Breakfast with Tia

A short short story written in first person about my last day living in Virginia Beach, VA.

I stare out the diner window at the waves of the Atlantic Ocean scraping up the coast of the beach again and again. The smell of the sea air wafts in through the open window above my head and mixes with the smells of frying butter, bacon and brewing coffee.

When Tia announces her arrival by tapping my shoulder, I turn to her and smile, forgiving her instantly, like I always do. Her short stature and unsinkable smile win my heart yet again. More than anything, I can’t help but appreciate how earnest she always looks, like this will be the time that marks the beginning the renovation of our friendship. I’ve believed it so many times, only now it’s too late. Still I smile at her, meaning it 100%, like I’m pretty sure she always does too.

Tia used to be a great friend. She was the one person in this crappy city who I knew would call me back, and then about a year ago, she just stopped. Message after message, and finally I gave up. Then she’d pop up out of the blue again, just long enough to make plans that she would either call later and cancel or just flat stand me up. I told myself time and again that no one who acted that way could really care about me, and then some snippet, some short visit, even a phone conversation, and I’d forgive her all of it again. When I was with her, when I talked to her, I just knew she was sincere.

“Hey, Sweetie,” she begins, “did you eat?”

“No, but I ordered,” I say passing her my menu, unable to resist mirroring her big grin with one of my own.

“Good,” she replies flipping the menu open and scanning down. She’s so petite, and I feel self conscious for a moment about what will soon be put in front of me. I’ve ordered eggs, pancakes, bacon and toast, way more than I should be eating, but as if she somehow knows and wants to make me feel better, Tia orders an omelet, French toast and sausage.

The cook at the large grill just behind the counter where we sit cracks more eggs and begins crashing open the yolks with his oversized spatula. Parsing together dissonantlyare the sounds of sizzling from the grill, conversation from the five other stools at the bar and the breaking of the waves on the shore outside, the same waves that broke four of my teeth in a boogie boarding accident two and half years ago. I still remember the feeling of sand at the back of my throat.

The arrival of my food calms the memory of that sensation. I look over at Tia who hasn’t gotten her breakfast yet. “I’ll steal this piece of bacon,” she says, “and that way you can go ahead and eat. I’m sure mine’s almost ready.”

“Thanks,” I reply. “So how did your show go?”

“It was awesome,” Tia says between crunches. “Those girls were so great. We had practice every night last week and this week. They were so committed.” I can just picture Tia out in the middle of the rehearsal room floor, powering five teenage ballerinas through their paces. She would be shorter than most of them, but emitting that energy that made her so tall, such a pillar and so very irresistible. “How’s your week been?” she asks.

I laugh, “Completely crazy. My brother and his fiancé drove back from my parents house in Kentucky with me on Monday, we packed up the moving truck on Tuesday, they left in the truck Wednesday morning and Jay and I made two trips to the dump on Thursday, not to mention how many hours I’ve spent at work tying up loose ends. We have that going-away party tonight, and then we have to get up at 4:00 a.m. tomorrow morning to give the cats their tranquilizer pills. We have to be at the airport at 4:45.”

“I am so sorry that I can’t come to the party tonight,” Tia croons as two plates of food are set in front of her. “It’s just that Mark and I have had these tickets for months and he’s being such a sweetie lately.”

I can’t help but frown a little at the mention of Mark. Tia’s boyfriend for three years, and all I usually hear about him is how he loses his temper and throws furniture around, how he threatens to throw her out and then begs her to take him back. It’s hard to say whether it was more his Jekyll-and-Hyde routine or Tia’s unwillingness to cut him out of her life that has done more damage to my friendship with her. She knows my feelings, and I have no doubt that they are part of the reason she stopped calling me. I know they are a large part of the reason I gave up on her returning my calls.

Tia has seen the look on my face and launches into her defense of Mark. “He really has. He’s going to counseling and he got us these tickets. He’s a changed man, I’m telling you, and he’s being so sweet and sensitive.” I think back on all the times I’ve heard this before, but I look at Tia and soften my eyes.

“Well, good, he better stay that way this time,” and then musing, “because if he doesn’t, I’ll personally come back from Oregon and kick his a*s.” We both laugh, our giggles drifting up to the ceiling along with the steam from the coffee pot and the vaporous heat from the griddle.

Over the next several minutes we sop up as much friendship as we can, dipping into conversation again and again and sucking the fat out of it.

With cleaned plates and slates, we pay our tab before walking out to the ocean where I’ve vowed to put my feet into the Atlantic one last time before flying away to opposite coast to begin a new life. Some of my very best times in this wretched city were spent right here on this piece of shoreline. It seemed the one place to gain clarity, to remember how much more the world had to offer me than what made up my life here.

I hold my shoes and socks in a bundle in my right hand. It’s the first week of May and the winter cold water still makes my toes cramp up a little. The warm waters from the South haven’t reached this beach quite yet. I kick up the spray and send it in small droplets back at the oncoming waves, their tiny splashes silently saying all that’s in my heart.

My other hand is holding Tia’s, and we’re both staring out to sea, stomping our feet in the surf, looking, I imagine, a lot like the wild ponies who live just a few miles down the beach in the wildlife refuge.

In this moment, inspired by the hold I have on Tia’s hand and the way I feel about her, I forgive this crummy town too, for being too full of people who have no desire to see beyond its borders, for being a community that doesn’t understand the value of the arts or a decent coffee shop, for being a city where it’s every woman for herself and speaking to another girl causes her to raise her eyebrows in distrust.

I pardon it all, just for this moment, just for these precious few seconds when I can hold Tia’s hand and stare out at the expansive Atlantic. I am the wave cresting, pulling everything into me, ready to crash into the next chapter of my life, and being this high and riding this close to change, for this split second, forgiveness comes easy.

Reviews

[khalid]

very interesting story...it is really nice when you meet a friend after long time. i think you like Tia so much that you can forgive whatever she does..i think you are little jealous of Mark because you feel he takes your close friend from you..

i have really enjoyed reading this story specially you have described all the details in a very nice way..