Manny looked clean to him. She barely fiddled with anything and she stared at him with a concentration he had only seen once before.

“You look well,” Peter said. She shifted in her seat. The café was not as busy as he had remembered. The last time he was here, Manny did not appreciate the hordes of coffee junkies clogging the area. She seemed more bothered by his presence this time.

“Well, I started to think after you left me. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I just started thinking.” She paused while she sipped her tea. Her bottom lip stuck to the cup for a second. “I thought that maybe the shit made you leave me.”

It was the drugs that made him kick her out, but there was something else. She was too good for him. He needed her to leave, because he would have destroyed her. She loved too much. A waiter approached and Peter waved him away. She was as beautiful as always. He wanted the privacy to admire her without a warm beverage to distract him.

Her eyes were darker than he remembered. Her cute nose and full cheeks reminded him of the earlier years. She had blonde highlights in her dark hair. Her curls fell with a purpose that was meant to intoxicate. She cleared her throat and Peter blushed.

“I just can’t believe how beautiful you are.” He said. She smiled and drained her cup. She reached over and held his hands. The softness awoke every nerve in his body. He wanted her. He did not care about the consequences or the history. The moment demanded copulation and he was willing to forsake decency to taste her mouth.

“So, was it?” she said.

“What?”

“The drugs.”

“Oh, no … I needed space. You know how it …”

“I know.” She sighed.

She leaned back and left his hands. She fiddled in her backpack and produced a worn envelope. She handed it to him. It had no sign of postage. He opened it. It was the letter he had sent her ten years ago. She was one of the popular girls at school. He was a hunchback nerd who did not know the definition of ‘clitoris’. All he had was words, so he wrote the letter. It was typed:

Dear Manuela

Books were always a comfort to me. Though I did not attempt the absurdities of childhood, I knew that climbing trees were fun and the game shop held endless hours of distraction. I had my head in a book and my heart in infinite fantasies. They shifted and became more complex as I aged, but they remained my main source of inspiration. I would spew out poetry that clung to the panties of the erotic niche. I generated buzz words from disgusting body parts.

I do not hold the answers to love or the act of it. But I do know that with my limited sight and exquisite taste, that you are my fantasies made reality. I wrote this to extend my hand in courtship. I hope the romance of this moment is savoured, because there is nothing like the first time.

If you are willing to give me an opportunity to love you, I will never stop. My dreams call for you, Manuela. My heart aches for your voice.

Yours Hopefully

Peter

He read it twice and felt his heart sink. He made her a promise. She was there to get him back. Her expectations radiated towards him. He could not meet her eyes. He folded the letter and slowly returned it to the envelope.

“I have to go.” He said.

***

Tell us: Would it be wise for Peter to get back with Manny after their drug-abusive past?/