollow, haunted look in his eyes. My body physically hurts seeing those hot chocolate eyes, usually so full of joy and warmth, looking so drained.

“I…I know you haven’t wanted to see me, Lana,” Mateo begins. “Teegan communicated your request, and I’ve tried to honor that. After the hundredth or so text message left unread, I accepted the fact that you’d blocked my number. I assumed my unanswered notes meant you didn’t want to talk. I’ve tried to imagine you confidently moving forward, working toward your dreams like you always do, even if that meant without me. Tried to will myself to let you move on.”

---