We sat at a café table and ordered. Then I realized our waitress was somewhat familiar yet hostile. She flung the menu and insulted me.
I asked, “Do we know each other?”
She said, “Of course we do.”
“You shamed me in high school. Remember drama club auditions? I forgot my lines, and you laughed.
Told everyone I was a joke. You made sure no one forgot.”
I felt like someone poured cold water on my back. My tablemate raised her eyebrows in confusion.
I looked to the waitress to remember her face. Then it clicked. Sandra.
She’d always been shy and quiet. In eleventh grade, she botched an audition. I laughed without meaning to be nasty.
Others joined. One of those foolish teenage moments that was funny but now awful to remember. “I’m sorry,” I instantly said.
“I didn’t know—”
“You never do,” she interrupted. “People like you move on. But some of us carry it.”
She left before I could respond.
My companion murmured, “What was that about?”
I described everything as best I could, feeling humiliation and remorse come over me. I hadn’t considered high school in years. Now I was different.
Apparently not for everyone. I asked to talk to her after eating. She skipped it.
The check arrived from another waiter. Leave a note with my number, writing, “If you ever want to talk, I’m genuinely sorry.”
I was surprised she reached out. I half-hoped she wouldn’t.
Facing past mistakes is awkward. I got a text the next day. “See you tomorrow.
4 PM. Same café. Are you serious?”
Arrived early, palms sweating.
She appeared in a grey hoodie with hair back. No makeup. She looked drained.
Not mad. Just guarded. She sat and remarked, “I don’t know why I came.”
Glad you did.”
The silence was long.
Avoiding fluff was my goal. “I want to apologize again,” I said. “Not because I was called out.
Because I didn’t know your depth. I wish I could undo.”
She glanced at me, then away. You know what hurt most?
That I admired you. You were confident, humorous. If I did well, you could notice me.
You laughed instead.”
That broke me. I didn’t know. “I was insecure too,” I said.
I laughed to hide my nervousness. Never realized how much I wounded you. Yet I trust you.
I’m sorry.”
She nodded slowly. I won’t apologize. I simply wanted to confirm whether you remembered.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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