The light breeze from the open window refreshed the tiny café. It was usually empty during this time of the day. All the customers would be down by the beach enjoying the golden shine the sun was producing, listening to the ocean waves soothing their souls like a lullaby told by a loving mother. The heat from the setting sun always had a way of healing the skin, giving a burnt result. These are just some of the many reasons people came to Orcan, but it is the coffee from La Mémoire that puts the body to bed.

Mica relaxed back into her chair. She couldn’t get comfortable. It was like someone had put a prickled snake down her skin, not inside her but between the skin and the muscle. She picked up her tan mug of coffee and took a sip. There wasn’t any left.

Mica looked out towards the ocean and frowned. The sight didn’t help her. She wasn’t a tourist anymore. She hadn’t been one for a long time.

She was born in Orcan, and her very first sight of the ocean that she could remember was when she was three years old. It looked like a monster blocked by some sand barrier, waiting for its chance to swallow her whole. It didn’t take long for Mica to love the ocean, but it took her longer to leave it.

The bell to the café dinged. Mica looked up towards the entrance as a young man walked in. He had long hair that was barely touching his shoulders. His bangs hooked back to make a man bun. It suited him well. He wore a ripped t-shirt that didn’t look worn out but, designer. He had small square glasses that sat well on his nose. He was perfect.

He walked through the orange-tanned sun rays that lit up the room and through the vast ocean of dust that floated among the space. He pulled up a chair across from Mica.

“Hey,” he said, trying to make eye contact but ended up staring out the window. Mica stared at him. Her fingers, squeezing the mug. The tension bricked up in the room, but the gentle breeze made it breathable. They sat there in silence. “How is it in — ”

“It’s okay, busier than here,” said Mica, still looking outside. Looking at him was hard. So many memories, most of them good, few bad, but it’s the bad ones that she remembers.

“I miss you,” the young man said, reaching across the table. Mica pulled back, bringing her mug closer to her. The young man stopped and rested his hands on the table. “Your father comes down to visit sometimes. We don’t talk. He sits with me. Sometimes he’s out there with me till late in the night. I think he’s worried about you.”

“I didn’t call you here to talk about who you’re spending your me-time with,” Mica said.

The young man’s smile faded. He had a feeling this is why she came back. Mica had moved out of Orcan to Isogashī. A bigger city. More opportunities and away from home.

It was like she was running from something. It could be from the pressure her mother would put on her. The world needs more accountants, she would nag. We have enough artists in the world. Mica would struggle to keep back the tears. Her father would say nothing and just watched. Mica couldn’t rely on him. There were moments that her father would encourage her. Her father was there when she needed him. Only when she needed him.

He was a quiet man, kept to himself. He ran the La Mémoire. On the other hand, Mica's mother ran a multi-million dollar hotel chain that ran along the coast. All of the hotels in Orcan belong to her. Put away the sketchbook and help me balance my books, one day, you’ll be running this company, or would you instead work with your father? Mica could never tell if her mother loved her. In the end, she didn’t care.

“How’s the painting going,” the young man said. Mica looked over at him.

“It’s good. I was working at an art museum for a while. I taught some kids how to paint.”

“Did you sell any of your paintings?”

“Yeah, I did,” she said, looking down at her mug.

“That’s good.” He paused. “Mica, why did you come back?”

“I came back,” she said and then took a deep breath. “I came back to tell you goodbye.”

“You already did when you left.”

“I meant for real.”

Mica’s fingers started to tremble. It wasn’t noticeable, but to her, it felt like there was an earthquake in her bones. She fidgeted in her seat. The prickled snake was back.

“Even when I’m away, I think of you. It’s obsessive, and it’s also the reason I’ve become successful. When I paint, I paint you. It’s always you. You’ve trapped me in this cage, and I just want to get out,” Mica said. “I want my thoughts back. I want to explore. To think freely without thinking about you. It’s not fair how you invade my mind, violating it with your presence. I want you gone.”

The young man sat there hurt, confused, but betrayed. This was more than a simple breakup or goodbye. Mica wanted to erase him from her life forever. It was an execution and a funeral.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sorry, won’t cut it, just release me from your spell.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t. There is no spell. I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“Stop it. You don’t love. You don’t even care. You’re not even-” Mica said, holding herself back.

The young man could feel his heartbreaking. Like ice shattering off into the ocean. Into its bottomless depth. Mica denied the time they spent together. She was trying to close the door to their life together. The young man couldn’t.

“Mica. Leave,” he said.

The sun was now dipping into the ocean. Eating its light. “Just leave because I can’t ever stop thinking about you. You gave me life when I didn’t even know I had it. You gave form when I was formless. You’re such a part of me that if I forget you, I would…” He didn’t have to finish to get his point across because he couldn’t. He was interrupted by his tears.

“That’s not fair. That’s not fair,” Mica said. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“You did. You wanted a friend, and you got more than a friend.”

“If I knew-”

“Knew what? That it’s hard to live alone after you felt the love of another. That the warmth of being together was so addicting. You’re special, Mica, and you don’t even know it. I can’t help you forget about me. I can only love you.”

“Love someone else. That’s not a request. It’s an order.”

The young man started to feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was an emotion buried deep inside him. The gentle breeze disappeared, and Mica felt a chill. It was cold. Ice.

The waves picked up, and the wind turned violent. This wasn’t a storm out of nowhere. There was word about a hurricane off the coast. It wasn’t going to hit the town, but they would be getting a storm.

“It doesn’t work that way,” said the young man.

“Why not?”

“Because you just can’t stop loving someone.” Mica gripped the mug harder.

“People do it all the time,” she said.

“People are liars.”

“Then be a liar!”

“I can’t lie to myself.”

“Then lie to me.”

“I…,” said the young man trying to string together his thoughts. They struggled to come out like a pyramid being sucked out of a tube.

Mica stared at the young man. She’d never seen him make a face like that. It was twisted and distorted. His perfect face showed pain. It was like he was having a battle with himself to give Mica what she wanted, but he was losing this battle.

“Oh, come on,” she said; she felt something welling up. “It’s easy. Just tell me you found someone else.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve only thought of you.”

Mica shot straight up. She hesitated to throw the mug.

“Please just let me go,” she said.

“If I do, I’ll die.”

Mica froze and then dropped back into her seat. Her hand, loosely grabbing the mug. She just wanted to be free. Free from the stress of knowing she had someone back home waiting for her. She didn’t want to let him down. If he were gone, she’d go where she’d want to go. Do what she wanted to do. Love whom she wanted to love. She didn’t want to kill him. She just wanted to be normal like everyone else.

The mug slipped from her hand and fell to the floor just as lightning struck off in the distance. The young man glanced out the window and then smiled.

“1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9,” he said. Then a thunderous boom went off. “9 miles out.”

Mica looked up. The tears flowed gently down her face. She didn’t want to fight with him anymore. She didn’t want to fight him in the first place. It was just easier to run, scream, and cry than face the truth.

She missed him.

The young man stood up and took a glance out the window. The stars were just showing themselves. The storm was almost gone; it was fading on the horizon. He walked over and knelt down. He wiped her tears and kissed her forehead.

“You’re a special girl Mica. If you need some time, take it. I have all the time in the world.”

The young man stood up and walked out of the cafe, leaving Mica alone in the dark. She looked out the window. The breeze was now gentle, and the young man melted away into the ocean waves. She could run or hide, but she will always find herself painting the ocean in the end. She had, after all, captured the ocean’s heart.

Definitions

• La Mémoire. This is of French origin meaning ‘the memory’.

• 忙しい (Isogashī). This is of Japanese origin meaning ‘busy’.