The chipped ceramic of her mug tapped a nervous rhythm against the Formica tabletop. Astrid kept her gaze fixed on the swirling steam rising from within, a deliberate avoidance of my own. I exhaled, a frustrated puff of air. “Look, I didn’t *want* this to be awkward!” I blurted, hands clasped together on my thighs, fingers tracing restless circles under the table. The gesture was meant to conceal my own anxiety, but likely only amplified its visibility.
“And what, exactly, did you think it would be?” Astrid’s voice was a low growl, her grip tightening on the mug. “A joyous reunion? A hug and happy tears?”
“Well, how has life *been*?” I pressed, hoping to steer the conversation toward something less fraught. She rolled her eyes, a familiar gesture that stung even now.
“Wonderful, actually. Amazing. Happily married to a fantastic man, a beautiful three-year-old daughter. A gorgeous house, a job I adore.” Astrid’s exhale was sharp, then she took a long sip of her tea.
“Sounds… incredible,” I mumbled, and she finally looked up, surprised by my tone. “I don’t want you to hate me, Astrid.” The words tumbled out before I could censor them.
She sighed, rubbing the gold band on her finger. “Hiccup, it’s hard *not* to. After what you did.” The words were clipped, precise, and carried the weight of years. I glanced at her, tracing the lines around her eyes.
“I know. I just… I want to fix things. Maybe… friends? But at least let’s catch up.” I pleaded, hoping for a flicker of warmth. She glared.
“Not even friends,” she snapped. The rejection felt like a physical blow. I sighed, the sound raw and aching, and she flinched, momentarily taken aback by my visible pain.
“We dated, Hiccup. Friends would be worse. More uncomfortable than it already is.” She shook her head, then abruptly shifted gears.
“So… college? How’d it go?” She finally looked up, her gaze no longer avoiding mine.
“Amazing. Faced some hardships with family and friends… but I accomplished it. Got my dream job!” I laughed, a forced brightness in my voice, and took a sip of my coffee.
“That’s great. I’m happy for you.” Her voice was flat, devoid of inflection.
I nearly choked on my coffee, sputtering and wiping my mouth with a napkin. “What? You’re happy for me?” I asked, stunned by the unexpected response.
She rolled her eyes, a familiar frustration returning. “Look, I may despise your guts, but yes, I’m happy you’ve found your way.” She snapped.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, raising my eyebrows in a wry smile.
“I heard about your dad… I’m sorry,” she said quietly, those stunning blue eyes meeting mine with a flicker of something that wasn’t quite animosity.
“Um… yeah… thanks,” I stammered, shifting awkwardly in my seat. “Please don’t… I don’t like to talk about it.”
She nodded, understandingly. “I don’t speak to my parents anymore. After you left, I didn’t go to college that year. Waited a year because I was so broken over you. They practically disowned me after that. Haven’t seen them since I was nineteen.” Astrid’s voice was small, her hand trembling as she raised her mug to her lips.
“I’m sorry, Astrid,” I whispered, the words inadequate and hollow.
“Yeah, whatever,” she barked, and we both looked away, the silence stretching taut between us. We found ourselves locking eyes again, and she shook her head, a subtle dismissal.
“I’m going back to my family,” she sighed, grabbing her purse and rising from the table.
I watched her walk away, the diner’s harsh fluorescent lights reflecting off the worn leather of her bag. I took another sip of my coffee, the bitter taste clinging to my tongue, and settled into the solitude of the booth. Just as I was about to lose myself in the dark swirl of my thoughts, a familiar group approached, their laughter echoing through the diner. They hadn’t noticed me yet, and I braced myself for the inevitable reunion.