Chapter 44: The Comeback (1)
"Did you sleep well, my El?"
Kaye?
Is that Kaye's voice?
I just closed my eyes because Demi told me to sleep. Said I looked like a zombie. Said I needed rest.
But this isn't rest.
This isn't my apartment.
Where am I?
Is the loop back?
I slowly opened my eyes.
Then I saw her.
Kaye.
The real Kaye.
The one from the garden. The one from the dreams. The one who laughed like spring.
She's here.
She's real.
She's looking at me.
"I've missed you," she said. Her voice was velvet.
"I've been waiting."
She reached out. Touched my face. Her fingers were warm.
"It's really you," I whispered.
"It's really me."
She shifted. Moved. Let me sit up.
I was laying on her lap.
Her lap.
I didn't even notice.
Too busy thinking.
As always.
"You think too much," she said.
"That's what everyone tells me."
"Maybe they're right."
She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"How did you do it?" she asked.
"The ritual. With the cracker. How did you figure it out?"
I thought for a moment.
The old woman's words.
"You'll need sustenance."
Aletheia's hints.
"Scream loudly enough to be heard over the espresso machine."
The flowers. Memory's bloom. Heart's ease. Forget-me-not-but-please-do.
They were mine. All mine.
My memories. My peace. My forgetting.
And the white flower— the one that kept growing.
Nev said it was me. Still fighting. Even when I wanted to give up.
"I realized I'd been running in circles," I said slowly.
"Chasing the same thing. Repeating the same mistakes. The old woman gave me the cracker. Aletheia gave me the words. The flowers showed me what I was losing."
I almost smiled.
"And Demi ate my cracker."
Kaye blinked. "He ate it?"
"He thought it was a snack."
She stared at me. "Your best friend ate your magic cracker."
"Yes."
"And you're still here."
"Apparently."
She shook her head. "That's ridiculous."
"You're welcome."
She laughed.
Then her smile faded. She tilted her head. Her eyes narrowed.
"And Aletheia," she said. "The one who gave you the words."
"Yes."
"What does she look like?"
I described her. The sharp eyes. The navy blazer. The way she watched.
Kaye's eyebrow went up.
She's jealous.
Kaye is jealous.
Of Aletheia.
Of—
"She sounds... interesting," she said.
"Kaye."
"Hmm?"
"It's not like that."
"Like what?"
"Whatever you're thinking."
She raised her other eyebrow. "I'm not thinking anything."
"You're thinking something."
"I'm thinking that an old woman gave you a cracker. Another woman gave you words. And someone else showed you flowers." She paused.
"That's a lot of women helping you find me."
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?"
I didn't know what to say.
She stared at me. Then slowly, her eyebrow lowered.
"You're hopeless," she said.
"That's what everyone tells me."
She sighed. Shook her head. Then she laughed.
Her laugh.
Like spring.
Like I remembered.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"I've been waiting so long. Sometimes I wonder if you forgot me."
"I didn't."
"I know."
She stood. Held out her hand.
"Come. Let's walk."
I took her hand.
Warm.
Real.
Solid.
We walked.
The park stretched around us. Trees. Grass. Paths. Benches.
No people.
Just us.
"Do you want coffee?" she asked.
I blinked. "Coffee?"
"You always liked coffee. Black. No sugar."
She remembers.
She remembers how I like my coffee.
After everything.
After all this time.
"I'd like that," I said.
She smiled. "There's a shop nearby."
We walked toward the edge of the park. The trees thinned. The path became a sidewalk.
And there — on the corner — was a small coffee shop.
The sign above the door read: Lukewarm Grounds.
I stopped.
Lukewarm Grounds.
Like my life.
Like my coffee.
Like everything.
Like—
"El." Kaye squeezed my hand. "You're doing it again."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just... come."
She pulled me inside.
---
LUKEWARM GROUNDS – DREAM
The shop was small. Warm. The walls were painted in soft browns and creams. The counter was wooden. The barista was an old man with kind eyes and trembling hands.
He didn't look at us.
He just stood there. Waiting.
Kaye ordered for us. Two black coffees. No sugar.
The old man nodded. Turned to the machine. His hands trembled as he worked, but he didn't spill anything.
He's done this before.
Many times.
For many people.
In many dreams.
Or maybe this was real.
Or maybe none of it was.
I didn't know.
I couldn't know.
I was too tired to know.
Kaye led me to a table by the window.
We sat across from each other.
The coffee came. Steam rose. The cups were warm.
I wrapped my hands around mine.
Real.
Warm.
Solid.
Like her.
"Tell me something," she said.
"What?"
"Something happy. Something that isn't about loops or crackers."
I thought for a moment.
"Demi ate my cracker."
She blinked. "You already told me that."
"Yes. But it's still funny."
She stared at me. Then she laughed. Really laughed.
"Your best friend ate your magic cracker," she said.
"Yes."
"And you're still here."
"Apparently."
She shook her head, still laughing.
Then she grew quiet. She looked at her coffee. Then at me.
"I used to imagine this," she said.
"Imagine what?"
"Us. Sitting in a coffee shop. Drinking coffee. Talking about nothing."
"You imagined that?"
"All the time." She smiled.
"When the garden was dying. When the flowers were wilting. When I couldn't feel the sun anymore. I imagined this."
She imagined this.
While I was running in circles.
While I was forgetting.
While I was losing myself.
She was here.
Waiting.
Imagining.
Hoping.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"For what?"
"For taking so long."
She reached across the table. Touched my hand.
"You're here now," she said. "That's all that matters."
She's here.
I'm here.
We're here.
In this coffee shop.
In this dream.
In this moment.*m
And for now, that was enough.
"What about you?" I asked.
"What about me?"
"Did you figure anything out? While you were waiting?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"I figured out that I love you," she said.
That's not—
That's not what I meant.
But—
Maybe it was.
Maybe that's exactly what I meant.
"I love you too," I said.
She smiled.
We drank our coffee.
The old man watched us from behind the counter. His hands still trembled. But his eyes were kind.
He knows.
He's seen this before.
Many times.
For many people.
In many dreams.
Or maybe this was real.
Or maybe none of it was.
I didn't know.
I couldn't know.
I was too tired to know.
And for now, that was okay.
"Do you want to stay?" Kaye asked.
"Here?"
"In this dream. With me."
I looked at her.
Stay in the dream.
With her.
Not wake up.
Not go back.
Not face Tuesday.
Not face anything.
Just... stay.
"I can't," I said.
"I know."
"But I want to."
"I know."
She reached across the table. Took both my hands.
"Then stay a little longer," she said. "Just a little longer."
Stay a little longer.
With her.
Not thinking.
Not questioning.
Not running.
Just... being.
With her.
In this coffee shop.
In this moment.
Where nothing else mattered.
"Okay," I said.
She smiled.
And for a moment — just a moment — everything was fine.
No jealous eyebrows.
Just her.
Just me.
Just this.
Just us.
And that was enough.
For now.