A girl caught my eye. Dead centre of the concrete, where I had to travel. Tall and slim, but carrying an oversized knapsack, and a cloth satchel, in that hippy way. She pondered the fruit.
Getting closer. Sizing her up, after a few drinks, I thought of asking her if I could help bear some of her burden. Take one of the bags and walk her home.
Even closer. Intent on her fruit, I aimed to pass her by. Maybe smile, say hello.
Closer still. She turned her head, strange man approaching wouldn't you. I couldn't break me stare before our eyes met, just before I passed her by.
Passing her by, she turned to follow me with her eyes. Now she was staring and there was something familiar. Something I knew.
'Peter?'
I stopped.
'Peter, right?'
I turned.
'I can't believe I am right off the bus and I run into someone I know.'
How have you been, I mumble, how is your sister?
'She is fine. She got married in 2001 and lives in Kingston. Have you lived here long?'
About ten years.
'Wow, that's crazy I bumped into you. I am famished. Just here for a couple a days for a wedding. Just got off a plane from Halifax. I am waiting for a bus.'
It had already come to me. I knew this woman. It had been almost twenty years, but I knew her. She was the younger sister of my high school sweetheart. I hadn't seen either in years.
But, I had thought. I had spent hours thinking about, at different times, how it went wrong, how I could apologise, whether I should.
You see, I cheated on her sister. It was a drunken moment of weakness when I was eighteen, but that doesn't forgive it. And it gets worse. I don't think I loved her but I told her I did, a lot. Mostly for selfish, destructive reasons. I was a child, but again, that doesn't excuse it.
I have dwelled on that for a while. I have wondered where she was, looking for signs of her online and through friends. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for being a boy. A stupid, immature, self centred boy. And I regretted it. It took a while and I grew up, but I regretted it all the same.
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