Closure

Men, the kind filled with machismo and false bravado, may say that Valentine's day is not important to them. While most of us tout the ambivalence towards the day as nothing more than sugar induced Hallmark mania, it actually pings a tinge of sadness when the day starts and there's no one to call your own.

But that's how my day began. As mundane as any other. I woke up. Rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and did my morning three S's. Routine. My breakfast was ordinary steel-cut oats. Boring. I had the day to myself. Nothing to do and no one to do anything with. So I did what any normal, sane person would do. Turn on Netflix and check Facebook.

I clicked on some Netflix show about someone named Kimmy. Figured it'd be good for a laugh. My Facebook opens to the normal abundance of notifications. But there is a new notification in my inbox. From the porcelain skinned, blue eyed beauty that got away. The girl I've been thinking about for seven years since we last saw each other. Seven years to the day to be exact.

Now, hearing from a long lost love or estranged friend isn't unheard of but this was beyond unexpected. Our last encounter was an explosive break up. Empty beer bottles flying past my head. Lit cigarettes smoked and flicked at each other. Screaming at the top of our lungs. Me trying to fend off punches and open hand flailing. A break up not easily forgotten even when what was said is lost among the chaos. But the only silver lining that night around the gray cloud that was my fault, my doing, was this one thing I said. That if given the chance to change anything, I would change most everything. I'd make it right.

So here I am looking at a Facebook message that seven years to the day makes what I said come full circle. A message that simply reads, 'Tonight's your chance to change everything.' So a day that started so mundane has suddenly turned into something so much more. A chance to fix every accusation. A chance to say correctly every incorrect thing I said. A chance to make it right.

I message her back to meet me at Antonio's, our favorite restaurant, at seven. That gives me more than a few hours to get a fresh hair cut, shower again, and pick out the perfect clothes. I don't want my wardrobe to lie. Not a suit. Nothing that i wouldn't wear everyday. But not my lazy wear with holes in them. That just screams I don't care anymore. And I do, after seven years I still care. I still want to make it right. If for nothing more than closure.

So here I stand, outside Antonio's in the early Autumn Chicago weather. Wind blowing my freshly cut hair just enough to make it slightly disheveled but to not break the single rose in my hand that it bends. I arrived early so I could have a table waiting. I look down the street as she turns the corner. Her dress blowing in the wind. Smoke from her cigarette being wisked away by the breeze. Her reddish-brown hair much shorter than years ago. But even in the darkening skies her eyes still shine bright.

She smiles as I hand her the rose. Her teeth still impervious to stains after years of smoking. I gesture toward the door but she shakes her head and steps past the restaurant taking me by the hand. I knock on the window at the host, shrugging my shoulders and mouthing 'sorry' and I am ushered past.

"Where are we off to?" I ask with a boyish grin.

"For a walk." The tone in her voice betraying the simplicity of just a walk.

"Why'd you message me? Seven years is a long time," I ask as curiosity gets the best of me.

"I'm not sure exactly. Just thought I'd see if you were still alive," she says. Not quite the answer I expected.

"Look, all those years ago. I didn't want to...I mean, I didn't ever mean to make you feel like any less of a person than you are," I stop early not sure where I was going with that.

"That was seven years ago," she replies. "Even the few conversations between, forget them. Just make tonight about tonight. Not the past."

Our walk takes us to Michigan ave, The Magnificent Mile, for a little window shopping and perhaps more. The streets are crowded with cars and pedestrians. The lights bounce off the streets and buildings bringing an aura of magic to Chicago. We talk of our present lives. My time in office work as a copy editor and hers as a therapist. We laugh about our failed relationships after ours and she tells me that she's engaged.

I stop dead in my tracks. Why would she tell me this? Why would she contact me for a night telling me it's my chance? Thoughts and questions flood my head as I stare into her eyes unsure of what to say.

"But tonight is my chance," I reply with childlike desperation.

"Yes. To let me know if I am making the wrong choice," she says as tears well in her eye.

"I am not that man anymore. I will not be the one who ruins relationships," I say slowly shaking my head as I turn away.

I start to walk away and it takes only a few steps to force a reply out of her.

"I never stopped loving you," she cries. "We could still have it all. Everything we ever wanted back then. We could have it now."

"No," I say. "If you're questioning your decision to marry him now, you'll always question me. Thank you."

"For what?"

"Letting me finally move on," I finish and disappear into the crowd of people.